Table of Contents

"Hurricane Hurry"

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

Chapter Four.

Chapter Five.

Chapter Six.

Chapter Seven.

Chapter Eight.

Chapter Nine.

Chapter Ten.

Chapter Eleven.

Chapter Twelve.

Chapter Thirteen.

Chapter Fourteen.

Chapter Fifteen.

Chapter Sixteen.

Chapter Seventeen.

Chapter Eighteen.

Chapter Nineteen.

Chapter Twenty.

Chapter Twenty One.

Chapter Twenty Two.

Chapter Twenty Three.

Chapter Twenty Four.

Chapter Twenty Five.

Chapter Twenty Six.

Chapter Twenty Seven.

"In New Granada"

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

Chapter Four.

Chapter Five.

Chapter Six.

Chapter Seven.

Chapter Eight.

Chapter Nine.

Chapter Ten.

Chapter Eleven.

Chapter Twelve.

Chapter Thirteen.

Chapter Fourteen.

Chapter Fifteen.

Chapter Sixteen.

"In the Eastern Seas"

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

Chapter Four.

Chapter Five.

Chapter Six.

Chapter Seven.

Chapter Eight.

Chapter Nine.

Chapter Ten.

Chapter Eleven.

Chapter Twelve.

Chapter Thirteen.

Chapter Fourteen.

Chapter Fifteen.

Chapter Sixteen.

Chapter Seventeen.

Chapter Eighteen.

Chapter Nineteen.

Chapter Twenty.

Chapter Twenty One.

Chapter Twenty Two.

Chapter Twenty Three.

Chapter Twenty Four.

Chapter Twenty Five.

Chapter Twenty Six.

Chapter Twenty Seven.

Chapter Twenty Eight.

Chapter Twenty Nine.

Chapter Thirty.

Chapter Thirty One.

Chapter Thirty Two.

Chapter Thirty Three.

Chapter Thirty Four.

Chapter Thirty Five.

Chapter Thirty Six.

Chapter Thirty Seven.

IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS

CHAPTER I.

CHAPTER II.

CHAPTER III.

CHAPTER IV.

CHAPTER V.

CHAPTER VI.

CHAPTER VII.

CHAPTER VIII.

CHAPTER IX.

CHAPTER X.

CHAPTER XI.

CHAPTER XII.

CHAPTER XIII.

"In the Wilds of Africa"

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

Chapter Four.

Chapter Five.

Chapter Six.

Chapter Seven.

Chapter Eight.

Chapter Nine.

Chapter Ten.

Chapter Eleven.

Chapter Twelve.

Chapter Thirteen.

Chapter Fourteen.

Chapter Fifteen.

Chapter Sixteen.

Chapter Seventeen.

Chapter Eighteen.

Chapter Nineteen.

Chapter Twenty.

Chapter Twenty One.

Chapter Twenty Two.

Chapter Twenty Three.

Chapter Twenty Four.

Chapter Twenty Five.

Chapter Twenty Six.

Chapter Twenty Seven.

"In the Wilds of Florida"

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

Chapter Four.

Chapter Five.

Chapter Six.

Chapter Seven.

Chapter Eight.

Chapter Nine.

Chapter Ten.

Chapter Eleven.

Chapter Twelve.

Chapter Thirteen.

Chapter Fourteen.

Chapter Fifteen.

Chapter Sixteen.

"James Braithwaite, the Supercargo"

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

Chapter Four.

Chapter Five.

Chapter Six.

Chapter Seven.

Chapter Eight.

Chapter Nine.

Chapter Ten.

Chapter Eleven.

Chapter Twelve.

Chapter Thirteen.

Chapter Fourteen.

Chapter Fifteen.

Chapter Sixteen.

Chapter Seventeen.

"Janet McLaren"

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

Chapter Four.

Chapter Five.

Chapter Six.

Chapter Seven.

Chapter Eight.

Chapter Nine.

Chapter Ten.

W.H.G. Kingston

"Hurricane Hurry"

Chapter One.

My birth, parentage, and education.—Make the acquaintance of Tom Rockets.—Sent to sea on board the Folkstone cutter, Anno 1764.—Numerous voyages.—My friends and I appear on the quarter-deck of the Torbay, 74.—Join the Falcon.—My only duel.—Adventures in the West Indies.—The Carib war.—Boat capsized.—Fate of her crew.—Appointed to the Wolf.

On the north-east side of the street, about midway between the fish and flesh markets in the seaport town of Falmouth, and at about the silent and solemn hour of thirty-six minutes past one by my father’s watch, on the morning of the 28th day of December, of the year of grace 1752, His Gracious Majesty George the Second being King of Great Britain and Ireland, (it is necessary in important matters to be particular). I was introduced with the usual forms and ceremonies into the ancient family of the Hurrys, as the undoubted child of my father Richard and my mother Joan, the ninth, and as it subsequently proved, the last of their promising offspring. On the 29th day of the January following, the Reverend Edward Walmsley, rector of the parish, baptised me by the names of Hurricane, with the addition of Tempest, which were selected by my parents, after numberless consultations, in compliment to my maternal grand-uncle, Sir Hurricane Tempest, Alderman of Bristol, though it did not appear from his remark when informed of the occurrence that it was likely to benefit in the remotest manner from the delicate attention which had been paid him.

My early days were not remarkable, I got through the complaints incident to childhood in a manner satisfactory to my mother and the doctor, while my elder brothers and sisters took very good care that I should not be spoilt by over-indulgence. My brothers, as they advanced towards manhood, were sent into various professions, and as none of them had chosen the sea, it was decided, without my opinion being asked, that I should be made an offering to Neptune.

That I might be prepared for my future calling, I was sent to reside with my brother-in-law Jack Hayfield, in the neighbourhood of Bideford, North Devon, to allow me the vast benefit of attending the school of worthy Jeremiah Sinclair, kept over the marketplace in that far-famed maritime town. I still love the recollection of the old place, with its steep streets, its broad quays, and its bridge of many arches; to my mind a more picturesque bridge does not exist in all the world, nor, when the tide is in, a prettier river. On the bosom of that river I gained my first practical experience of affairs nautical, and many a trip I made down to Appledore with my schoolfellow Ned Treggellis, in a boat which, had not a special providence watched over us, would speedily have consigned us to the muddy bottom of the stream. An oar served us as a rudder, another as a mast, with a piece of sacking as a sail spread on a condemned boat-hook, while one of us was constantly employed in baling out the water which came in through leaks unnumbered—a state of affairs we had learned to consider normal to our craft.

From Sinclair’s school, in order to receive the finishing-touches to my education, I was removed to old Allen’s well-known Mathematical Academy in Cold Harbour.

It is just possible that I might have reaped some amount of benefit from the mental provender served out in those nurseries of genius, but unfortunately for me Jack’s appreciation of the advantages of knowledge was such that he considered the time squandered devoted to its acquisition. Frequently, therefore, when I was supposed by my good sister Mary, his wife, to be on my way to school, I had been waylaid by him, and was employed with another boy in setting springles, marking woodcocks, or in some other equally intellectual pastime. Whatever I may now think about the matter, I was then convinced that Brother Jack was one of the kindest and best fellows in the world; and when I fell asleep in my chair during the evening, my somnolency was attributed to the assiduity with which I had applied to my studies during the day. I have since then had not a little reason to regret honest Jack’s ignorance and my own folly in listening to his persuasions.

My frequent companion on the occasions I have spoken of was Tommy Rockets, the son of a poor widow who lived near Jack’s house. He was somewhat younger than myself and small for his age, but a sharp, intelligent little fellow, though amusingly ignorant of affairs in general. His chief employment was acting the part of a scarecrow by frightening birds from the cornfields, and running on errands into Bideford for any of the neighbours, by which means he enabled his mother to eke out her scanty pittance. I used to share with him my school pasty, and now and then I saved a piece of bread and cheese, or I would bring him a cake or a roll from Bideford. He never failed to carry a portion to his mother, sharp-set as he always was himself. The poor fellow soon conceived a strong affection for me; and when I was going off to sea he cried bitterly at the thoughts of parting from me. I also had a regard for him, and, forgetting how small and young he was, I took it into my head that I would carry him with me. We were sitting on a grassy bank under a tree, with a series of undulating hills and the blue ocean beyond, when I broached the subject.

“Would’st like to come to sea with me, Tom?” said I broadly.

“What, to them furrin parts across the water?” he asked, pointing seaward with his chin. “No; I’d bee afeared, Master Hurricane, I would. What makes you go now?”

“To fight the Frenchmen, of course,” I replied. “It’s peace just now, they say, though I thought we were always at war with the French; but it won’t last long, that’s one comfort.”

“Well, now, I’d rather stay at home with mother than go and fight the furriners—that I would,” said Tommy, with much simplicity.

“Oh, you’ve no spirit, boy!” I replied, with a look of contempt. “Wouldn’t you like, now, to be sailing round the world with Commodore Byron, who’ll fill his ships with rubies, and pearls, and gold, and precious stones, and all sorts of things. Why, Tommy, you would come back with more riches in your waistcoat-pocket than you ever thought to possess in your life.”

Tommy’s eyes sparkled as I spoke. “What, enough to make my mother a lady!” he exclaimed. “Well, then, Master Hurricane, if so be you can take me to them parts, when I’m big enough I’ll go with ye.”

“Well, we’ll see about it,” said I, with a patronising air; “but it is not all gold-picking, remember. There’s plenty of fighting and prize-taking besides. You’ve heard speak of Admiral Hawke?”

“No,” said Tommy, “I ne’er did.”

“I’d have given my right hand to have been with him when he beat the French in Quiberon Bay. That was a glorious day for old England, let me tell you.” I was able to expatiate on the subject, as the last time I was at home my father read me a full account of the battle which took place in 1759, the year preceding the death of his Majesty George the Second, and about five years before the time of which I am now speaking. It was the most memorable action of my early days. The French fleet was commanded by Monsieur de Conflans, whom a short time before a violent gale had compelled to take shelter in Brest harbour, while the English had anchored in Torbay. The two fleets were about equal. After cruising for some time the enemy again took shelter in Quiberon Bay, on the coast of Bretagne, in France, where they were pursued by the English. A strong gale had sprung up and a heavy sea was running, but, undaunted, the brave Hawke stood on. The Frenchmen hoped to lead his fleet to destruction among the rocks and shoals of that dangerous coast. Unwilling to fight, yet too late to escape, the French admiral, when he saw the English approach, was compelled to make sail. Hawke pursued them and ordered his pilots to lay him alongside the Soleil Royal, which bore the flag of the French admiral. The Thesée, a seventy-four-gun ship, ran between them, and a heavy sea entering her ports, she foundered. The Superbe, another Frenchman, shared the same fate. Several other French ships struck their colours; many were driven on shore, among which was the flag-ship, which was set on fire and destroyed. A great number of the French were killed, but the English lost only one lieutenant and thirty-nine men killed, and about two hundred wounded. But I must not stop to describe the gallant actions which occurred during my boyhood. Lord Anson, one of the most experienced of navigators, died two years only before I went to sea. Captain Byron sailed that same memorable year, when my country first had the benefit of my services, on his voyage of discovery into the pacific, and returned in 1766. Captains Wallis and Carteret sailed on exploring voyages at the same time. I happened to have heard of Mr Cook, but it was not till many years after this that he became known to fame as one of the most talented and scientific of English navigators; indeed, he did not return from his great voyage till eleven years after this. He lost his life in his last voyage in 1779.

A number of gallant actions were fought at the end of the war, sufficient to fire the ardour of any youth of spirit to whom they were recounted. Captain Hood’s capture of the Warwick, a sixty-gun ship, which had been taken from the English, was one of the most celebrated. At this time, however, she carried but thirty-six guns, with 300 men, including a company of soldiers. Captain Hood attacked her in the Minerva frigate of thirty-two guns and 220 men, and after an hour’s fight, with a heavy sea running, both ships having lost their masts, he captured her and took her to Spithead. A still more remarkable action was that of the Bellona and Brilliant, Captains Faulkner and Loggie, and a French ship of the line and two heavy frigates, which resulted in the capture of the first and the flight of the latter. There were also numerous actions fought between packets and privateers, and other small craft, with the enemy, which seldom failed to add to the honour and glory of our country. Though ignorant of other lore, I greedily devoured all the accounts I could find of these events, and having once made up my mind that the sea was to be my profession, I resolved, when opportunities should occur, to imitate them to the best of my power.

But to return to my friend Tommy. Just before I sailed I went to pay his mother a visit. I found the widow sitting, as was her wont, knitting at her window, waiting for her son’s return. I went not empty-handed, for besides my pasty, which I had saved, I had bought a loaf and a lump of cheese and a bundle of lollipops at Bideford. First presenting her with these treasures and emptying my pockets of the very small amount of cash they contained, I opened the business I had at heart. Poor Mrs Rockets burst into tears when I asked her to let her Tommy go to sea with me.

“Oh, Master Hurricane!” said she, “I feel all your kindness to a poor creature like me and my boy, and I would not deny you anything, but, oh, sir, he is my only child, my only comfort in life, and I cannot part with him!”

All the arguments I could use and the brilliant hopes I held out were of no avail for a long time, till at last, with a sad voice, she consented, when he grew bigger, should he then show a strong wish to go to sea, to allow him to accompany me.

I met Tommy on my way home and told him that he must make haste and grow big that he might go to sea and fill his pockets with pearls and diamonds for his widowed mother. In many a dream which I had thus conjured up, both by day and night, did the poor lad indulge as he was scaring off the crows in the fields or lying on his humble pallet in his thatched-roof hut near Bideford.

It was at Whitsuntide of the year 1764, I then numbering eleven summers, that I was placed on the books of the Folkstone cutter, commanded by a particular friend of my father’s, Lieutenant Clover; the amount of learning I possessed on quitting school just enabling me to read a chapter in the Bible to my old blind grandmother (on my mother’s side), who lived with us, and to tell my father how many times a coachwheel of any diameter would turn round in going to Penryn. Having received my father’s and mother’s blessing and a sea-chest, which contained a somewhat scanty supply of clothes, a concise epitome of navigation, an English dictionary, and my grandmother’s Bible—the only gift of value the kind old lady had it in her power to bestow—I was launched forth into the wide world to take my chance with the bustling, hard-hearted crowd which fills it. I was speedily removed from the cutter into his Majesty’s packet the Duncannon, Captain Charles Edwards, in which vessel I crossed the Atlantic for the first time; and after visiting Madeira and several of the West India Islands I returned to Falmouth on the eve of Christmas, 1767. I next joined the Duke of York, Captain Dickenson, in which vessel I made no less than sixteen voyages to Lisbon. As, however, I had grown very weary of the packet service, I was not sorry to be paid off and to return once more home, if not with a fuller purse, at all events, a better sailor than when I left it. I was not long allowed to enjoy the luxury of idleness before my father got me appointed to the Torbay, seventy-four, commanded by Captain Walls, who was considered one of the smartest officers in the service, and I was taught to expect a very different sort of life to that which I had been accustomed to in the slow-going packet service. There were several youngsters from the neighbourhood of Falmouth, who had never before been to sea, who were appointed to the same ship. One of them, my old messmate poor Dick Martingall, used to speak of the unsophisticated joy with which his old mother, in her happy simplicity, announced to him the fact of his appointment. She came to his bedside long before the usual hour of rising and awoke him.

“Richard, my dear son, Richard!” she said; “get up, thou art made for ever!”

“What am I made, mother?” he asked with astonishment, rubbing his eyes, which were still full of sleep.

“Oh, my boy, my dear boy!” replied the good lady, her countenance beaming with satisfaction, “thou art made a midshipman!”

Alas! little did his poor old mother dream of the sea of troubles into which her darling boy was about to be launched, what hardships and difficulties he was doomed to encounter, “the snubs that patient raids from their superiors take,” or she would not have congratulated herself on the event, or supposed that by his being made a midshipman he was made for ever. Yet in his case it was so far true, poor fellow, that he was never made anything else, as he was carried out of the world by fever before he had gained a higher step in rank.

The tailors in Falmouth and its neighbourhood who were employed in fitting us out were delightfully innocent of all notion of what a midshipman’s uniform should really be, and each one seemed to fancy that he was at liberty to give full scope to the exuberance of his taste. Their models might have been taken from the days of Benbow, or rather, perhaps, from the costumes of those groups who go about disguised at Christmas-time enacting plays in the halls of the gentry and nobility, and are called by us west-country folks “geese-dancers.” As we met on board the cutter which was to carry us to Plymouth we were not, I will allow, altogether satisfied with our personal appearance, and still less so when we stepped on the quarter-deck of the seventy-four, commanded by one of the proudest, most punctilious men in the service, surrounded by a body of well-dressed, dashing-looking officers.

Tom Peard first advanced, as chief and oldest of our gang, with a bob-wig on his head surmounted by a high hat bound by narrow gold lace, white lapels to his coat, a white waistcoat, and light-blue inexpressibles with midshipman’s buttons. By his side hung a large brass-mounted hanger, while his legs were encased in a huge pair of waterproof boots. I followed next, habited in a coat all sides radius, as old Allen would have said, the skirt actually sweeping the deck, and so wide that it would button down to the very bottom. My white cuffs reached half way up the arm to the elbow; my waistcoat, which was of the same snowy hue, reached to my knees, but was fortunately concealed from sight by the ample folds of my coat, as were also my smallclothes. I had on white thread stockings, high shoes and buckles, and a plain cocked hat—a prodigiously long silver-handled sword completing my costume.

Dick Martingall’s and Tom Paynter’s dresses wore not much less out of order, giving them more the appearance of gentlemen of the highway than of naval officers of respectability. One had a large brass-mounted sword once belonging to his great-grandfather, a trooper in the army of the Prince of Orange; the other, a green-handled hanger, which had done service with Sir Cloudesley Shovel.

Often have I seen a set of geese-dancers compelled to make a hurried flight before the hot poker of some irate housekeeper disturbed in her culinary operations, and much in the same way did we four aspirants for naval honours beat a precipitate retreat from the deck of the Torbay as, with a stamp of his foot, our future captain ordered us to be gone and instantly to get cut down and reduced into ordinary proportions by the Plymouth tailors.

As may be supposed, the operation was almost beyond the skill of even the most experienced master of the shears, and we were all of us compelled, much to our dismay, to furnish ourselves for the most part with new suits. On our return on board, however, we were complimented on our appearance; and as our tailor agreed to receive payment from our first instalment of prize-money, we were perfectly content with the arrangement.

After spending a few months in channel cruising—the Torbay being ordered to lay as guard-ship at Plymouth—such a life not suiting my fancy, I quitted her and joined his Majesty’s sloop of war Falcon, captain Cuthbert Baines, fitting out for the West India station.

As in those days I kept no regular journal, I have only a few scattered notes written in an old log-book to guide me in my account of the events of that period of my career. A few are still vivid in my memory as when they first occurred, but many have escaped me altogether, or appear like the fleeting phantoms of a dream of which it is impossible to describe the details. I must therefore be allowed to pass rapidly over that early portion of my naval life and go on to the time when I had passed my examination for a lieutenant’s commission and trod the quarter-deck as a master’s mate.

On the Falcon’s leaving Portsmouth we touched at Falmouth or our way down channel, when I had the opportunity of taking leave of my family—with some of them, alas! it was an eternal farewell. This is one of the seaman’s severest trials; he knows from sad experience that of the many smiling faces he sees collected round the domestic hearth some will too surely be missing on his return, wanderers, like himself, far, far away, or gone to their final resting-place.

We made a stay of a few days at Madeira, and without any occurrence worthy of note reached English Harbour, Antigua, October 21st, 1771, where we found lying several ships of war under the flag of Rear-Admiral Mann.

I have not hitherto mentioned the names of my messmates. Among others, there were William Wilkins, John Motto, Israel Pellew (see note), and Alexander Dick. We were a jovial set and generally pulled well together; but on one occasion the apple of discord was thrown in among us, and Alexander Dick, the surgeon’s mate, and I fell to loggerheads in consequence of some reflections I thoughtlessly cast on the land of his nativity—to the effect, as far as my recollection serves me, that nothing better was to be found there as food for the people than sheeps’ heads and boiled bagpipes; to which he retorted by asserting that we west-country folks were little better than heathens and had no more manners than blackamoors. As neither of us would retract what we had said, it was decided that our dispute could alone be settled by mortal combat. Pistols, we were aware, were the most gentlemanly weapons to be employed on such occasions; but we found that it would be impossible to obtain them in a hurry without to a certainty betraying our intentions. It was therefore settled by our seconds and ourselves that we should decide the knotty question with our hangers as soon as we could manage to get on shore after reaching port. All four of us therefore, having got leave the morning after our arrival, left the ship soon after daybreak in a shore-boat and pulled off to a retired part of the harbour. Here we landed, and telling our black boatmen to wait our return, we walked away arm-in-arm to a spot where we thought no one would observe us. Having thrown off our coats and tucked up our shirt-sleeves, the word was given, and, drawing our hangers, we advanced towards each other with furious passes, as if nothing but the death of one of us could satisfy the rancour of our enmity, and yet at that very moment I believe neither of us recollected the origin of our quarrel. Dick first gave me a cut on the shoulder, which so excited my fury that I was not long in returning the compliment by bestowing a slash across his arm, which made him wince not a little, but before I could follow it up he had recovered his guard. In a moment I was at him again, and as we were neither of us great masters of the noble art of self-defence, we kept hewing and slashing away at each other in a most unscientific manner for several minutes, till we were both of us covered with gashes from head to foot, and the blood was flowing copiously down into our very shoes. At last, from very weariness and loss of blood, we dropped the points of our swords as if by mutual consent. Our seconds now stepped forward.

“Hurry, my good fellow,” said my second, “one thing I see clearly. This matter cannot be settled satisfactorily with cold steel—it’s too much like the custom of piccarooners. We must wait till we can get hold of pistols, and arrange the affair in a gentlemanly way. That’s my opinion, and I daresay you and Mr Dick will agree with me.” In honest truth, both my antagonist and I were in such a condition that we were perfectly ready to agree to any arrangement which would prevent the necessity of continuing the painful operation we had both been inflicting on each other. All four of us therefore sat down on the sands, and Dick, pulling out some lint and bandages from his pockets, our seconds, under his directions, bound up our wounds. When this at length was done we found it, however, impossible to get on our coats again. We were therefore obliged to carry them over our shoulders as we walked to the boats. When the Negro boatmen saw our pale faces and halting gait, as with difficulty we stepped into the boat, they grinned from ear to ear, full well guessing what had occurred, and doubtlessly thinking, as will, I suspect, my readers, that we were very great fools for our pains. Ay, truly we were far worse than fools, for in obedience to the customs of sinful men we had been disobeying the laws of God, and committing a very great crime as well as a very great folly, but we did not think so then, nor did I till very many years afterwards.

Our intentions had not been kept so secret but that they had become known on board, and, our appearance on our return fully corroborating the truth of the reports which had been going about, we were put under arrest by Captain Baines, who then sent for us, to know the cause of our quarrel. We explained it as well as we could; but, as may be supposed, we neither of us had a very good case to make out. “Well, gentlemen,” said our commander, “this is a point I do not wish to decide myself, but I shall leave it to the arbitration of the gun-room officers, and to their decision you must bow.” The next day, therefore, the gun-room officers held a court, and, feeling very stiff and very sore, and looking, I doubt not, very foolish—though we did our best to appear like heroes—we stood before them. Having both of us pleaded our cause, it was decided that we had no business to use the language we had employed, and that we were both in the wrong. We were in consequence ordered to shake hands, and be friends, or else to look out for squalls. Had we possessed more sense, this we might have done before we had cut each other half to pieces, not to speak of spoiling a shirt and a pair of breeches apiece. Thus ended the first and only duel in which I was ever engaged, and Dick and I from that time forward became very good friends.

About this time, some serious disputes having arisen with the Caribs of Saint Vincent, who had become very troublesome to the settlers, the British Government formed the design of removing them altogether from the island and of placing them on some part of the mainland, where they might enjoy their own manner of life without interfering with civilised people. To effect this object an expedition was sent to the island under the command of Major-General Dalrymple, consisting of two regiments from America and various bodies of troops collected from the other islands and from on board all his Majesty’s ships of war on the station. At this distance of time of course I cannot pretend to be able to give any minute description of the details of the affair. I know that there were some gentlemen who acted as commissioners who went on shore to try and arrange matters with the Caribs; but the savages, after agreeing to terms, not showing any intention to abide by them, the troops were ordered to land. It was very easy to give the order, but not so easy to execute it, for at the time there happened to be an unusually heavy surf breaking on the shore. It would have been wiser in my humble opinion to have waited till the surf had gone down, or to have selected some other spot for disembarkation to that fixed on; but, strange to say, the authorities did not happen to ask my opinion, simply, I suppose, because I was a midshipman, and the landing commenced. The boats, pulled by the seamen and crowded with soldiers, made for the shore. Some reached it in safety by taking the proper moment to dash through the surf, but others were not so fortunate. One boat from our ship had put off; the men in high spirits at the thought of a brush with the Niggers, as they called the unfortunate Caribs. I was watching them from the deck as they approached the shore, when a heavy roller went tumbling in after them. The men saw it coming and pulled for their lives, but it was too quick for them, and catching the boat turned her over as if she had been a mere cockleshell. In an instant some thirty poor fellows were struggling in the surf. Many sunk at once, others made way for the shore, but they had a remorseless enemy on the watch for them, and several, with a shriek of agony which reached almost to the ears of those on board the Falcon, were drawn under by those monsters of the deep, the voracious sharks. Others, when nearly touching the sand, were washed out again by the reflux of another roller following up the first. It was doubly sad, because before it was possible to send any help to them their fate was sealed. Several other boats met with a like accident, and before the troops were all landed a large number both of seamen and soldiers were lost. The survivors formed on the beach and then advanced rapidly into the country, where the Caribs were drawn up in strong force to receive them.

The enemy, having the advantage of a knowledge of the country, chose their own ground for encountering our troops, and, truth to say, generally had the best of it. I do not wish to enlarge on the subject. I know that we gained very little honour and glory, but, after losing a considerable number of men, some from the bullets of the enemy and others from sunstrokes, the troops were ordered to embark again. Afterwards we heard that the Caribs were allowed to remain in possession of their rights. I suspect, however, that they did not retain them for any long period after this time.

I remember nothing of any particular importance happening to me till August, 1772, when we were lying in English Harbour, Antigua, in company with his Majesty’s ships Chatham, Sea-horse, and Active. I have good reason to remember the harbour well. It is small, but very pretty. The inner part is encircled by hills of various shapes and sizes, the outer is formed by a rocky ridge, with a fort on it guarding the narrow entrance. The capital, Saint Johns, is at the other side of the island, so that we were not able to get there as often as we wished. With little or no warning one of the most terrific hurricanes I ever encountered came down upon us, and before we could get our topmasts housed our masts went by the board, and at the same instant breaking from our anchors we were all driven on shore together. It was a case in which seamanship was of no avail, for before we could make any preparations to avert the evil the catastrophe had occurred. The same blast levelled with the ground all the stores and houses in the dockyard, as also the Naval Hospital and all the dwelling-houses and other buildings which it encountered in its course. Before we could attempt to heave the ships off we were obliged to clear them of everything, down to the very kelson, and even then we could not move them till we applied the most powerful purchases which could be invented. The Falcon had received so much injury that we were compelled to heave her down to repair her before she was fit for sea. While this operation was going forward I had the misfortune to break my right knee-pan, and for very long it was doubtful whether I should ever again have the free use of my leg. For sixteen weeks I remained in hospital, but at length, to my great satisfaction, was pronounced fit for duty.

I was now no longer a mere youngster, and had seen already a considerable amount of service. Early in 1773 I was appointed acting-lieutenant of the Falcon by Vice-Admiral Parry, who had superseded Admiral Mann. I now assumed the lieutenant’s uniform and walked the deck with no little amount of pride, hoping to be confirmed in my rank when at the expiration of her time on the station my ship should return to England. The change from a midshipman’s berth to the gun-room was very considerable, and as I shone away in what the Orlopians term white boot-tops, I was looked upon by them, with no little amount of envy. I was doomed, however, in this respect to suffer disappointment. In August, 1774, the Falcon returned home, the captain, the lieutenant of marines, another midshipman, and myself, being the only officers on board who had left England in her—the rest having died or changed into other ships. I must mention the kindness I ever received from Captain Baines while I remained with him. After I left the Falcon I served in the Folkstone cutter stationed at Bideford, and then joined the Wolf sloop of war, Captain Hayward. In the space of a few months I attended the funerals of his wife, his child, and lastly of himself. On quitting the Wolf I began what I may look upon as a new era in my life, and it is therefore a fitting period to commence a fresh chapter.

Note. Afterwards Sir Israel Pellew, the brother of the famous Lord Exmouth.

Chapter Two.

Commencement of the American War of Independence.—Appointed to the Orpheus frigate.—Causes of the war.—Sail in company with the Chatham for Halifax, Nova Scotia.—Stormy passage in mid-winter.—Lose sight of Chatham.—Lose masts.—The captain keeps at it.—Rig jury-masts.—A succession of gales.—Get in at last.—Our captain gains great credit.

I had enjoyed the otium cum dignitate of a midshipman’s life on shore scarcely more than six weeks when, in September, 1775, the shrill bugle-blast of war sounded the knell of the piping tunes of peace; and I received the very satisfactory intelligence that I was rated as master’s mate on board the Orpheus frigate, of fifty-two guns, Captain Hudson, then fitting for sea with all possible despatch at Plymouth, and destined for the North American station. I had hoped to have been confirmed in my rank as a lieutenant; but, disappointed in this, I was too glad under present circumstances to get afloat on any terms.

The peace which had now lasted for nearly ten years was thus abruptly terminated by the outbreak into open rebellion of the North American colonies, which led on to their Declaration of Independence. I was never anything of a politician, and I must confess that at that period of my existence I troubled myself very little about the rights of the case, though even then I had a lurking idea that the colonists were not quite the ragamuffins some people would have had us suppose. They had no fancy, it appeared, to pay taxes without having a voice as to the employment of their money or interest in the objects on which it was expended. The British Government and the upper classes generally at home had always treated the inhabitants of the colonies as if they considered them an inferior race, and almost beyond the pale of civilisation. This conduct had naturally caused much discontent and ill feeling, and made the colonists more ready to resent and oppose any attempt to curtail their rights and privileges. What was called the Stamp Act met with the first organised opposition. The Government offices were in many places pulled down, while the Governor of New York and other promoters of the Act were burnt in effigy. Many influential colonists then bound themselves to make use of no articles on which duties had been levied; while the people of Boston, proceeding a step farther, rather than pay the duty imposed by the British Government, threw into the sea the cargoes of several ships sent there by the East India Company laden with tea. This proceeding of the inhabitants of Boston induced the British Government to send General Gage, with an army, to take up his quarters there, with the intention of coercing them.

The belief that arbitrary Government was about to be established throughout the colonies made the people in every direction rise in arms. A rebel force, consisting of several thousand men, began to collect in the neighbourhood of the above-mentioned city. Petition after petition and remonstrance after remonstrance had been sent over to England in vain. The great Lord Chatham and the famous Mr Edmund Burke had pleaded the cause of the patriots with all the mighty eloquence they possessed; but without altering the resolution of the King or the Government. The celebrated Dr Franklin, already well known in England and America as a philosopher as well as a statesman, had come over to England to plead the cause of his countrymen, but had returned hopeless of effecting his object. What treatment, after this, could the colonists expect, if they yielded to the dictates of the mother-country?

The crisis at length arrived. There was at Concord, near Boston, a large magazine of military stores. General Gage sent a force to destroy it. The patriots collected in considerable numbers to oppose the British troops, and drove them back, with a heavy loss, into the city. This engagement, though little more than a skirmish, was called the Battle of Lexington. If its results were to be taken into consideration, few battles have been of more importance. Brethren had shed each other’s blood. Both parties were exasperated beyond control. The patriots felt their power; the royalists burned to wipe out the disgrace their arms had received. General Gage now regularly fortified Boston, which was in its turn besieged by the rebels. The whole continent was up in arms. Another successful enterprise had been undertaken by a leader of irregulars, who had seized the Ports of Ticonderoga and Crown Point, which gave the patriots the command of Lake George and the head of Lake Champlain, always recognised as the keys of Canada.

The patriots had by this time formed a regular Government. Each of the colonies had sent delegates to a general assembly held at Philadelphia, to which the name of the Congress was given. The Congress had authorised the formation of an army and had appointed as Commander-in-chief a gentleman of Virginia of good repute, Colonel George Washington. He was well known as a bold leader in frontier warfare against the Indians, and had also seen service against the French; besides this, he was a man of the highest moral qualities, which had gained him the respect of his fellow-colonists.

The event which had induced the Government to despatch my ship and others so hurriedly to the North American station was the battle of Bunker’s Hill, the news of which had just been received. The engagement itself would not have been of much consequence had it not proved that the rebels were resolved to fight it out to the last. The Americans, besieging Boston, had fortified a height above the city called Bunker’s Hill. General Gage resolved to dislodge them and to endeavour to raise the siege. Our troops, after much hard fighting and considerable loss, claimed the victory, having driven the enemy from the heights; but the Americans quickly rallied, and, many reinforcements coming up, the city was more closely invested than ever.

I frequently heard the subject of the rebellion discussed by my friends during my stay at home, and I cannot say that generally their sympathies were in favour of the colonists. A few took the view of the case entertained by Lord Chatham, Mr Burke, and a small band of enlightened men in advance of their age; but they mostly sided with the King and the Tories, and considered that the presumption of the colonists must be put down with a high hand. They little knew of what stuff the descendants of the Pilgrim Fathers—the sturdy Puritans, the dashing Cavaliers, the prim Quakers, and of many other classes whom persecution, poverty, or their crimes, had driven from Europe—were made, as I had full many opportunities afterwards of discovering. A just and judicious policy which at once would have granted all the rights the colonists demanded would have preserved the dignity of the mother-country and saved oceans of bloodshed; but it was ordained otherwise. The falsehood of traitors had taught our too credulous King to disbelieve in the loyalty as well as the courage of his trans-Atlantic subjects; and his ministers, in spite of all the warnings and the earnest entreaties of the colonists, persisted in forcing on them their obnoxious measures. I must again repeat, that at the time I allude to I did not see things in the serious light in which I have described them. It would never do if midshipmen were to turn politicians; still, I could not help hearing what others said on the subject, and I had plenty of time to think of what I had heard. The general cry was—“Crush the audacious rascals! Put down the traitorous villains with a strong hand! What, venture to disobey the authority of their lawful master and sovereign, King George? They will soon learn reason at the point of the sword!” Such were the sentiments shared by most on board, as well as throughout the army and fleet.

Had it not been for this outbreak of war, I had proposed volunteering to sail with Captain Cook, who had just then returned from his famous voyage in the Resolution with Captain Furneaux, who commanded the Adventure; and it was reported that he was about to start on another and still more important expedition, which he actually did on the following year.

During my stay on shore I had gone over to see my sister Mary and my brother-in-law, Jack Hayfield. Jack was the same good-natured, thoughtless creature as before, and had done as little to better himself as he had to improve me. I made inquiries for Tommy Rockets, whom I found was still at home, so I set out to see him and his mother, not forgetting what I knew would prove a welcome present to the poor woman. I found her looking more careworn and poverty-stricken than ever. She did not know me when I entered her cottage, for I was much grown and thoroughly sun-burnt.

“Well, dame,” said I, “how goes the world with you?” She looked at me hard, surprised that a stranger should make such an inquiry; then, suddenly recognising me, she sprang up, and in her joy was about, I believe, to kiss me as she would have done Tommy, when, recollecting herself, she took my hand, which I put out, and pressed it warmly. After I had told her somewhat of my adventures I asked her whether she would allow Tommy to accompany me the next time I went to sea. The poor woman turned pale at the question, but at last gasped out—

“If the lad wishes it, if it’s for his good, I dare not say him nay—but, oh, Master Hurricane, you’ll look after him—you’ll befriend him—you’ll protect him—he’s my only child, and he’s very simple and ignorant of the world’s ways.” I promised her that I would do my best for him, though I warned her he must trust to his own good conduct; and soon after Tommy came in. I saw at a glance that he had the stuff in him to make a sailor. He had grown into a stout, broad-shouldered lad, though still rather short, with fists big enough to fell an ox, a round, bullet head covered with curly hair, and a thoroughly honest, good-natured countenance, not wanting in intelligence, though a snubby nose, small eyes, and thickish lips formed his features. He had a strong struggle in his bosom, I saw, before he could make up his mind to tell his mother that he would accept my offer; but he could do little for their mutual support while he remained on shore, and I left him attempting to comfort her by telling her of the wealth with which he would ere long return to her.

As soon as I got my appointment I sent directions to Tom to join me at Plymouth, with a small sum to fit him out, being very certain that he would at once be taken on board. I had a wide round of farewell visits to pay to numerous friends who had been kind to me during my stay on shore. They all wished me plenty of prize-money and rapid promotion, but I cannot say that I had much expectation of getting either. I was much concerned at this time at observing the state of my father’s spirits. His worldly affairs were, I suspected, not flourishing, though, as he did not speak to me about them, I could not venture to make any inquiries of him on the subject. I could only cherish the hope that if I did realise a sailor’s dream and make any prize-money I might be able to render him some assistance. My poor mother’s health also was failing, weakened, as it long ago had been, by cares and responsibilities of her numerous family. With a heart therefore more full of misgivings than usual, I bade them and those of my brothers and sisters who remained at home farewell, and, with a chest rather more amply supplied with necessaries than when I first went to sea, I set off for my ship then lying at Hamoze, and joined her on the 15th of October, 1775. I was, as I fully expected, successful in getting Tommy Rockets rated as a landsman on board, and though, poor fellow, he at first looked very much like a fish out of water, and a very odd fish too, I saw that it would not be long before he would be perfectly at home on his new element.

As soon as he had been entered and had become one of the ship’s company, I told him to go aloft, to give him some experience before we got to sea. “What, to the top of them big sticks that grow out of the ship? They be plaguey high, Master Hurricane!” said he, looking up doubtingly, at the same time preparing to swarm up by the foremast itself. When he found that he might go up by the shrouds he seemed to think it a very easy matter, and before many days were over he could go aloft as quickly as any lad in the ship. I got an old seaman, Nol Grampus, who had sailed with me in two ships before, to look after him and to put him up to his duty, which, to do him justice, he was very anxious to learn. A little help of this sort to a lad when he first goes to sea is of great service to him in many ways; it gives him encouragement, it saves him from many a cuff and harsh word, and makes a seaman of him much sooner than he would otherwise become. On the 16th of the month we went into the Sound, where the remainder of the officers joined. By frequently sending press-gangs on shore we got together our ship’s company, but we had yet to learn the stuff they were made of. I was truly glad to find two or three old shipmates on board. One of them was Gerrard Delisle, my greatest friend. We had gone afloat at the same time and were exactly the same age and standing, though, I must confess, he was vastly my superior in education and ability. He had all the gallantry and impetuosity of an Irishman, with a warm heart full of generous feelings, and at the same time the polish of a man of the world, not always to be obtained in a cock-pit. Another friend of mine was Noel Kennedy, also a master’s mate. He was a Scotchman of good family, of which he was not a little proud. His pride in this respect was an amiable failing, if failing it was, for his great anxiety was to shed honour on his name. Among my other messmates were John Harris Nicholas, Richard Ragget, John Drew. A great pet of ours was little Harry Sumner—one of the smallest midshipmen who ever came to sea. Left an orphan, without a connexion bound to him by the ties of blood, the poor child had been sent afloat by his guardians as the simplest mode they could devise of disposing of him. The event was happy for him, for he soon found many more friends on board than he ever would on shore, and in a short time there was not a man of the ship’s company who would not have risked his life to shield him from injury. As I shall have to mention the officers and my other messmates in the course of my narrative I need not here describe them.

On the 30th, the moment we had cast off the lighters from alongside, we sailed for North America in company with the Chatham, bearing the flag of Rear-Admiral Shouldham, who was going out to take the chief command on that station. The wind continuing fair and the weather fine, we, on the following day, lost sight of the English shore, which many on board were destined never to see again—none of us, until months and months had passed by.

Things had begun to shake a little into their places and the officers and ship’s company to know something of each other by the time that we had got about three hundred leagues to the westward of Scilly. Instead, however, of keeping to the southward, where we might have found a continuance of fine weather, our captain, in his anxiety quickly to reach the scene of action, notwithstanding the advanced season of the year, ordered a northerly course to be steered. The consequence was that we had soon work to try the mettle of all hands. By noon on the 6th of November we fell in with a gale of wind which would as effectually have blown up the Houses of Parliament as would Guido Faulks and his barrels of gunpowder, if it could have got under them. Sail was shortened and all was made snug aloft in time, hat below many an article took a voyage which terminated in total shipwreck to itself or neighbours.

“Here comes a combing sea in a vengeance!” exclaimed Delisle, seizing hold of little Harry to save him from being by chance washed away. We were standing aft on the quarter-deck. On came the watery mountain with its curling crest of snowy foam, and, striking the ship with terrific force and with a noise like thunder, broke over the starboard chesstree, deluging the decks forward and carrying away a fine cutter off the larboard skidds, with some of the rails and carlings of the head.

“Where are we going to, Mr Delisle?” exclaimed little Harry, as he clung to his arm with a look of very natural terror in his countenance.

“To Halifax, in Nova Scotia, I hope,” answered Gerrard, laughing. “Where else should you think?”

“I thought we might be going to the bottom,” answered the poor boy with perfect simplicity; “but I’m not afraid, you know.”

“No reason why you should be, Harry,” answered Delisle. “The old barkie will have to swim through many a worse sea than this, let me tell you—so remember, my boy, you are never in future to begin to be afraid till you see the rest of us turn pale.”

Little Harry promised obedience, and he had before long ample opportunities of proving his nerves. The seamen, as they hurried about the decks, shook the water in showers, like Newfoundland dogs from their shaggy coats; and in a short time we had things put as much to rights as circumstances would allow.

The gale continued all night, but ceased on the following evening without having committed further damage, and from that time till the morning of the tenth we had tolerably fine weather. It then fell a stark calm, but there was an ominous cold-grey silky look in the sky which I did not like. The captain was constantly on deck, anxiously scanning the horizon, and Jonathan Flood, our old master, kept his weather-eye open, as if apprehensive of evil.

“Vary fine weather this, Mr Hurry,” said Andrew Macallan, our surgeon’s mate, who had come to sea for the first time. “Just a wee bit more wind to waft us on our way to the scene of action, and we may well be content.”

“Wait a bit, doctor, and we shall have wind enough and to spare,” replied I.

It was not long before my words were verified—though just after that the appearance of coming bad weather wore off, and even the captain and master seemed to think that a moderate breeze was all we had to look for. We were lying with our topsails on the caps and courses hauled up, when, without a moment’s warning, a gust of wind with the force of a hurricane laid the ship on her beam-ends.

“Up with the helm!” shouted the captain, who had that instant come on deck. “Brace round the foreyards—trice up—brail up the after sails!”

The helm was put up, but before the canvas could be handed, with claps like thunder, the main-topmast-staysail and jib were blown from the bolt-ropes, the topsails and courses were flying in shreds from the yards, the topsail sheets, clew-lines and bunt-lines were carried away, as were also the main-clew garnets, bunt-lines and leech-lines, while a more tremendous sea than I had ever before beheld got up as if by magic.

The ship, however, happily answered her helm and flew before the gale, which at the same time kept freshening and shifting round to every point of the compass.

All we could now do was to scud, and that every instant, as the wind and sea increased, became more and more dangerous. To bring her to under present circumstances was impossible—indeed, deprived of all means of handing the sails, we were helpless; and by this time every one of them was flying aloft in tattered streamers, adding not a little to the impetuous rate at which the gale drove us onward.

The seas, each apparently overtopping the other, kept following up astern, and before long one broke aboard us, deluging the decks and sweeping everything before it.

“Hold on! hold on for your lives, my men!” shouted the captain as he saw it coming.

Few needed the warning. When for a short time all was again clear we looked round anxiously to ascertain that none of our shipmates had been carried overboard. By next to a miracle all were safe. The carpenter and his crew were called aft to secure the stern ports and to barricade the poop with all the planks and shores they could employ, but to little purpose. The huge dark-green seas, like vast mountains upheaved from their base by some Titan’s power, came following up after us, roaring and hissing and curling over as if in eager haste to overwhelm us, their crests one mass of boiling foam. As I stood aft I could not help admiring the bold sweep of the curve they made from our rudder-post upwards, as high it seemed as our mizen-top, the whole a bank of solid water, with weight and force enough in it to send to the bottom the stoutest line-of-battle-ship in the Navy. The taste we got occasionally of their crests, as they now and then caught us up, was quite enough to make me pray that we might not have the full flavour of their whole body.

No one on board had thought all this time of the Chatham, and when at length we did look out for her she was nowhere to be seen. It was probable that she was in as bad a plight as ourselves, so that neither of us could have rendered the other assistance. Hour after hour passed without any improvement in the weather. Every instant we expected something worse to befall us. To remain below was out of the question, as at any moment we might be wanted. To keep the deck was scarcely possible, without the risk of being frozen to death or carried overboard. Matters were bad enough in the daytime, but when darkness came on and we went plunging away amid showers of snow and sleet and bitter frost, with the cold north-west wind howling after us, I thought of what the friends of some of our delicately-nurtured young gentlemen would say if they could see us, and, for my own part, often wished myself by the quiet fireside of the humblest cottage in old England. We did our best to look after little Harry Sumner, and got him stowed away carefully in his hammock, where we told him to lie still till he was wanted. There was no object in allowing him to remain on deck, where he could not be of use and was very likely to get injured.

“I’ll do as you tell me, Mr Hurry,” said he. “But I’m not afraid of the sea or the wind—if it were not for the bitter, bitter cold I would rather be on deck, I would indeed.”

“You’re a brave little fellow, Harry, but we must take care of you for some nobler work, and then I’ve no doubt you’ll give a good account of yourself,” said I. “So now go to sleep and try and get warm.”

Of my own immediate follower and protégé, Tom Rockets, I have said nothing since we came to sea. By the courage and activity he displayed on the present occasion he showed that he was made of the right stuff to form a first-rate seaman, and I had no reason to be ashamed of him.

The whole of that long, weary night did we run on, the gale rather increasing than falling, and when daylight broke over the waste of tumultuous waters the prospect seemed as unpromising as ever. Nothing could be done to get in any of our tattered canvas. The ship remained tight, and that was our chief comfort. At length, on the evening of the 11th, the wind began to drop a little. Everyone was on deck ready to take advantage of any opportunity which might occur for getting the ship into a better condition. Suddenly the wind shifted round to the north-east and dropped considerably. The hands were called aft. A fore-staysail was set on the mizen-mast—the helm was put down and the ship brought-to under it. The most necessary part of the rigging being also replaced, the ship’s company was divided into four watches, and all but the watch on deck were sent below to sleep. Never did weary seamen turn in with a greater good-will, or more require rest.

All hands had ample occupation the next day in unbending the remnants of our tattered canvas from the yards and in replacing it with a new suit of sails fore and aft, in reeving new running rigging, and in repairing the stern frame. All this was done with a tolerably fresh breeze blowing and a pretty heavy sea running, though moderate in comparison to what we had had and to what we were to encounter. This sort of weather continued till the 15th, during which interval we contrived to get things a little to rights. Gale number three now sprung up, and during the whole of it we lay under a balanced mizen. We did not escape, however, without damage, losing the bumkins and the remaining part of the carlings and rails of the head, and a part of the starboard quarter-gallery. The wind lulled again in the evening and continued moderate till the 19th, when it breezed up once more for the fourth time, and by the 21st we were in the centre of a perfect hurricane. Still nothing would induce our captain to run back or to endeavour to make his way across the Atlantic in a more southerly latitude. He had made up his mind that this northerly route was the right one to take, and he was not a man to be diverted from his purpose. The gale had been blowing for some hours, when at about one o’clock in the morning watch, the night being dark as Erebus, the ship pitching heavily into the seas and straining terrifically, Delisle and I were on deck together, endeavouring to pierce with our eyes the thick obscurity into which we were driving. It was much of a time for moralising, considering the showers of snow which ever and anon beat into our faces, the sheets of spray which came aboard and froze as it fell over us, and the biting wind which blew down our throats.

“No unapt picture this, of the life of many of us, Hurry,” said my companion. “Here have we been knocking about for some weeks very much the worse for wear—no nearer our voyage’s end, and utterly unable to say whither we are driving. I doubt much that we have seen the worst yet.” Scarcely had he spoken when a gust stronger than ever struck the ship. We felt her quiver and shake all over, and at the same instant there was a terrific crash forward. I hurried to see what had occurred. The foremast had been carried away about twenty feet above the forecastle, and lay over the lee fore-chains. The captain was on deck in a moment, and all hands were called to clear the wreck. In doing this the main-topmast-stay was cut, and thereby the main-topmast was carried away, severely wounding in its fall nine men. The poor fellows were borne below and placed under the surgeon’s care. The morning came and showed us our sad condition; but the gale had not yet sufficiently shorn us of our pride or tried to the full our captain’s perseverance, for soon after daybreak another gust struck us. I looked up to see what was next to happen. Before me stood our stout mainmast. Then, as if wrenched by a giant’s grasp, the shrouds and stays were torn away, and with a loud crash down it came by the board, crushing the booms, gallows, bits, gangway-rails, and the fore part of the quarter-deck, and staving in the long-boat and a large cutter so as to destroy them completely. The daylight enabled those on deck to stand from under in time to escape injury; but it was a work of time, danger, and difficulty to clear the ship of the wreck, for while we were engaged in it the sea was constantly breaking over us fore and aft, threatening every instant to engulph the ship. At the same time we were in momentary expectation of seeing the mizen-mast share the fate of the other masts. At length, having cleared the wreck, we hoisted a fore-topgallant-sail to the stump of the foremast, which we stayed up as well as we could, and were thereby able to keep the ship once more before the wind, though even then the heavy seas which followed us threatened every moment to break aboard. We were truly in a forlorn condition—with our fore and mainmasts gone, two suits of sails carried away with the exception of the sails on the mizen-mast, the remainder required for jury-sails whenever the weather would allow us to erect jury-masts—with numbers of the crew falling sick from exposure and excessive fatigue, and with a ship strained and battered in every direction. At length, the wind getting round to the westward, with unequivocal reluctance Captain Hudson resolved to bear up, to the very great satisfaction of everybody else on board. We were then four hundred and sixty leagues from the Lizard. For several days more the gale continued, and we were all in expectation of shortly reaching England and getting a thorough refit, when the weather suddenly became more moderate than heretofore. The opportunity was immediately taken of erecting jury-masts, and all hands were employed on this important work. To do this we had to use all the studden-sail-booms and spare spars on board. When completed and set up, they were pronounced to be equal if not superior to any ever before under similar circumstances fitted at sea. The captain looked at them with no little satisfaction, and complimenting the ship’s company on what had been done, called the officers aft, and informed them that he was resolved to attempt once more to reach the coast of America. Had there been a war with France, we should have been eager to get to our station, but as we expected to have little enough to do in putting down the American rebellion, I cannot say that our captain’s announcement was received with any great satisfaction. For several days we made tolerably fair progress, but on the 2nd of December a gale of wind sprang up, and carried away our jury-main-topmast and top-yard, and split the sail from clew to earing. During the whole of this month the weather continued as boisterous as at the commencement. Disaster followed disaster in quick succession. Among others, we lost four top-masts, six topsail-yards, one mainsail and one foresail, two topsails and one fore-topsail, besides which the cover of the arm-chest fell out of the mizen-top, and, striking the gunner, knocked out four of his teeth, broke his shoulder in two places, and cut his right eye in the most shocking manner. He was carried below in great agony, and his life was despaired of. I need not mention any more of the accidents we encountered. It may be supposed that by this time we were in a tolerably forlorn condition, with nearly every yard of our spare canvas expended, and with scarcely a spar remaining to replace our jury-masts, should they be carried away. Unpleasant, however, as was our position, I must say that we respected our captain for his perseverance, though it had become the pretty generally received opinion on board, both fore and aft, that we were destined never to reach our station. All sorts of stories were going the round of the decks. An old woman near Plymouth, Mother Adder-fang she was called, had been heard to declare, two nights before the ship went out of harbour, that not a stick of the Orpheus would ever boil a kettle on English ground. Another was said to have cursed the ship and all on board. Then we had a fine variety of Flying Dutchman’s tales, till the men began to look upon the captain as a sort of Vanderdecken himself, and to fancy, I verily believe, that we were destined ourselves to box about till the day of judgment. Now of course a man of calm sense should be uninfluenced by these sort of tales—we should be well assured that God only knows the future, and that words of anger, uttered by a wicked, ignorant old woman, cannot possibly alter His determination; still, when a man is worn out with fatigue, hardship and hunger, when the gale howls fiercely, and the raging seas appear every instant ready to engulph the ship, he cannot help thinking of the words he has heard and the stories which have been told him, and looking forward with sad forebodings to the future.

In spite, however, of the raging storm, the battered condition of the ship, and the predictions of disaster, we jolly Orlopians resolved not to be baffled in keeping our Christmas dinner in the accustomed manner as far as circumstances would allow. Our means for so doing were certainly not very extensive, either with regard to our condiments or the utensils for serving them in. The greater part of our crockery had been broken in the previous gales, and all our luxuries had long been consumed. We managed, however, to exhibit a dish of boiled beef at one end of the table, and one of boiled pork at the other, and a tureen of peas-soup and a peas-pudding; while our second course was a plum-pudding of huge dimensions, and solid as a round-shot—the whole washed down with a bowl of punch. Our seats were secured to the deck, and the dishes were lashed to the table, while it required no small amount of ingenuity and rapidity to convey each mouthful from our plates to our mouths. Never did the good ship tumble and roll about more violently than she did on that 25th of December, while we young gentlemen were drinking “sweet-hearts and wives,” and other appropriate toasts. Let my readers picture us to themselves, if they can, as we sat, each member of the mess holding on like grim death to either a dish, or bowl, or can, or mug, endeavouring, often in vain, to keep the contents from spilling, and then to carry a portion of them to his mouth, our voices now clattering away together, now one of us breaking forth into a song, and joined in chorus by the rest, the ship rolling and pitching, the bulkheads creaking and groaning, and the wind howling overhead. The contrast between the picture we presented and the dining-room of a comfortable, well-lighted country-house in England on the same day was not small.

Our condition was not improved when at length the year 1776 commenced. We had expended all our sails with the exception of those actually bent to the yards; of spars we had scarcely one remaining. In consequence also of the great expenditure of provisions and stores, the ship had become so light that she rolled excessively and with so quick and rapid a motion that some of the guns in the galley, drawing their ring-bolts from the side, broke loose, and before they could be secured committed much damage. Added to all this it was announced that our supply of water was very short, and we were put on an allowance of a pint for each person. On these occasions the captain and the smallest boy share alike. If any of us breakfasted or dined in the gun-room or cabin, we carried with us our allowance of water to help make the tea. We were still fully four hundred leagues from the coast, and to all appearances as little likely to make it as we had been a month back. The officers were unanimous in their opinion that we should bear up for the West Indies, but Captain Hudson still resolved to persevere and to endeavour to gain our intended port. Though I, like the rest, was heartily sick of the life we had been enduring, and longed as much as anybody to get into port, I could not help admiring the perseverance and determination of our captain. Grave and anxious as he could not help appearing at times, he did his utmost generally to assume a cheerful countenance, and by words of encouragement to keep up the spirits of the men. As, however, one after the other the people fell sick, and disaster upon disaster overtook us, I more than once, when I went into the cabin, found him sitting pale and silent at the table, with his head resting on his hand, evidently meditating on the responsibilities of his position.

Meantime the men forward were grumbling and evincing no slight mutinous disposition. “Here, old ship, do ye see, have we been boxing about for the best parts of two months, and for what we knows to the contrary, farther off from our port than ever we were,” I heard one of the quartermasters, Jos Lizard, observing to a messmate, another old salt of the same kidney. Old Jos, as he was called, was somewhat of a sea lawyer in his way, though not the less superstitious on that account.

“Well, what’s to be done, mate?” asked his chum, Ben Goff.

“Done!” exclaimed old Jos; “why, I axes, are we to go knocking our heads against Providence, so to speak, till we’ve no water and no grub, and then to rot away, as I’ve heard of a ship’s company doing, and one left to tell about it!”

“No, old salt, I wouldn’t for one wish to do that same; but how’s it to be helped?” asked Goff.

“Helped!” said Lizard, with a look of scorn, “helped! why, let’s go aft to the captain, and tell him our mind. Either we bears up for a port, or let the ship sink at once; it’s only what we must come to at last. We’ll get the rum casks on deck, and have a regular jollification of it first. Then no matter what turns up, we sha’n’t know much about it.”

I well knew the horrible folly seamen are capable of, so I thought it best to put a stopper at once on the precious notion old Jos had got into his head. I therefore presented myself suddenly before the two men. “You’re a couple of donkeys, to talk such nonsense as you’ve just been doing!” I exclaimed, in a contemptuous tone. “Do you think two ignorant old fellows like you know better than the captain what ought to be done? Let me hear no more about it. I am not going to report what I overheard, and if you catch any of the other men talking the game sort of stuff, just let them know what fools they are.” I felt that it would not do to reason with the men, but that I should have a better chance of putting them off this notion by making them feel ashamed of themselves, and this I think I succeeded in doing. I cannot say, however, that I felt very sanguine as to the termination of the voyage.

What the temper of the crew might at length have led to, I don’t know, but at last we got a slant of fair wind and moderate weather, and it was announced that we were within twelve leagues of Cape Sambro, near the entrance of the harbour of Halifax. As may be supposed, there was great rejoicing on board; all our troubles and misfortunes were forgotten, and we fully expected to be in harbour the next day. That night Delisle and I were on deck together. Kennedy also was there, and little Harry Sumner. Mr Gaston, the third lieutenant, had charge of the watch. We were congratulating ourselves on the turn which fortune had made in our favour, when Delisle called my attention to a thick gloom which was gathering over the land. We pointed it out to Mr Gaston, and asked him what it signified.

“That we are going to have another gale, which may drive us farther to the southward than we have hitherto been,” he replied.

Scarcely had he spoken than the first indications of the coming wind reached us—a rising sea and a driving shower of sleet—the helm was put up, and the ship kept before the wind, and then down came the gale upon us, and once more we were driving before it, surrounded by dense sheets of snow, which prevented us from seeing a yard beyond our bowsprit end. Away we went during the whole of the next day and night and the following day, driving madly before the gale. If the ship’s company had before this been full of forebodings of coming ill, it is not surprising that they should now have entirely abandoned all hope of ever again seeing land. On the 25th of January we were eighty leagues from the Cape, and more distressed than ever for masts, spars, sails, provisions, and water. So short, indeed, was our store of the latter necessary that we were now put on an allowance of half a pint a day; so severe also was the frost that we were compelled to throw hot water on the sails when they were furled before we could set them. The men more rapidly than before fell sick day after day, and completely lost their spirits, and it became the fashion when the watch turned out for them to inquire what fresh accident had occurred.

At length one night, as I lay sleeping in my hammock, I was awoke by a terrific noise. I found that the ship was on her beam-ends. There was a rushing of water, a crashing of timbers, a splitting of sails, the howling of wind, the cries and shrieks and stamping of men. I felt certain that the fatal and long-expected stroke had been given, and that I and all on board were about to be hurried into eternity. I have been since in many a hard-fought battle, I have seen death in every form, but I never felt its horrors so vividly as I did on that night. I remained in my hammock without attempting to dress, for I thought that I might as well drown as I was, and I had not the remotest expectation of being saved. Still the water did not reach me, and at length I heard Kennedy’s voice rousing up the idlers to go on deck, and help take the canvas off the ship.

“We’ve been in very great danger, and for some minutes I thought it was all over with us,” he observed: “we’ve brought her to, however, and she may ride out this gale as she has done many others.”

“I hope so,” said I, springing up and putting on my clothes, while Kennedy hurried on deck. I found that the chief noise had been caused by a number of shot boxes breaking loose from the mainmast, and as the ship heeled over, they came rushing under my hammock and crushing everything before them. I had no little difficulty in getting them secured. This appeared to be the last piece of malice those winter gales had to play us. The next day the weather moderated, and we were able to lay a course for Halifax. We could scarcely believe our senses as we found ourselves entering that magnificent harbour, after our protracted and disastrous voyage. We had been out ninety seven days, ten weeks of which time we had been under jury-masts. Our only squaresail was a spritsail at the main-yard to serve as a mainsail. The whole ship was covered with ice, and a most complete wreck she looked in every respect. We had the second lieutenant, gunner, and seventy-three men sick, twenty of whom were suffering from frost-bites. No wonder that such was our condition when we had encountered no less than forty-five heavy gales of wind, and it spoke well for the soundness of the hull of our ship that she had held together so perfectly. Our captain, officers, and ship’s company received the thanks of the commander-in-chief for their perseverance and resolution, and certainly no one deserved more credit than did our captain, for the determined way in which he held on and succeeded in bringing his ship into harbour.

The next Sunday we all repaired to church, to return public thanks to Almighty God for preserving us from the perils and hardships of the sea, to which we had been so long exposed. It was a solemn and touching occasion. Two and two, the captain at our head, and the officers following with the ship’s company, we all marched up together to the church. Thoughtless and careless about our spiritual being as we generally were, I believe very few among us did not feel our hearts swell with gratitude to the Great Being who had so mercifully watched over and preserved us from the dangers to which we had been exposed, when the minister gave forth the words of that beautiful hymn of thanksgiving,—“The sea roared, and the stormy wind lifted up the waves thereof. We were carried up as it were to heaven, and then down again to the deep; our soul melted within us because of trouble. Then cried we unto Thee, O Lord, and Thou didst deliver us out of our distress. Blessed be Thy name, who didst not despise the prayer of Thy servants, but didst hear our cry, and hast saved us. Thou didst send forth Thy commandment, and the windy storm ceased, and was turned into a calm.” The minister also gave us a sermon appropriate to the occasion, and most deeply attentive to it were the greater part of the ship’s company. There is as much religious feeling about seamen as in any class of men, though they are in general grossly ignorant of the doctrine of the Gospel. This is owing entirely to the wicked neglect of those of the upper classes who ought to have seen that they were properly instructed. I have, however, only to remark that it is the duty of the rising generation, not to sit idly down, and with upturned eyes to abuse their ancestors, but to arouse themselves, and by every means in their power to remedy the neglect of which they were guilty. The people seemed very soon to forget the hardships they had endured, and I fear likewise that the recollection of the mercies vouchsafed to us speedily passed from our memories.

Chapter Three.

Halifax harbour.—Life in the backwoods.—Dangerous expedition through the ice.—Lord Shouldham’s fleet with Lord Howe’s army arrives.—Sail for Nantucket Roads.—Boston cannonaded.—Watering-party on shore.—Capture whaling sloop Ranger.—Cruise in her with Grampus and Tom Rockets.—Her skipper’s trick defeated.—Reach Halifax.—Ordered on board Chatham.—Sail for New York.—General Washington holds possession of the city.

The harbour of Halifax is a very fine one. A thousand ships may anchor there in safety. It is our chief naval station in North America. The town, which is a handsome one, stands on a peninsula, and rises gradually from the water’s edge, where there are numerous wharves, alongside which ships can lie to discharge their cargoes. We found in the harbour the Cerberus frigate, Captain Symonds, (see Note 1), hove down alongside the wharf, as also the Savage sloop of war, wearing Commodore Arbuthnot’s broad pennant.

The inhabitants cordially welcomed our arrival, as they were in hourly expectation of an attack from a body of rebels who were said to be marching on the town, while the organised force existing for its defence was very small. At length an express arrived from the interior, stating that the enemy were at the distance of about twenty miles, at a small village of which they had taken possession. We were instantly ordered under arms to protect the dockyard, and fully expected to have warm work. The people who formed the rebel bands had been instigated to revolt by the revolutionists of the southern colonies, who had formed a plan at this time to invade Canada, which happily proved abortive. They themselves, as far as I could learn, had no real cause of complaint.

After we had waited for some time in expectation of an attack, notice was brought us that the rebels had plundered and burned the village where they had quartered themselves, and then retired. We were therefore able to employ all hands in refitting the ship, a work to us of the greatest importance. The cold, however, was so great that we suffered no little inconvenience from exposure to it. All the meat, I remember, which came on board, was frozen so hard that we were invariably obliged to cut it up into pieces with a cross-saw, to serve it out to the messes. Quantities of fish also of a peculiarly fine flavour were to be picked up daily, frozen to death, on the surface of the ice, thrown up by the united action of the tide and sea. As there were no masts and spars in the dockyard, we found that we should be obliged to send a party into the woods, fully ten miles from the town, to cut down trees suitable for the purpose. I was ordered to accompany the party appointed for this object. My friend Delisle was with me, and Tom Rockets went as my servant.

Having provided ourselves with blankets, provisions, cooking utensils, and other means of making ourselves comfortable, away we trudged over the snow, following our guide, John Nobs by name, who was to show us where we might find the sort of timber we required. It was the first time I had ever been in an American forest. The deep silence which reigned around, and the perfect solitude were very impressive. The tall leafless trees, springing up out of the sheet of snow which covered the whole face of nature, were the only objects to be seen.

We were merry enough as we tramped away in the keen, pure air over the crisp snow. As some thirty pair of feet, stepping out together, went crunch—crunch—crunch—the noise was so loud, that we were obliged to raise our voices to make ourselves heard. Delisle and I marched directly after our leader old Nobs, our men following, laughing, talking, and singing, as the mood seized them.

At length, having gone some way through the forest, Nobs began to look about him attentively. He was not a man of many words.

“That’s ’um,” said he, pointing with his chin to some tall, straight fir-trees, up to which he had led us. We saw also that a considerable number of the same description grew in the neighbourhood.

“I suppose, then, we may call a halt?” said I.

Nobs nodded. We had been told that he would show us how to build some huts for sheltering our party.

“Some on you with axes come along,” said he, turning to the men, and away he trudged till we reached a clump of graceful, white-stemmed birch-trees. Scoring down the stems, he quickly ripped off huge sheets of bark, some five and six feet long, and two and three broad. The men followed his example, and we soon had as much as the whole party could carry.

“Stay, that won’t do alone,” observed Nobs; and he commenced cutting some thin poles, seven or eight feet long, from saplings growing in the neighbourhood. With these we returned to the spot we had fixed on for an encampment. Scarcely uttering a word, having got some men to assist him, he erected a framework of a cone-shape, with about eight of the poles, fastening the upper ends together with a piece of rope. He then covered the framework with sheets of bark, leaving a doorway and a small space open at the top.

“There you have an Indian wigwam,” said he.

From the pattern he had thus formed, the men very soon erected wigwams enough to shelter the whole party. He then collected some dried wood, of which there was an abundance about, and lighted a fire in the middle of his hut. The hole left at the top of it allowed the smoke to escape. The snow, which had first been cleared away in the interior, was piled-up round the hut outside, and the ground was then beaten hard. He showed us how to make our couches of dried leaves; and at night, wrapped in our blankets lying round the fire, we found that we could sleep most luxuriously.

Having thus speedily made all these necessary arrangements, we set to work to select the trees fit for our purpose. As soon as we had fixed on them, Nobs threw off all his outer clothing, and with his gleaming axe began chopping away like a true backwoodsman at one of the largest of the trees. The carpenter’s crew followed his example. The air was so calm that while the men were actively employed they felt not the slightest sensation of cold. The moment they ceased, however we made them put on their clothing.

Nobs was thoroughly versed in all the customs of backwoodsmen, so he was able to show us how to make ourselves comfortable, and I learned many lessons from him which I, on many subsequent occasions, found very useful. Among other things he showed us how to roast our meat by spitting bits of it on a long thin stick, which rested on two forked sticks stuck in the ground. Indeed, we enjoyed ourselves far more than we expected.

Tom Rockets and another lad slept in our wigwam, to assist in keeping up the fire. I lay awake for a short time, when my ears were saluted with the sound of a long, low howl. I presently heard Tom stir himself.

“Oh, Jim, sure them be the ghostesses we heard tell of,” said he. “I hope they won’t be coming this way now.”

“I hopes not,” replied his companion. “Them be dreadful things I do think, by the noise they makes.”

Just then there was a louder howl than before.

“Oh, they be coming!” cried Tom. “I’ll rouse up Mr Hurry. Maybe he’ll know how to tackle ’em.”

Highly diverted with the opinion my followers had formed of my prowess against not only mortal but spiritual enemies, I lay still, wishing to hear what he would next say. The hideous howl approached still nearer.

“I can’t stand it!” he exclaimed. “Muster Hurry! Muster Hurry! there be ghostesses, or devils, or some such things abroad, a-playing of their pranks, and they be coming to eat us up, Muster Hurry, I be sure!”

I burst into a fit of laughter, so loud that it woke Delisle. It was responded to, it seemed, by so unearthly a cry from the depths of the forest, that even he for a moment was startled. Then there was the report of firearms, and looking out of our wigwam, I saw old Nobs standing in front of his, with a musket in his hand.

“I’ve druve the varmints away,” he said, in his usual laconic style. “You may turn in, mister.”

I took his advice, for it was very cold outside.

“The wolves will not probably disturb us again,” said I, as I lay down.

“Wolves! be them wolves?” I heard Tom remark; but as I soon fell asleep, I do not know what more he said.

Towards the morning I was again awoke by loud shouts, and growls, and cries, and the sound of a tremendous tussle.

“I’ve caught ye, my bo!” I heard Tom exclaim. “If ye be a ghost or a devil, ye shall just show yourself to Muster Hurry, before I let ye go.”

Starting up, I found the two lads struggling with some beast or other at the entrance to the wigwam. I soon discovered that they had got hold of a black bear, who had doubtless been attracted to our wigwam by a pot of sugar which had been left at the entrance, into which he was putting his paw when Rockets discovered him. The noise brought a number of the other men from the huts. They thought we were attacked by Indians or the rebels, I believe. The poor beast made a good fight of it; but before I could come to his rescue, he had been somewhat severely handled. We, however, easily secured him, and kept him prisoner till we settled what should be done with him. He was, we learned from old Nobs, of a species not at all ferocious, and very easily tamed. We therefore determined, instead of killing him in order to turn him into ham, to carry him on board as a pet. He very soon became reconciled to his lot, and at once ate willingly from our hands any mess we offered, particularly if sweetened with sugar. Rockets considered him as his own prize, and took him under his especial care. The men gave him the name of Sugar-lips, and as Tom stood his sponsor he was known on board as Tommy Sugar-lips.

However, I must not spend more time on my shore adventures, as I have matter of so much greater interest to describe. In about five days we had cut down and trimmed a sufficient number of trees for our purpose. The greatest labour was to drag them over the snow to the harbour; but at length that was accomplished, and we returned once more on board.

Shortly after this the frost set in harder than ever, but in consequence of the rapidity of the tides the ice, though fully four feet thick, did not form a consistent body in the harbour. In some places it was hard, but the chief quantity round the ship was like a mass of wet snow, too soft and too rotten to walk on, and yet too thick to allow a boat of any size to be impelled through it. Thus all communication with the town was suddenly cut off. At this time we had a gang of men on the opposite shore, fitting the rigging at a spot where they could procure no provisions. They were getting very hard up for food, when Captain Hudson sent for me.

“Mr Hurry,” said he, “I wish to send some provisions to the people on shore. It will be a service of difficulty, and perhaps danger, but I can entrust it confidently to you; you must take a couple of hands and a light boat, and you may be able to force her either over or through the ice.”

“Ay, ay, sir,” I answered; “I’ll do it if it is to be done.” And away I went to make my preparations without loss of time. I always felt an inclination to volunteer for any work to be done, and never thought of throwing difficulties in the way of the performance of any thing that was proposed. I chose Nol Grampus, the old quarter-master, and Tom Rockets as my companions in the enterprise. The dinghy, a small boat we carried astern, was the best suited to my purpose. Having laden her with provisions, we shoved off from the ship among the floating ice. Our progress was very slow, sometimes we worked our way among the sheet ice, then we came to a hard slab on to which we jumped and hauled the boat over it. “Take care, sir,” said Grampus, as we were crossing a slab, “this is treacherous stuff we are on.” Just as he spoke I felt my feet sinking into the slush, and had I not had firm hold of the gunwale, I might have gone through altogether. As I sprang into the boat I could not help shuddering at the thought of sinking into the cold deadly mass which surrounded us without the possibility of making an effort for life; too dense to enable one to swim, and yet too liquid to bear the weight of a person, it was as sure to destroy one as the treacherous quicksand or the furious maelstrom. Near us was another boat with an old man and a boy, likewise endeavouring to cross the harbour. We saw that they were exerting all their energies, but were not making better progress than we were. After some time the tide made down stronger, and on taking our bearings I found that the ice was setting us fast down the harbour and out to sea. My men needed no encouragement to exert themselves to the utmost, for the peril we were in was very apparent. Captain Hudson observed it also, and made the signal for us to return to the ship, but it was even more difficult to go back than to go forward. In attempting to obey the order I found that we were carried more into the strength of the current. I therefore kept on towards the wharf, where some hundreds of people were collected, rather anxious spectators of our adventure. Captain Symonds, of the Cerberus, and the master-attendant of the dockyard were looking on, and they also hailed to me to return to the ship. Sometimes we appeared to be making no progress whatever, and I felt the probability of our being carried out to sea—then again we advanced, though slowly, towards the shore. The old man and his boy were less able to contend with the difficulties which surrounded them. The old man had hurt himself, I fancy, and by degrees relaxed in his efforts—the poor little fellow was still putting forth all his strength to urge their boat forward, but it was too evidently likely to prove unavailing.

At last they slowly drifted past us, and though at so short a distance that I could clearly see the expression of their countenances we could render them no possible assistance. I shall not quickly forget the poor old man’s look of despair and grief—more perhaps for the coming fate of his boy than for himself. The poor lad had not yet given up all hopes of escape. Now he would sit down and wring his hands, and then he would start up, and, seizing an oar, try once more to shove the boat ahead. We had little time, however, for contemplating their fate, for there was still a great probability that we might have to share it. We were yet drifting seaward, and for hours together our utmost exertions only enabled us to hold our own. I can easily fancy the interest we excited on shore, yet nothing could be thought of to help us. We could hear the cry of horror and commiseration which rose from the crowd as the boat with our companions in misfortune drifted past the spot whence there was any hope of escape, and the old man and lad sat down and gave themselves up to despair. The intense cold would, I guessed, soon deprive them of all sensation and further power of exertion. Night was coming on, and we lost sight of them in the gloom. We had now been six hours in our perilous position, without time even to take a particle of nourishment. We were making for the Cerberus as the nearest point where we could receive assistance.

“We shall reach her, sir!” exclaimed Grampus at length, with a cheerful tone. “See, they are ready to heave us a line if we could but get a few fathoms nearer.” Encouraged by this, we exerted ourselves still more than ever, and at length a man from the jibboom end of the Cerberus hove a lead which happily reached our boat. We seized it eagerly, and making the line fast, we were hauled alongside the wharf. As soon as we landed and had received the congratulations of the spectators of our adventure, we were carried off, half-starved and frozen, by the master-attendant, Mr Prowse, to his house; where we were most hospitably entertained. I found in him an old shipmate, as he had been master of the Torbay when I belonged to her. I spent upwards of two days at his house, and received the greatest of kindness from him. While on shore I met another old friend, Captain Lee, of the Harriet Packet, with whom I almost lived during his stay at Halifax. As may be supposed, I found his comfortable cabin a far more agreeable place of abode than a midshipman’s berth with the rough and scanty fare with which we were provided. I was anxious to ascertain the fate of the old man and his son whom we had seen carried out to sea by the ice. Sad to relate, they had been picked up two days afterwards at the mouth of the harbour, frozen to death. They must have died, I suspect, soon after we lost sight of them, for the cold was so intense that it could not long have been resisted. We had, indeed, cause to be thankful to providence that their fate was not ours. It is but one of the many instances in which I have been mercifully preserved, while those by my side have been cut off. For what end has this been done? I wish that I could say that I have properly employed the longer term of life thus vouchsafed to me. There had been at Halifax all the winter a very limited supply of provisions. At length a fleet appeared off the harbour’s mouth, which proved to be that under the command of Admiral Lord Shouldham, with the army of General Howe on board, (see Note 2), who had been compelled by the American revolutionists, under General Washington, to evacuate Boston, after having been besieged in it for fully ten months. It will be remembered that we parted from the Chatham, Admiral Shouldham’s flag-ship, in a gale in the early part of our voyage. She went through as much bad weather, and experienced almost as many disasters as we had suffered, though at length she reached Boston, where Lord Shouldham succeeded Admiral Graves as Commander-in-Chief. Our disasters throughout the whole of that sad contest with the American States arose from the foolish contempt with which the British generals and their officers treated the provincial troops. While General Howe was waiting for reinforcements from England, General Washington was collecting an army and disciplining his troops. Before, therefore, the expected reinforcements could arrive, General Howe, to his great surprise, found himself outnumbered, and the city commanded from some hills which overlook it, called Dorchester Heights. He found that he must either dislodge the enemy from these heights or evacuate Boston. A heavy gale of wind prevented the adoption of the former alternative till the rebels were too strongly entrenched to allow the attempt to be made with any prospect of success. A hurried retreat was therefore resolved on, and not only the troops, but those of the inhabitants who had sided with the British, were compelled to embark on board the men-of-war and transports, vast quantities of military stores and property of all sorts being either destroyed or left behind, to fall into the hands of the enemy. This fleet had arrived ill provided with provisions to feed so many mouths, and from there being, as I have said, but a scanty supply of food in Halifax already, it was considered necessary to put the army and navy on half allowance—an arrangement to which, though very disagreeable, we were compelled to submit with the best grace we could muster. From the time of our arrival till the 4th of May we were busily occupied in fitting the ship for sea, and not an hour was lost after that was accomplished, in getting under weigh, when we stood to the southward. We were not sorry to have the chance of seeing some active service. On the 8th we spoke HMS Merlin, with two transports bound for Halifax, on the 12th the Milford and Lively, on a cruise. On the same day we anchored in Nantucket Roads, Boston, where we found lying the Renown, wearing the broad pennant of Commodore Banks, which we saluted with thirteen guns. A constant cannonade was kept up on the squadron by the rebels who now held Boston and the surrounding heights, but without doing us much mischief. We returned the fire occasionally with probably about the same result. After their late successes the American patriots had become very bold, and no longer held the British in any respect. Some parts of the coast of the harbour were left unprotected by the enemy. One night I was sent on shore in command of a watering-party, with strict orders to keep a watchful guard against surprise. To do this I considered it necessary to take possession of a house near the spot where we were filling the casks. As the house was deserted I carried off a table and six chairs which I found in it, with which to furnish the midshipman’s berth—ours having been knocked to pieces on the voyage to Halifax.

By the rules of war I had a right to take the property, I believe, but it seems hard that the owners, who were probably not belligerents, should be deprived of it. On the following day, the 15th, we sailed on a cruise in search of any of the enemy’s merchantmen or privateers, of which they had begun to fit out a good many. The crews ran a great risk of being treated as pirates, but as the rebels had already threatened to retaliate, should the usual customs of regular warfare be departed from, it was judged prudent to behave towards those who fell into our hands as if they were regular prisoners of war.

We had begun to grumble much at our ill-luck in not falling in with prize. “Ye’ll na take anything which will put siller into any of our pockets this cruise, ma laddies,” said Andrew Macallan, the Scotch surgeon’s mate, who was much addicted to the prophesying of ill-luck.

We Orlopians were collected in the midshipman’s berth towards the termination of a not over-luxurious dinner. “I should think not,” responded Kennedy. “What can we expect to get out of these beggarly provincials? It’s not likely they’ll have any craft afloat which will be worth capture.”

“How do you know that?” exclaimed Frank Mercer, one of our mates, with a deep crimson flush on his brow. “Now, from what I have heard, I believe the patriots have a number of fine merchantmen sailing out of their ports, and have already fitted out several privateers.”

“From which of your friends on shore did you hear that?” asked Kennedy, with a look of contempt.

“From common report,” replied Mercer. He was known to have several relations and friends in America who had sided with the rebels, and though this made him look on them with a favourable eye, he had too loyal a spirit to allow him to contemplate for a moment the desertion of his colours. Still his heart often yearned towards those engaged in what then appeared so unequal a struggle on shore, and he could scarcely help expressing satisfaction at any success they met with. Poor Mercer had to endure a great deal of irony and abuse on the subject, but while he defended the rebels, and asserted their right to take up arms in the defence of their liberties, he acknowledged that his own duty was to remain loyal to his sovereign. The dispute was waxing warm, when little Harry Sumner, who had been on deck, came below, and announced that there was a suspicious sail away to the north-east, and that we were in chase of her. I was on deck in a minute, and found everything being set alow and aloft in chase of the stranger. After watching her for some time from aloft, where I had gone with my spy-glass, I saw that we were gaining on her rapidly, though she had also made all sail. This convinced us that she was a craft belonging to the enemy. She was sloop-rigged, but seemed to be a vessel of some size. After a chase of four hours we got her within range of our guns, when a shot from one of our bow-chasers, falling close alongside, convinced her that she had no chance of escape, and that her wisest policy was to heave-to without more ado. This she at once did, and I was sent on board to take possession. She proved to be the Ranger, from Nantucket harbour, bound on a whaling voyage, her crew consisting of a master, mate, boy, and ten men. Her master, Mr Jotham Scuttle, was very indignant at being captured, and good reason he had to be so, for half the vessel was his own, and thus in a moment he was deprived of all his worldly wealth. He was as unlike a seaman in appearance as could well be imagined; with his broad-brimmed hat, knee-breeches, buckles to his high shoes, and long waistcoat, but he was not the less active for all that. Leaving Grampus, who had accompanied me, with two hands in charge of the sloop, I returned with the prisoners to the frigate. The mate and men were instantly pressed, without the question being asked whether they would wish to join, and Captain Hudson ordered me to go back to the sloop, giving me leave to carry Tom Rockets, in addition to the men already on board, and to make the best of my way to Halifax. “Stay,” said he, “take the master and boy with you, Mr Hurry; we shall not know what to do with them on board—and see that he plays you no trick.” I laughed at the idea of having anything to dread from the demure Mr Scuttle, and, putting up a few necessaries, I tumbled into the boat which was to take me on board my new command. I thought I caught a twinkle in friend Jotham’s eyes when he found that he was to be sent back to his own vessel—but this was probably fancy. He sat looking very sad and downcast as we pulled on board the sloop. The crew of the boat which had brought me gave me three cheers, and Delisle, who had come in her, wished me a prosperous voyage to Halifax, from which I was about two hundred leagues distant. The frigate then hauled her wind, and I made sail to the northward. Of course I felt very grand in my new command, like Sancho Panza in his island, though it was not to last very long at the utmost; and it was not impossible that I might be summarily dispossessed of it at any moment; however, I did not trouble myself about such thoughts just then. Having taken possession of the master’s cabin, and allowed him to occupy his mate’s, I called my ship’s company together, and, having divided them into two watches, told them I expected they would do their duty and behave themselves. Nol Grampus had charge of one watch with one of the seamen and Mr Scuttle under him, and I took the other with the other seaman, Tom Rockets and the boy. Tom had not got over his innocent country look, though he was sharp enough in reality, and did his duty as a seaman very fairly. Old Grampus, who had taken a fancy to him, was always teaching him something or other likely to prove useful. “Now, Tom, you may be no wiser nor a young gull as has never learned to fly,” I heard the old man say; “but listen, my boy, if you follows my advice you’ll soon be able to spread your wings and skim over the water just for all the world like one on them big albatrosses one meets with off the Cape of Good Hope, you’ve heard speak of.” Tom had not heard of such a place, so Grampus told him all about it, and a great deal more besides. In that way my young follower picked up his sea lore. The contrast between the two was perfect. Tom’s young, smooth, innocent face, and round boyish figure, and the thorough old sea-dog look of Grampus, with his grizzly bushy hair and whiskers, his long cue, his deeply-furrowed, or I may say rather bumped and knobbed and bronzed countenance, and his spare, sinewy form, having not a particle of flesh with which he could dispense.

As Mr Jotham Scuttle’s eye fell on Tom he took him at once for a simple lad, who could readily believe anything he had to say, and he formed his plans accordingly. I got on very well with my scanty crew, for as there were winches and tackles of all sorts on board, I managed to work the vessel easily enough. We had an abundance of provisions, so that, contrasted especially with the fare to which I had for many months past been accustomed, we lived luxuriously.

The second day I invited Mr Scuttle to dine with me. The commencement of the entertainment was not very lively, for though he did not play a bad knife and fork, he uttered no sound except an occasional deep sigh from beneath the very lowest button of his waistcoat. At last, after leaning his head on his hand for some time, he looked up.

“It is very hard to be borne, mister,” he exclaimed with vehemence. “Here was I, with a fine craft I could almost call my own, and with every chance of providing for my family, and now I’m worse than a beggar—a prisoner, and forced to go I don’t know where.”

“You shouldn’t have broken the blockade, and your friends shouldn’t have rebelled and broken the laws,” said I.

“Laws!” he exclaimed with disdain, “they were bad laws, and it went against the grain of every honest man to observe them.”

“I don’t know anything about that,” I replied; “in my profession all we have to do is to obey without asking questions, and I just fancy that your people will very soon have to do the same, whether they like it or not.”

“Will they, forsooth?” he exclaimed, striking his fist on the table. “The time has passed for that. I’ll tell you what, sir, they’ll fight it out till every drop of honest blood is spilt in the country. It was the supercilious, boasting airs of your lords and aristocrats who came out among the military looking down upon all the first gentlemen in the land as provincials and colonists, as they called them in contempt, which was the real cause of the revolt. They made enemies wherever they went, with their follies and pride and haughty words. They and their government at home seemed to forget that we were Britons like themselves, with British hearts, ay, and with truer loyalty than they had for the king and the old country. What would you say, sir, if you were insulted as we have been?”

“I certainly do not like being bullied by anyone,” said I.

“No more do we colonists, sir,” answered the poor skipper. “My father, sir, came over from the old country; misfortunes compelled him to quit it, but he loved it as much as ever, and brought up me, his son, to love it also; and so I should to this day, had I, and those who had made America their own, been fairly treated—not looked upon as children to be played with, or slaves to be bullied and despised. Now, sir,” he continued, standing up and placing one hand on the table, while he extended the other, “I tell you that there are not bitterer enemies to the old country than your government have made me and many like me.”

“I am very sorry for you,” I said, seeing the justice of his remarks, “but you see I cannot help it, so just sit down and mix yourself another tumbler of grog; we can but make the best of circumstances.”

“I don’t want your pity, or that of any of the enemies of America,” he answered proudly. Then he seemed to soften, and he continued in a more subdued tone, “But you, young gentleman, seem inclined to treat me as a man should a man, and not as some of your officers have treated us provincials, so I am thankful, and if the day should come when I can return your kindness I shall be glad to do so.”

“I only hope that I may not be in your place as a prisoner,” said I.

“To be honest with you,” he replied, “if I only had the chance of taking the sloop from you, I should be right not to let it pass by, though I have no great hope that it will be offered me.”

“No, I should think not,” I answered, laughing. I have often since thought of the foolish, domineering way in which England and Englishmen treat their brethren who turn colonists, and shall not be surprised if she loses one colony after another as she was now doing her American settlements. The skipper was soon pacified, and we became very good friends. We were still talking away over our glass of grog, when Nol Grampus put his head in at the cabin-door.

“I don’t quite like the look of the weather, Mr Hurry,” said he. “I think it’s going to breeze up a bit, and the sooner we shorten sail the better.”

I jumped up and went on deck, when I saw that he was right. We accordingly at once made all snug. Thick clouds were banking up from the westward and southward, which soon rushing on like a vast army sweeping over a devoted country, deluged us with rain, bringing a heavy breeze, which kicked up no small amount of sea. The wind keeping to the southward of west we could lay our course, so on we went pitching and tumbling before it in no very pleasant manner for several days.

Fortunately the Ranger was well found in every respect, and, proving a very good sea-boat, showed that the men of Nantucket knew what was the best economy in the end. She was newly painted, and had sixteen ports, so that at a distance she had a somewhat formidable appearance; but as they had no guns to them, though she could grin, she could not even bark, much less bite. If, therefore, we fell in with an enemy I saw that, should we not be able to escape by flight, we should in all probability be captured. I had observed that my friend the skipper had been in better spirits than at first. He spoke frankly to me, as he did to the crew, and seemed to be on good terms with everybody. He was evidently a clever man—full of resources of all sorts—above his station I should say. He had been brought up as a farmer, and had never been afloat till within the last six or seven years. He was now no contemptible sailor. His next move would probably be to some totally different sphere, where he would take a step higher in the social scale. Such is the career of many a New Englander.

I had turned into my berth, after keeping the morning watch some days after this, when, as I awoke, I saw Tom Rockets moving about in the cabin.

“What do you want, Tom?” I asked.

“Hist, sir,” he whispered, “I’ve just a word to speak to you.”

“Out with it then, my man,” I said.

“It’s just about that strange skipper, sir.”

“Well, go on.”

“He’s been talking to me, and asking if I wouldn’t like to go and settle in a land of liberty, and make my fortune, and no longer be subject to be starved and flogged and ill-treated on board of a man-of-war?”

“And what did you say, Tom?” I asked.

“I told him just simply like that I belonged to you, that I would follow wheresoever you went, and that if you thought fit to go and settle in his country, I’d have no objection to go too.”

“That was right, Tom. If he speaks to you again, give him the same sort of answer. Don’t let him suppose you are offended. Has he spoken with either of the other men?”

“With all except Grampus; but I don’t think he has made much way with them. The old man, I fancy, sir, guesses what he’s after, and has his eye on him,” answered Tom.

“All right, then, my lad. Keep your eyes about you, and let me know any thing you observe, but don’t allow the skipper to find out that we suspect him.”

Tom promised to follow my directions, and I sent him on deck while I turned out and dressed. I treated Mr Scuttle just as if he were not plotting against me, for forewarned, I felt myself fore-armed, and had no fear that he could do me any harm.

That day the wind fell considerably and we again had fair weather. The next morning, while I was at breakfast, old Nol hailed down the sky-light—

“Would you just come on deck for a moment, sir?” said he.

“What is it?” I asked.

“There’s a sail away to the south-west, and I don’t quite like the looks of her,” answered the old man.

I jumped on deck in a moment. I was not long in making out a brig under all sail holding the same course we were on. As I took the glass from my eye I found Scuttle standing by my side.

“What do you think of her?” I asked.

“Maybe she’s a whaler, or maybe a sealer, or a merchantman from one of the provincial ports, or maybe a transport with British red-coats aboard; but, Mr Hurry, it requires a man with a longer sight than I’ve got to tell just now what she is,” said the skipper, in the long drawling tone of a New Englander.

I thought that there was something ironical in his tone as he spoke, and that he more than probably knew perfectly well all about the stranger.

“Whatever she may be,” I answered, “I’ll show her my heels. Make all sail, Grampus.”

“Ay, ay, sir,” he replied; and in a short time, the skipper pulling and hauling with as good a will as the rest, we had every stitch of canvas packed on the sloop which she could carry. I fancied, however, that the skipper gave a knowing look at me as he went forward, as much as to say, “You may make all the sail you like, but it won’t do.” At all events, I soon found that the Ranger, though a very good sea boat, was a tub in regard to sailing, under-rigged especially, as she was, for greater convenience in handling.

The stranger was walking up to us fast. As the morning sun fell on her sails they appeared to me very white, and to have a wide spread, and I began to hope that she might prove an English man-of-war brig. Another two hours, however, banished any such hopes, and I was convinced, on looking at Jotham Scuttle’s countenance, that she was likely to prove his friend, but my enemy.

“What do you think of her now, Mr Scuttle?” I asked.

“She’s a brig,” he answered innocently.

“Anyone can see that with half an eye,” said I; “but what is she? Where does she hail from?”

“Well, then, maybe she hails from a provincial port,” he answered slowly. “I should not be very much surprised, too, if she carries guns.”

“A rebel privateer or pirate, in fact,” said I.

“An American privateer, if you please, sir, I have no doubt she is,” he replied; “in two or three hours, I guess, you will find it safer to call her so, at all events.”

“Well, well, we will see about that,” I remarked, laughing at his coolness, though I began to entertain no slight apprehension that I was about to lose my prize and to become a prisoner into the bargain.

“They’ve got their new-fangled flag a-flying from their peak, sir,” said Grampus, stepping up.

On looking through my glass I made out the star-and-stripe covered ensign, just then begun to be carried by provincial vessels, flying out proudly from her gaff end; while several ports at her side left me no longer in doubt that she was an enemy most devoutly to be wished away. Do everything I could, however, to increase the speed of the Ranger, she rapidly came up with us. Still it was not in my nature to give in while a chance remained of escape. Some man-of-war might heave in sight, or some other craft the privateer might think more worthy of chasing; or we might keep ahead till darkness came to my help. The chances were, however, very small in my favour, and Mr Scuttle could not help showing his satisfaction at the prospect of the probable change in our fortunes. I went aloft and swept the horizon with my glass in every direction, but not a sail appeared in sight. The breeze held steady, and indeed seemed rather inclined to increase than fall. My heart sank lower than it had ever done before. In another hour my people and I would be prisoners, and Mr Jotham Scuttle would be offering me his commiseration. He was speaking to my two men; doubtless telling them they had nothing to fear. I felt a very strong inclination at the moment to pitch him overboard; I wanted some one on whom to vent my vexation. Poor man! however, there was in reality much to admire in him. In another half hour the game would be up. Suddenly a bright idea occurred to me. I had often seen a poor silly creature followed by a troop of urchins hallooing at his heels and mocking him with their thoughtless jests, when he would turn round with clenched fists and grinning lips, and they would take to an ignominious flight. I would try the effect of a similar trick. Descending on deck, I ordered Grampus to get lines fastened to all the ports, so that they might be lifted at once. As soon as the arrangement was made I put the sloop about, and at the same moment, suddenly lifting all our ports—of which, as I have said, we had eight on a side—under all sail, I stood boldly down towards the enemy. Still she stood on, and my heart began to quake for the success of my manoeuvre.

“It can’t be helped, sir, I fear,” said Grampus. “We are in for it.”

“No, no,” I exclaimed, with a shout of joy. “It’s all right. Hurrah, my lads!” The brig had taken in her studden-sails and was standing away from us, close-hauled on a wind. I was so eagerly watching her that I did not see what had become of friend Scuttle. I was aroused by a cry from Tom Rockets.

“Just you come down, master!” he exclaimed.

I looked up and caught sight of the skipper and his boy going aloft with knives in their hands. Their intention was obvious. It was to cut the halliards, and by letting the sails come down by the run, call the attention of the brig to our true condition, and thus bring her back to our capture. Tom had got hold of the boy’s leg, and I thought would have jerked him overboard. Grampus in a moment was after the master, and before he had reached the cross-trees had hold of him, and, wrenching the knife from his hand, had hove it overboard. Whatever were the thoughts and intentions of my two other men, they did not show any inclination to side with the skipper. He began to show fight and to kick and struggle not a little, but Grampus had held on with his teeth in too many a gale while close-reefing top-sails, not to be able to gain the mastery. With threats and very significant signs that he would heave him overboard, he at length forced him down on deck.

“Now,” said I, “Mr Scuttle, I should be justified in pistolling you on the spot for the pretty trick you purposed playing me. But I will not injure you. You gave me warning, I remember, what you would do, so, as I believe you to be a man of honour, pass me your word that you will attempt no further treachery and I will not injure you. Otherwise, for my own safety, I must clap you in limbo, and shoot you the moment I find you again at any such game.”

“It’s very, very hard,” he answered, folding his arms on his bosom and looking wistfully at the brig, which still held her course away from us, “to have thought that I should get back my vessel and see my family again in a few days perhaps, and now to have all my hopes rudely swept away from me! It’s hard—very, very hard!”

I really pitied the poor man and would on no account have injured him, could I have avoided it.

“Well, Mr Hurry, luck’s against me,” he said at length. “In all things regarding the navigation of the vessel, I’ll obey you faithfully till we reach Halifax. Then you have nothing more to fear from me.”

I was sure that I could trust him. “Then,” said I, “go about your duty, and I will take no notice of what has passed.”

Grampus, Tom, and I cheered lustily as we saw the brig continuing to stand away from us, and the men joined us, though I suspect the fellows did not care much about the matter. It was getting towards evening. I longed for darkness, for I never felt so anxious in my life. I was afraid every moment that the people of the brig might gain courage and turn round upon us. If so, we should be worse off than ever, as we should not have a chance of escaping. Friend Scuttle eyed the brig as anxiously as I did, though with very different wishes. Still we held on, looking, I doubt not, very fierce, and the privateer’s men must have been no less anxious to get away from us than we were from them. At length evening approached, and never did I see the sun set with so much satisfaction. Gradually the shades of night crept over the ocean, and I drew a long breath as the brig was lost to our sight in the thickening gloom. As soon as I was certain that we could not possibly be seen, I ordered the sloop to be kept away, and once more made all sail to the northward, altering my course a few points from that I had been steering when first seen by the brig, lest she should by any chance be looking after us in the morning. Probably the privateer’s men were congratulating themselves at thus easily escaping from us. As I gave vent to my feelings in a hearty cheer the poor skipper exhibited his in a deep groan, and then, having assisted in making sail, turned in to try and forget his sorrows in sleep. The weather continued fine till the 7th of the month, when I made the land about five leagues to the westward of Halifax harbour. Soon after this the wind fell and we had a stark calm. By Mr Scuttle’s advice I fitted a couple of fishing-lines, and in the course of an hour, with those two lines alone, caught one hundred and twenty-four very fine cod. They proved a welcome addition to our usual salt-meat fare. Those we could not eat fresh we split open and dried in the sun, and they thus served us for food for several days.

“What do you think of the weather now, Grampus?” said I, after we had been fishing for some time.

“I don’t like its looks at all, sir,” he replied. “This is a ticklish coast at all times, and one never knows what’s coming.”

“If you had asked me, I could have told you that we are going to have wind, and fully enough of it,” observed Mr Scuttle.

He had got into a mighty free-and-easy style of talking of late. He was perfectly right, though in addition to the wind, which sprung up immediately afterwards, we got a thick fog, which totally obscured the land. I steered a course, however, which I hoped would carry us to the harbour’s mouth. We ran on for some time and then hove-to, that we might sound. We had still plenty of water, so I stood on again. At last the fog lifted a little, when to my very great disgust I found that we had run three leagues past the mouth of the harbour. We endeavoured to tack back, but before morning a heavy gale of wind sprung up directly off shore. It was impossible to beat up against it, so I stood to the eastward all that day and night, under a try-sail and storm-jib. During this time the gale showed no signs of abating. It was a good trial to our tempers, at all events. Grampus vowed that there was some old witch in Halifax who must have taken a spite to us and was resolved to keep us out of the harbour as long as she could. He was devising all sorts of plans for exorcising her, but none seemed likely to prove satisfactory. In the morning, the weather moderating a little, I stood to the westward under close-reefed mainsail and double-reefed foresail, and by the evening reached at length the mouth of the harbour. “There’s many a slip between the cup and the lip.” We were congratulating ourselves on getting all snug at night, when once more the wind breezed up with a thickish fog, and as we were then in only forty fathoms of water I was obliged again to run to sea. The bad weather kept me, as well as all the people, on deck, for not knowing what might occur no one could venture to go below. Some time before daylight I once more hauled my wind and beat up towards the land. By the evening of the 10th we were again in with Jabucta Head. We then got soundings on a reef of rocks in eight fathoms water, but so worn out was I and everybody on board that I ordered the anchor to be let go, that we might turn in and get some rest. I fully expected to lose my anchor and cable, but when I came to weigh at daylight the next morning I was fortunate enough to save them both. I now fully expected to get safe into harbour, but as I was standing up Major’s Reach I saw a Falmouth packet coming down. The temptation of speaking her and sending a message home was too great to be resisted, so I stood over towards her. As the sloop was going about she missed stays near a dangerous reef, and to prevent her driving on the rocks it was necessary to be quick in wearing. In doing this the boom came over with the whole main-sheet eased off, and carried it away in six different places. This accident compelled me to run from the narrow channel and lost me the opportunity of speaking the packet. Once more making sail, and the wind favouring me, I got as high as George’s Island, when a sudden squall split my mainsail. This compelled me to bring up. Manning a boat, I pulled up to Halifax to look out for the prize agent, into whose hands I was to deliver the sloop.

I parted on the best of terms with Mr Jotham Scuttle. He hoped to find some friends in Halifax who would advance him money to enable him to buy back the Ranger.

“If ever you come to Nantucket,” said he, “ask for me, and if I’m on shore there’s no one will give you a more hearty welcome.”

I promised that I would not forget his kind invitation, and, after a hearty shaking of hands, I saw no more of him.

I found the whole town in a state of great commotion, as the immense fleet there collected, of men-of-war and transports, with a large army on board, were on the point of sailing, it was said, on an expedition which would effectually crush the rebels and bring the American provinces once more into complete subjection. That I might not be left behind I immediately reported myself to my Lord Shouldham. His lordship ordered me at once to come on board the Chatham, with my people. I very speedily returned to the Ranger and again got back to the Chatham. I was, however, rather ashamed of my outfit, as it was not very appropriate to the atmosphere of a flag-ship, consisting, as it did, of one old uniform suit, four shirts, and a very few etceteras.

The fleet, I found, was bound for the projected attack on New York. It consisted of his Majesty’s ships Chatham, Rear-Admiral Shouldham, of the White—she had on board General Lord Percy, General Pigot, and other officers of rank—the Centurion, the Greyhound, which had on board General Sir William Howe, the Commander-in-Chief, and brother to Admiral Lord Howe, the Rose, Senegal, and Merlin, sloops of war, and nearly two hundred sail of transports.

Two hours after I got on board the whole fleet of men-of-war and transports made sail for their destination. It was understood that we were to be joined at New York by Admiral Lord Howe, who was on his way out from England. He was to take command of the fleet, while his brother, the general, had command of the army. The two together were to act as commissioners to treat with the rebels, and, by showing them the overpowering force marshalled against them, to endeavour to bring them to terms. Although the rebels had been for so long able successfully to set the king’s forces at defiance, there were a considerable number of people throughout the country who still remained loyal to their sovereign, known generally under the designation of Tories, and it was supposed that they would materially aid both in putting down the rebellion and in winning back the inhabitants to their allegiance. The rebel army, under the immediate command of General Washington, held New York and Long Island opposite to it, as well as the adjacent country. I believe I knew the particulars I speak of at the time: if not I learnt them soon afterwards.

Note 1. Father of the late Admiral Sir William Symonds, and of the late Admiral Thomas Symonds.

Note 2. General Howe was the brother of Admiral Lord Howe.

Chapter Four.

The fleet at sea.—Troops landed.—All hope of peace abandoned.—Spies executed.—Boats sent to watch fire-ships.—Rejoin Orpheus.—Land masters of merchantmen.—Fall in with rebel regiment.—Attack fort on Sullivan’s Island.—Heavy loss.—Witness attack on Brooklyn.—Dreadful slaughter.—Run past batteries in East River.—Trying time.—Death of an old friend.—Ships cannonaded.

Far as the eye could reach the white sails of the men-of-war and transports dotted the blue waters of the Atlantic, as with a light though favourable breeze the fleet steered a course for New York. We might have been excused, as we scanned with pride the vast armament—the ships, their crews, and the troops in prime order and amply supplied with all the munitions of war, under the command of the most experienced leaders England could send forth—if we believed firmly that victory was destined to sit proudly on our standards. Here and there a man-of-war might be seen in the far distance, like a sheep-dog on the heels of the flock, firing a gun now, on this side now on that, to hint to any laggers along the transports to make more sail, but generally the fleet kept well together. On the 13th the Greyhound, with General Howe on board, parted company, to hasten on, it was supposed, to make arrangements with Governor Tryon and other royalists in the neighbourhood of New York about the landing the troops, and did not return to the fleet. It was not till the 2nd, after a prosperous voyage, that we reached Sandy Hook, at the mouth of Baritan Day, to the southward of the narrow entrance of New York harbour, where we found at anchor his Majesty’s ship Phoenix and several sail of merchantmen. At noon on the 4th the signal was given for the whole fleet to weigh. It was a beautiful sight. The sky was blue, the sun bright, and the water calm and clear. To the southward, across the yellow glittering shore of Sandy Hook, arose the bold highlands of Neversink; on the larboard bow was Staten Island, with green fields, feathery woods, and sloping hills, sprinkled with numerous country houses and villas, built mostly by the old Dutch settlers, peeping from among the trees. Ahead were the Narrows—such is the appropriate name given to the channel leading to New York—while more to the right stretched away, till lost in distance to the north-east, the low sandy coast of Long Island, with a fringe of dark forest appearing on the summit of its centre ridge like the bristles on the back of a wild boar. The Chatham was the first ship to make sail, and the master received orders to steer through the rest of the fleet. It was truly a fine sight, as the admiral and the generals, with their brilliant staffs in rich uniforms, and the officers of the ships stood crowding on the decks, with bands playing joyous and inspiriting tunes while we sailed onward, the crews and troops on board that numerous squadron cheering lustily, their hearts beating with martial ardour under the belief that we were advancing to the immediate attack and certain conquest of New York. All necessary preparations were made on our passage up for landing, but as we approached the entrance of the harbour some change seemed to be contemplated in the arrangements, and at sunset, instead of entering the Narrows, the signal was made for the fleet to anchor in Gravesend Day at the south-west end of Long Island. I was anxious to fall in with the Orpheus, once more to get on board her, for with my scanty stock of clothing I was far from comfortable in the flag-ship. She was, however, away on a cruise and might not possibly return for some time. However, I thereby saw and heard more of the general proceedings than I should otherwise have done. We learned soon afterwards that on this very day, the 4th of July, 1776, thirteen British colonies in America had declared themselves free and independent States, abjuring all allegiance to the British Crown, and renouncing all political connexion with the mother country. This declaration was issued by the celebrated Congress, organised by Dr Franklin and other provincial leaders, consisting of representatives from the above-mentioned States who assembled at Philadelphia. The resolution was passed on the 2nd, but it was not till the day I speak of, the 4th, that the document entitled the Declaration of Independence was adopted by the Congress and published to the people. It was the fatal blow which severed for ever that vast territory from Great Britain. The reasons for our anchoring and the troops not being landed were known only to the commanders-in-chief.

At daylight on the 5th the signal was made for the whole fleet to weigh. At this time, it must be understood, the rebels held the shore of Long Island on our starboard hand in considerable force, and there were bodies of them on Staten Island on the larboard hand, which forms the southern side of the harbour. It was a fine sight to see the fleet, the Phoenix, Rose, and Senegal leading, standing for the channel of the Narrows; but our hopes of entering into action were again disappointed in consequence of the wind falling away and compelling us to anchor. At four o’clock in the afternoon, however, once more the signal was made to weigh, the flat-bottomed boats destined to land the troops were manned, and in the same order as before we proceeded onwards. The moment we entered the Narrows the rebels opened fire on us from field-pieces and small arms, but without doing us much injury, but very few men on board any of the ships being killed. By seven o’clock we had dropped anchor close in with the north shore of Staten Island, and were actively engaged in landing the troops. So rapid and unexpected had been our movements at the last that a body of the enemy, to the number of nearly three hundred men, were unable to escape and were taken prisoners by the first division of Grenadiers who landed. The army at once encamped, and it was difficult to say what great movement would next take place. We found ourselves, however, at once engaged in active warfare on a small scale, for the enemy were by no means idle and the troops had frequent skirmishes with them. The navy also had work enough to do, and of a very harassing nature. Frequently I had to spend the whole of the night in a guard-boat keeping watch on the movements of the enemy, especially looking out for the approach of fire-ships, which, it was reported, they were about to send down in the hopes of destroying the fleet. In the day-time we were employed in carrying about troops and throwing them on shore in different directions, to harass and distract the enemy, so that they might be less prepared when the real attack upon them was made. On the 12th of July the signal was made for the Phoenix, Rose, and Tryall to get under weigh, and the wind being favourable, they stood up boldly towards the mouth of the Hudson. It was an exploit of no slight danger and difficulty, and was watched by all on board the fleet with breathless interest. As they got within reach the batteries of Red Hook, Powles Hook, and the garrison of New York opened an incessant and heavy fire on them, which was warmly returned by the ships. General Washington and his army must have looked with no little vexation, if not dismay, on the success of the attempt, as it exposed the shores of the Hudson at unexpected points to our attacks, and Captain Wallace of the Rose was well known for the annoyance he had been causing the inhabitants of the New England coast since the commencement of the outbreak.

On the day of this occurrence a salute from each of the ships-of-war gave notice that Lord Viscount Howe had arrived. He superseded Lord Shouldham as commander-in-chief. He had come out from England expecting to join his brother, the general, at Halifax, but finding that he had sailed from thence had followed him here. At first it was supposed that warlike operations would be pushed on with vigour, but soon it was reported that conciliatory measures were to be the order of the day, and the general and admiral lost no time in communicating with General Washington, Dr Franklin, and other leaders of the rebels, in the hopes of bringing them to terms.

Officers were sent with flags of truce, who were met by the Americans each time in a barge half-way between Governor’s Island and Staten Island. Governor’s Island is a small island in the centre of the channel between Brooklyn and New York. They were conducted with every mark of courtesy to the American generals, but the rebels had already committed themselves too far to allow them to accept of any terms the British Commissioners had it in their power to offer. The Declaration of Independence had for ever, indeed, cut the last link which bound the colonies to England, and though henceforward they might be reconciled, it was clear that it must be in the character of separate States. It was reported on board that the admiral had addressed a letter to General Washington as simply to George Washington, Esquire, and that the American commander-in-chief refused to receive it, on the ground that he was at the head of a regularly constituted army and could only receive communications under his proper title of general. Those who knew General Washington, as I afterwards had the means of doing, were aware that this was not owing to pride or ostentation, but from the importance in the critical position in which he was placed of keeping up his character and of asserting the legality of the cause in which he was engaged. Whatever might have been then said of that truly great man, ample justice will be done him in after ages, I am sure, among all ranks and classes of opinion. However, as I do not profess to write a history of the events of the war or of the public characters engaged in it, I will return to my own private journal.

The Americans had for some time past, as I have mentioned, been preparing fire-ships. This we knew from our spies. We had a number of them on shore, or rather, there were a number of royalists who, having no wish to join the rebellion, were ready by every means in their power to aid in putting it down. A considerable number of these had been removed by the rebel authorities, both from Long Island and the adjacent districts, into the interior. Many were imprisoned, and some few who had been discovered communicating with our party were executed as spies. Even among the very men who were about Washington himself some were found not true to him, and it was reported that plots had been laid, if not against his life, at all events against his liberty, so that it would not have surprised us had he been brought on board a prisoner. But to return to the subject of the fire-ships. On the night of the 10th of August I had been put in charge of one of the squadron of boats always held in readiness to repel any attack from those dangerous engines of warfare. It had just gone four-bells in the first watch, the night was cloudy though it was calm and sultry, when the Eagle, Captain Duncan, made the signal that the enemy’s fire-ships were approaching. The officer in command of our boat squadron repeated the signal. “Give way, my lads, give way?” he shouted, and away we all pulled up the harbour. It was necessary to be silent and cautious in the extreme, however, as soon as we had quitted the fleet. We made the best of our way, for time might be of importance. The night was very dark, the water was smooth and the foam which bubbled up at our bows of the boats and fell in showers from the blades of our oars sparkled brilliantly, as if composed of grains of burnished gold.

Ahead of us lay the devoted city against which our arms were soon to be turned, and from whose neighbourhood we expected every instant to see the fire-ships issue forth. At length the order was passed from boat to boat that we should lay on our oars to await the expected event. Hour after hour, however, went by. Now there was an alarm that some dark bodies were seen moving down towards us, but no vessels made their appearance, and at last the near approach of dawn warned us that it was time to pull back to our ships to escape an attack by the enemy. We of course kept a look-out astern, to be certain that the fire-ships were not following us, and then lay on our oars again in the neighbourhood of the fleet. Either the alarm was a false one or the rebels, aware of our preparations, saw that it would be useless to send out the fire-ships.

This was the last night I was thus engaged, for on the 13th of August, to my very great satisfaction, my eyes fell on the Orpheus standing up the harbour and taking up her berth among the fleet. I did not, however, get my discharge from the Chatham till the following day, when, accompanied by old Grampus, Tom Rockets, and my two other men, I lost no time in pulling on board, after an absence of ten weeks. I was warmly greeted by my messmates, and we each had our adventures to recount. She had taken seven prizes, most of which she brought in with her. Poor Lee, the surgeon’s second mate, was, they told me, at the point of death. His constitution was unfit to cope with the hard life to which he was exposed in the navy. He died soon afterwards, and on the morning of the 16th we carried him on shore on Staten Island, where he rests in an unknown grave in the land of the stranger.

The same day we sailed and steered a course for Cape May, with, the intention of proceeding up the Delaware river to Philadelphia. My account of the way in which I had frightened off the privateer highly delighted my shipmates, and Captain Hudson was pleased to approve of my conduct. We had on board forty masters of merchantmen which had been captured by the different ships-of-war. They were mostly very decent men, some of them not unlike my friend Mr Scuttle. We treated them with every kindness and attention in our power. On the 24th we arrived off Cape Henlopen, opposite Cape May, at the entrance of Delaware Bay. Here we hove-to, and Captain Hudson ordered me to go on shore with a flag of truce, to land the masters of the merchantmen.

As we neared the shore I observed a body of men drawn up as if prepared to receive me. They were military, but had it not been for fear of hurting the feelings of the people who were with me, I could have thrown myself back in the stern sheets and enjoyed a hearty fit of laughter. Not two were armed or dressed alike. Some had high-boots, others shoes, many had on moccasins, and not a few jack-boots; several had their legs encased in hay-bands; hats of all shapes and sizes graced their heads. Cocked hats and round hats and caps, and Spanish hats, and helmets even were not uncommon. Some wore breeches of truly Dutch build, others of as scanty dimensions as could cover them—some had trousers, and others scarcely any covering to that portion of their persons. Their coats were of every colour, shape, and size. Green and blue and brown and grey; some were of red, though not a little soiled, being evidently of ancient date, while there were long coats and great coats and short coats and spencers and cloaks; indeed, every species of covering invented to hide the nakedness of the human body. While the men themselves were tall and short and thin and stout and straight and crooked. No one had been refused admission into the corps. Their arms were as various in construction as their costumes. There were muskets and rifles and pikes and matchlocks, and pistols which had been used at Culloden, and some even, I fancy, in the civil war of the Commonwealth, while a few even had contented themselves with pitchforks, scythes, and reaping-hooks. The officers were as independent as to uniformity as the men, and not less picturesque, though more comfortably dressed. Each man had exercised his own taste in his endeavour to give himself a military appearance, though I must say they had most lamentably failed in the result. I honestly confess, as I was speaking to them, that I was forcibly reminded of the appearance my old shipmates and I cut when we first presented ourselves on board the Torbay at the commencement of my naval career.

My orders were to land the prisoners and to return to the ship as soon as possible. I had therefore time only to exchange a few words with the officers, who were inclined to be very civil, and when the masters of the vessels told them how they had been treated on board the Orpheus they were still more disposed to be friendly. At that time the bitter feeling against Great Britain, which it must be owned she brought on herself by her injustice and dictatorial conduct, had not then been so universally stirred up.

“Now, my lads,” shouted the commander of the party as I was stepping into my boat, “that young officer is a good fellow so let us give him three cheers.”

“Hip, hip, hip, hurrah!” broke from the throats of all the regiment in good hearty style.

I turned round as I was shoving off and bowed and waved my hat, and I parted on the most amiable terms from those heroes, so like the ragged regiment headed by the redoubtable Sir John Falstaff.

We had great fun on board as I described them—Frank Mercer alone looked grave.

“Does it not strike you,” said he, “that the very fact of the want of uniformity in their outward man shows the unanimity of sentiment which pervades them and makes them flock round the standard of liberty to defend their rights as freemen, regardless of outward appearance? Those poor fellows, though doubtless very inferior to regular troops, would not shed their blood less willingly or behave less bravely in the face of an enemy.”

“Oh, you are a rebel, Mercer, you are a rebel!” we all shouted; “don’t talk treason here.”

“I only talk truth,” answered Mercer gravely.

Since then I have been much inclined to agree with him.

We had a speedy voyage back, without taking a prize, and reached New York harbour on the 27th of August. A considerable number of ships-of-war and transports had arrived during our absence, having on board large reinforcements. Among them were a large body of Hessian troops, who had been hired from the Landgrave of Hesse-Cassel and the Duke of Brunswick, especially to put down the American rebellion. They were well disciplined, but fierce, ruthless troops, who murdered and plundered without hesitation whenever they had the opportunity, and were naturally dreaded and hated by the enemy. Besides the troops which had come from Europe, a large body of men had arrived from the South, under the command of Sir Henry Clinton, who, in conjunction with Sir Peter Parker, had retired from an unsuccessful attempt to capture Charleston, in South Carolina, which, after the evacuation of Boston, it was considered important to occupy. I afterwards served under Sir Peter Parker and heard all the particulars, some of which I now introduce to make my brief account of the contest more complete.

At the entrance of Charleston harbour, on the right hand, is Sullivan’s Island, about six miles below the city. To the east of Sullivan’s Island is Long Island, from which it is separated by a creek called the Breach. On the south-west point of Sullivan’s Island was a strong fort, though composed only of earth and palmetto wood. As palmetto wood is soft and does not splinter, it was especially suited for the purpose. The squadron, under Sir Peter Parker, consisted of the Bristol, Experiment, Active, Solebay, Actaeon, Syren, and other smaller craft. While Sir Henry Clinton landed his troops on Long Island Sir Peter undertook to attack the fort, which was commanded by Colonel Moultrie. General Lee, however, with a large force, had by rapid marches advanced to the protection of the city. The Thunder-bomb began the action, during which the Sphinx, Syren, and Actaeon ran foul of each other and got on shore. The two first hauled off, but the Actaeon remained, and was ultimately abandoned and burned. The fire was most tremendous and deadly on both sides, but the British suffered the most; indeed, seldom have ships been exposed to a more terrific battering, or stood it with greater heroism and perseverance. On board that small squadron there were no less than sixty-four men killed and one hundred and forty-three wounded. At one time on the deck of the Bristol Sir Peter himself, amidst the deadly shower, alone stood unhurt. Captain Morris, of the Actaeon, was killed, as was Lord Campbell, late governor of the province, serving as a volunteer on board. Captain Scott, of the Experiment, lost his arm. The Bristol was completely unrigged; her guns were dismounted and her top-masts shot away. In vain Sir Peter looked for the assistance he expected from Sir Henry. Each time the troops attempted to cross from Long Island they were foiled by the bold front presented by a body of Americans with artillery. At length, the carnage growing more appalling than ever, and their hope of success diminishing, Sir Peter ordered them to make their way out of action. This event took place on the 28th of June. Other unsuccessful attempts were made to capture the fort, and in a few days the troops were re-embarked and the squadron came northward. I did not hear that the Phoenix, Rose, and Tryall did much execution up the Hudson. They had some encounters with the enemy’s row-boats and exchanged shots occasionally with the troops on shore; while they had constantly to be on the watch at night to prevent the attack of fire-ships; but their chief object was evidently to survey the river, to enable the fleet to proceed upwards if necessary. As the river is very broad, in many places expanding into almost lakes, they were able to anchor at all times out of gun shot distance. Having accomplished their object, they left the river on the 18th, exchanging a brisk fire with the forts in their passage.

I must now give a sketch of one of the most sanguinary encounters it has ever been my lot to witness, and which, had we arrived a day later, I should have missed seeing.

People in England were apt to fancy that the rebels were officered by a set of planters or merchants, and to treat them accordingly with superciliousness and contempt, instead of which, besides General Washington, there were many who had been engaged from their youth upward in border warfare, not only with Indians, but with the disciplined troops of France. Many had aided in the conquest of Canada, while others had served in the armies of England and other European powers, and had experience equal to those to whom they were opposed, wanting only titular or official rank; while all were better acquainted with the country and were animated with the warmest patriotism and belief in the justice of their cause. Their great deficiency was in the discipline of their men, who, though not wanting in bravery, had but little discretion and no experience in general, while the subaltern officers were destitute also of the same necessary qualities. Some of their regiments, however, had been brought into very fair discipline, and were well officered. The great fault of the British, I must remark, as I shall have frequently to do, was over-confidence and a contempt of the foe with whom they were contending. On the present occasion, however, no imputation of that sort could be cast on the British commanders. The main body of the Americans were entrenched in a strong position at Brooklyn, at the end of Long Island, directly opposite New York, from which it is divided by a strait about three quarters of a mile in width, called East River. Directly down the centre of the island is a ridge of rocky hills, covered with wood. Across these hills were three roads leading from the side of the island, opposite Staten Island, where our troops would naturally land. These three passes were held by different bodies of American troops. The whole American force was under the command of General Putnam, though it was said Washington himself frequently crossed from New York to aid in the defence of the position. Previous to the 27th a large portion of our army, including two brigades of Hessians, had crossed over from Staten Island, and, landing between Gravesend and Flatland, some of them encamped in that neighbourhood, while the Hessians pushed on to a place called Flatbush. On the evening of the 26th the whole army advanced, Sir Henry Clinton leading the light infantry, Lord Percy following with the grenadiers, flying artillery, and light dragoons, while Lord Cornwallis, accompanied by Lord Howe, brought up the rear-guard with the heavy ordnance. About two hours before daybreak they arrived at the neighbourhood of the hills, when they discovered that the pass to the east, called the Bedford Pass, was unoccupied. He at once led his division through it, and thus turned the left of the American position. In the meantime General Grant had advanced with another division from Gravesend past Gowanus Cowe, on the road by the Narrows towards the right of the American position. As soon as it was daylight he formed his troops directly opposite the enemy, where he waited to hear that Sir Henry had commenced the attack. General De Heister, who commanded the Hessians, had kept up a hot fire with his artillery on a redoubt in front of the lines from his camp at Flatbush, which he ultimately stormed, while Lord Cornwallis, advancing on the centre, was bravely opposed by Lord Stirling who had taken up arms on the side of the Americans. One of our ships was all the time discharging a heavy cannonade on the battery at Red Hook, near which we also were brought up to join in the action had it been necessary, and whence from the maintop, where I with others had gone, I had a tolerably perfect view of many of the proceedings. Hemmed in on all sides, as I have described, and pressed on by overwhelming numbers of disciplined troops, the Americans, after a desperate and brave resistance, at length gave way, and then commenced a most indiscriminate and dreadful slaughter. They were cut down and trampled on by the cavalry, bayoneted by the savage Hessians, and torn in pieces by the artillery. Some rallied for a time and defended themselves with their rifles, behind rocks and trees, and at length, by a desperate effort, cut their way through their foes to the lines. Lord Stirling, who had fought bravely throughout the day, surrendered himself as a prisoner to General De Heister, two hundred and fifty of the brave fellows he had led lying dead around him. General Sullivan and several other officers were taken, endeavouring to cover the retreat of their troops. The enemy in all lost in killed alone full fifteen hundred men besides others who were smothered in the mud as they were endeavouring to escape from the Hessian bayonets. These, with wounded and prisoners, made up their loss to nearly three thousand men out of scarcely more than five thousand engaged.

It is a dreadful sight to witness slaughter such as this was, when one’s blood is cold and one sits a mere spectator of the fight. I felt all the time more inclined to side with the poor Americans as they were flying from our victorious troops than to wish for the success of the latter. I heard a deep groan near me as I was seated in the maintop. I looked round. It was Frank Mercer. He was as pale as death. I thought he would have fallen on deck. At times he would shade his eyes with his hand, and then again he would gaze earnestly at the dreadful sight as if unable to resist its horrid fascination. Of course I have not described half the events of the day.

The Americans retreated within their lines and the British troops advanced close up to them. It was supposed that General Howe would give the order to storm the works. Had he done so at once they would certainly have been taken, and though with some considerable loss of life, it might have prevented much subsequent greater loss. However, it appeared that he had resolved to attack the lines by regular approaches. General Washington, seeing the inevitable result, made a masterly retreat with the whole garrison across the sound to New York during the night, favoured by calm weather and a thick fog. Notice was brought in the morning to General Howe of what had occurred, and when one of his aides-de-camp, who was sent to ascertain the fact, climbed over the crest of the works he found them of a truth deserted. The next day no less than thirteen hundred Americans were buried in one large pit, while many more had been lost in the creek and swamp near the lines.

It was the general opinion, both in the camp and fleet, that had the army at once been pushed forward, a speedy and happy conclusion would have been brought to the war. There were all sorts of reports current. Among them it was said that the city was about to be abandoned and burnt to the ground, to prevent our troops occupying it for the winter. This proceeding, however, the inhabitants strongly opposed, as all their property would thereby have been destroyed. I must not delay the progress of my narrative to mention the various reports of all sorts which were flying about.

On the 30th we again put to sea, Captain Hudson having under his command the Niger and Greyhound frigates. We cruised off Sandy Hook without meeting with any occurrence worth noting till the 3rd of September, when we returned to Sandy Hook. Here we received orders once more to proceed to sea, to look out for a fleet of transports, with a division of Hessians on board, daily expected from Europe, under convoy of the Repulse. We fortunately fell in with them on the following morning, and returned in their company to Gravesend Day.

On the 8th we moved up to Staten Island, and we began to hope that we at length might be engaged in some more active service than we had hitherto seen.

“Have you heard the news?” exclaimed Delisle two days afterwards, as I came on deck for the first time that morning.

I inquired what it was.

“We are to move up at once opposite New York and to prepare the ship for running past the batteries up the East River.”

“Hurra! the hotter the better; anything better than stagnation!” I exclaimed.

“Mercer, have you made your will?” asked Kennedy, as the two met each other near us.

“Yes, Kennedy, I have,” answered Mercer gravely. “It may not be to-day or to-morrow that it will come into force, but it may before long, and I wish that those I may not help living may benefit by my death.”

Kennedy had nothing to reply to this; Mercer’s solemn manner silenced him.

“What does Mercer mean? Does he think he is going to be killed?” asked little Harry Sumner, who was standing by.

“It may be the lot of anyone of us, my boy,” said I. “Though I hope the enemy’s shot won’t find you out at all events.”

“I hope not indeed,” replied Harry. “I should like to go home and describe all the places I have seen and the things we have done.”

As I looked at our young pet I felt how hard a thing it was that so small a lad should be exposed to all the vicissitudes of warfare.

Macallan had overheard us. “It’s my opinion that Mercer has seen his wraith,” he remarked sententiously. “There’s a grave, dour look about his pale countenance which a man who is long for this world never wears.”

We all agreed that there was too much truth about the doctor’s observation, though we trusted he might be mistaken. I have heard many conversations of this sort, and many of my shipmates and others whom I have known have had presentiments of their approaching death. Some have been killed on the occasion they expected, while others who appeared equally certain of being summoned away have come out of action without scratch. Others, again, whom I have seen laughing and jesting as if they had a long lease of life before them, have, within a few hours perhaps, been stretched lifeless on the deck. I have come to the conclusion, therefore, that no one can tell when his last moment is to come, and that consequently it behoves us all to be prepared at all times for that unavoidable occurrence.

Among the ships lying near us was the Roebuck, of 44 guns, commanded by Captain Andrew Snape Hamond, (note 1), a very active and intelligent officer. I knew several of her officers. Among them was an old friend of mine, Hitchcock, belonging to Falmouth. I dined with him a day or two after this, and in return invited him to dine with me on board the Orpheus.

“I’ll come,” said he; “depend upon me, I’ll not let the rebels stop me.”

“I shall keep you to your promise,” I replied, as I was shoving off.

We had prepared the ship for action for some days by clearing away all bulkheads fore and aft, and sending everything not absolutely required below. Still several days passed by and nothing was done. It was understood that Lord Howe and Dr Franklin were negotiating at this time, as the result proved, without any effect. Lord Howe to the last was anxious to prevent more bloodshed, and hoped to bring the colonists to terms, but as they now considered themselves an independent people, and he had the authority to treat with them in that capacity, he was powerless.

At length, on the 21st of September, towards three o’clock in the afternoon, the admiral made the signal for us to weigh. Each man with alacrity hurried to his quarters. Never was sail more speedily got on the ship. The Phoenix, Roebuck, Carrisfort, and Rose were seen spreading their canvas at the same time to a very light air which blew from the westward. I must try and describe the scene of our operations. Before us lay a long, narrow strip of land called Manhattan Island, about thirteen miles long and from half a mile to two wide, on the south end of which stands the City of New York, while on the north end are some hills called the Harlem Heights. It is divided from the mainland on the north by a creek called the Harlem River, over which there is a bridge called King’s Bridge. The west of Manhattan Island is washed by the River Hudson, which separates it from the New Jersey shore, while part of the Sound, which is called the East River, runs round it on the south and east, dividing it from Long Island, till it is joined by the Harlem River on the north. The Harlem River forms a direct communication between the Hudson and East River. That part of it nearest the Hudson was called by the Dutch Spuyten Duyvel Creek, while the east end, where it joins East River, has the still less pleasant sounding name of Hell Gate. Near it was a strong battery. Nearly in the centre of East River, opposite the south point of New York, is Governor’s Island, which was strongly fortified. There were batteries along the whole line of the shore on Manhattan Island. Slowly and solemnly our squadron approached the shore. Perfect silence reigned throughout the ship. For some time not a shot was fired. Captain Hudson had been keeping a sharp look-out on the enemy’s batteries as we approached.

“Pass the word along the decks that every man and officer is to lie down at his quarters!” he exclaimed.

The judicious order was at once obeyed. The same precaution was not used by the other ships. At half-past three, when we were within pistol-shot of the city, the enemy opened their fire. We were so close and moved so slowly that scarcely a shot missed us, literally riddling the ship, as if we had been a butt put up to be fired at.

“How do you like this?” I asked of young Sumner, who was near me.

“Not at all just now,” he answered. “I only wish that the captain would let us get up and fire back on the enemy. I thought that was always done when people fight.”

“Sometimes one has to be battered at as well as to batter, as in the present instance,” I answered. “But depend on it, we shall be allowed to take our revenge before long.”

“Oh, I wish those dreadful cannon-balls would not come so close to one,” sung out poor Harry, half playfully, half in earnest, as a round shot came crashing through the bulwark close to where we lay, throwing the splinters about us, ploughing up the deck, and passing out at a port on the other side.

“I thought you were not going to be frightened, Harry, my boy,” said I.

“Nor should I, I tell you, if I could but be firing in return,” he answered. “Besides, it is the first time I was ever in action, and I have heard that the bravest men are apt to bob their heads on such occasions. Perhaps when I get accustomed to it I shall care as little as anyone for it.”

“I have no doubt you will, Harry,” I replied; and most truly the noble little fellow did not disappoint my expectations. With proud defiance the squadron continued its onward course, still desisting from firing, as if invulnerable to the showers of round shot and bullets which came whistling about them. The enemy were in general firing too high to do much injury except to our rigging; the splinters which flew from our topmasts and yards and came showering down every now and then on deck, and the strange festoons our rigging began to form, the ends of ropes hanging here and there, and the numerous holes exhibited in our sails showed the effect their unremitting fire had caused. Sometimes the wind was so light that we had little more than steerage way, when instantly guns were brought round to attack us. Still we had not performed half our distance. I must own that never, when in chase of an enemy, or when attacked by gun-boats, or when finding my ship set on shore by a strong current, have I more earnestly prayed than now for a breeze to carry us onward. Nothing so much damps the ardour of men as having to sit quiet and be fired at without having the power of returning the compliment. Few can stand it except Turks and Englishmen; Turks because they fancy it is their fate, Englishmen because they know it is their duty. As the shot came crashing among us and the blocks and splinters from the spars and other parts of the rigging came tumbling down on our heads, a growl might every now and then be heard from some of the seamen very like that given by a savage dog chained up as a stranger approaches his kennel and he finds after repeated trials that he has come to the length of his tether. I really felt it a relief when I had to move about the decks on any duty, as was the case occasionally when a slight shift of wind or an alteration in our course made it necessary to trim sails, though I was thus exposed to a much greater risk of losing the number of my mess. Not a man could show his head above the hammock nettings but he was sure to become the mark of a hundred riflemen who were poking out their weapons from the windows of the houses which looked so peaceably at us. As I went about the decks I amused myself by remarking the different expressions worn by the countenances of the men. With respect to the greater number it was that of calm indifference, as if not aware that they were running any unusual risk of their lives. Some seemed to see the danger, but to brave it; many were laughing and joking among themselves, while a few, and only a few, were evidently in no small terror of being hit. I passed near Tom Rockets. His countenance told me that I need have no fear of his doing me discredit. Old Grampus was near him, looking as calm as if he was sitting down to his dinner.

“I have been telling the youngster, sir,” said he, “that one of the first things a seaman has to learn is how to bear the hardships it may please Providence to send him, whether he has to be shot at, as he has now, or to suffer famine on a raft or desert island, or to have the sea breaking over him on a wreck or on the cold, slippery rocks. Maybe he’ll have to try them all before he settles down with a wooden leg, ashore in his own cottage, or bears up for Greenwich, as I hopes to do one day.”

Tom listened to this very gravely, but I suspect old Nol had been amusing himself somewhat at his expense. Hour after hour passed by, and the ship proudly held on her course round Manhattan Island till we reached the eastern side beyond the city, where, at a spot called Kip’s Bay, about two miles from it, the squadron at length, at about seven o’clock, dropped anchor in front of a long line of entrenchments which the enemy had thrown up.

Captain Hudson, having to communicate with Captain Hamond, sent me on board the Roebuck. Having delivered my message, I inquired for my friend Hitchcock.

“He is here,” said Collins, a midshipman I had addressed, lifting up an ensign which was spread near the mainmast.

There lay the poor fellow who was to have dined with me that day, so lately full of life and spirits, now stiff and stark. A rifle-bullet had passed through his heart. Several other men had been killed and wounded on board. Such is one of the chances of war. I returned sadly on board my own ship. In those days such an occurrence had but a very transitory effect.

As soon as the enemy found that we were to be stationary for a while, some guns were brought up, which began playing on us, and kept up a no very musical serenade during the night. The shots struck the ships occasionally; but the guns were very badly served, and did little or no execution. Their music did not prevent me sleeping soundly, and preparing to take my share in the hot work in which we were about to gage.

The next day we received orders to attack the batteries at Hell Gate. Lord Howe could not have been informed of the true nature of the place, or he would not have issued the order. The pilots, however, positively refused to take up the ships, asserting, and not without good grounds, that they would inevitably be lost. At all events, I believe that by their determination we escaped a severe chastisement from the enemy. We therefore, with the exception of a little cannonading, spent another quiet night with whole skins in Kip’s Bay.

Note 1. Afterwards Sir Andrew Hamond, Bart, and father of the late Admiral Sir Graham Hamond, Admiral of the Fleet, and grandfather of the present Captain Sir Andrew Hamond, Bart.—Editor.

Chapter Five.

A bright morning and a dark day.—Attack on New York.—Mercer shows his sympathy with the Americans.—The battle rages.—Field of battle.—Assist a wounded American.—Fired at by our friends.—Another trip on shore.—Fall into the hands of Hessian troops.—Rescued by General Pigot.—Sent with despatches to Lord Howe.—My boat’s crew mutiny.—New York on fire.—Treatment of supposed incendiaries.—Remarks on the war.—The condemned spy.—Mercer pleads for him in vain.—His execution.

By early dawn on the morning of the 23rd of September, 1776, every one was astir. The sultry atmosphere alone, even under ordinary circumstances, would have made us glad to leave our berths. It had become known that a combined attack by the land and sea forces was to be made on the enemy. The mighty sun rose over Long Island in a blaze of glory, and shot upward into a cloudless sky as the anchor was lifted. Fold after fold of our white canvas was let fall, and the other ships of the squadron following our example, we once more moved onward along the shore of Manhattan Island.

The scene was one of great beauty. The rays of the bright luminary fell on the wood-crowned heights of Harlem on one side, and of Morrissania on the other side of the creek, throwing the promontories into bold relief, and the bays and inlets, with which the coast is indented, into deeper shade, while rich fields, and meadows and orchards, as they basked in the soft morning light, gave the whole landscape an appearance of calmness and peace, soon to be broken by the rude realities of fierce, unrelenting warfare.

As soon as we weighed anchor the troops of the enemy, who had been watching us under arms since dawn, began to march along the shore close to us, regardless of the danger they ran of destruction, for had we opened our broadsides, we might have played sad havoc among them. They were not quite so fantastically dressed as my friends at Cape Henlopen, but still there was a very great variety of costume, and a lamentable want of discipline among them. If the front rank did not advance fast enough, the rear would give them a shove or a kick to urge them on, all the time making significant and not very complimentary signs to us to come on shore and fight them, while they tried to express their supreme contempt for us by every means in their power, shouting out taunting words, and abusing us in no measured terms.

Our men had two days before stood the battering we got with comparative calmness, but the taunts and signs of the foe now enraged them beyond all endurance.

“Wait a bit, my lads, and then won’t we give it you!” sung out Dick Trunnion, a sturdy topman, and many similar expressions were uttered by others.

“Oh, Muster Hurry, don’t yer think the captain would let us go ashore, and give them chaps the drubbing they deserves?” asked Tom Rockets as I passed, doubling his fists while he spoke. “I’d like to give them a hiding.”

“Never mind them, lads,” said old Grampus, turning his back to the shore, and looking over his shoulder at the foe with a glance of supreme contempt. “They knows no better; and fancies because we don’t hit we can’t. Poor fellows! I pities them, that I do. They bees little better than savinges, only they wants the paint and feathers.”

I felt very much as Nol said he did; but I suspect that his anger was rather more excited than he chose to confess. The truth was that these were mostly raw militia regiments, who had seen little or nothing of warfare, and from the previous occurrences of the war had been taught to look with contempt on British prowess. The regulars in most instances behaved admirably, and nothing could surpass the bravery of the officers of all ranks. This their greatest enemies could not deny; but the militia were of a very different stamp, and the men, unable to depend on each other or their officers, on several occasions fairly turned tail and ran away. I fancy that most of our opponents on the present occasion were of that class. We stood on till we reached a spot about fifty yards from the enemy’s entrenchments, a little below Blackwell’s Island, where the squadron dropped their anchors, and calmly furled sails. There we lay for some time without exchanging a shot, expecting, however, that some hot work was about to be commenced. The glasses of the officers were in the meantime constantly turned towards the small islets in the direction of Long Island. At length Captain Hudson uttered an exclamation of satisfaction.

“They come! they come!” he cried out, and as he spoke a flotilla of boats were seen emerging from among the tree-covered shores of Bushwick Creek. They formed the first division of flat-bottomed boats, having on board a force of 4500 men, under the immediate command of General Howe. Slowly and steadily they advanced, like some huge black monsters covering the blue surface of the tranquil and hitherto peaceful Sound. The drum now beat to quarters.

“Now my boys, if so be you want to punish them poor savinges as has been beguiling you, your time’s soon coming,” growled out old Nol, as the crew were hurrying with alacrity to their guns.

The only person whose countenance showed no satisfaction was Mercer. Pale as death, he stood at his post over his division of guns; but I saw that he would rather have died a hundred deaths than engage in the work he felt it was his duty to perform. From my heart I pitied him. There was but little time, however, for thinking of that or any other matter. On came the flotilla of boats. Not a shot had as yet disturbed the calm tranquillity of the scene. A thin, gauze-like mist was spread over the distant portions of the landscape. The hot sun struck down on our heads; the blue expanse of water glittered in his bright rays, and the sea-fowl skimmed over it, dipping their wings ever and anon, as if to refresh them in the liquid element. Everything still wore an aspect of perfect peace. The boats at last got within fifty yards of the ships. A signal flew out from the mast-head of the Phoenix—the knell of many a human being. It was the signal to engage.

“Fire away, my lads,” was shouted along the decks. It was not necessary to repeat the order. Never did a crew work their guns with more alacrity. The shot rushed like a storm of gigantic hailstones among the ill-fated Americans, tearing up their entrenchments and scattering the earth and palisades far and wide. In a very short time the fortifications in which they had trusted were blown to atoms; still we fired on as fast as our guns could be loaded and run out. The enemy answered us from various points; but with little effect. In a few short moments, how changed was the scene from what it had lately been! Now from point to point, and through every sheltered nook and bay resounded the roar of cannon, the rattle of musketry, the shouts of the combatants, the shrieks and groans and agonising cries of the wounded, while above all hung a dark, funereal pall of smoke, ascending from the scene of strife, shutting it out as it were from the bright blue glorious firmament above, and, if it could be, from the all-searching eye of the Creator of men who were thus disfiguring His image by their furious passions, and dishonouring Him by the infraction of all the precepts of that mild, that beneficent religion, which He in His unsearchable love sent His only Son to teach them to obey.

But where am I driving to? I did not think thus at the time. No; my blood was up; my evil passions were aroused; and I was as eager as anyone to shed blood, and utterly careless of all the consequences to myself and others. Never have I witnessed a more tremendous fire than was kept up by our ships for fifty-nine minutes, during which time in the Orpheus alone we expended 5366 pounds of powder. I kept no note of the number of shot we fired away. The very first broadside made a considerable breach in the enemy’s works. At the end of the time I have mentioned the boats advanced, and the signal was made to cease firing. As they touched the beach the men sprang on shore, and, forming rapidly, gallantly rushed towards the entrenchments with fixed bayonets and loud cheers. The enemy scarcely waited to deliver their fire, but, throwing down their arms, fled on all sides in the utmost terror and confusion, earnestly petitioning for quarter. The red-coats leaped through the breaches made by our guns, and over the embankments, and were speedily in possession of the enemy’s works. As the smoke cleared away, the ground far and near appeared covered with the bodies of the slain and wounded, some with arms, others with legs, shot away, while parties of fugitives were seen flying in every direction, pursued by our men, especially by the Hessians, who seemed little disposed to give the quarter which was asked.

I was not only a spectator but a participator in what I have been describing. As soon as the ships ceased firing, our boats, of which I commanded one, were ordered to aid in towing the flat-bottomed boats on shore. As soon as the troops had landed, leaving Grampus in charge of my boat, I, with another midshipman and Tom Rockets and two other men, followed them into the entrenchments, and found myself shortly in the rear of a body of Hessians as they charged over the ground. A poor American was flying for his life, shrieking out for mercy. One of those savage mercenaries either did not or would not understand him, and before I could interpose had with a sweep of his sword severed his head from his body, then, in savage triumph worthy of a Red Indian, sticking it on a pole, carried it through the entrenchments, shouting out as if he had performed some noble act of heroism.

Meantime several of the ship’s boats were ordered to pull along-shore to annoy the enemy in their flight and to prevent them from rallying. My friend Hargrave and I, midshipmanlike and thoughtless of danger, set off in the direction the enemy had taken along the shore, picking up a number of articles which in their terror they had dropped or thrown away, such as rifles, pistols, swords, spy-glasses, and even watches, plate, and camp utensils of various sorts, which we knew would be most acceptable to our mess. We passed many of the slain, knocked over in their flight. As we ran thoughtlessly on, very little moved by these sights, to which even the youngsters were becoming familiar, I heard a deep groan. Looking round, I saw behind a bush a militiaman stretched on the ground with a bad wound in his side.

“Oh, kill me! kill me! put me out of my misery!” he exclaimed as soon as he saw me.

“No, I will not do that,” said I; “but I will try if I can relieve you.”

I had a flask of some rum and water in my pocket; I gave him some of it to drink. There was, fortunately, a stream near; I got some fresh water in a hat and washed his wound, and then bound it up with a piece of shirt which I took from a dead man near. The poor fellow seemed much revived and very grateful.

“There,” said I, “you will be able to get off and join your people at nightfall. It’s not my business to take you prisoner.”

“Thank you, stranger, thank you,” said he; “Amos Spinks will not forget your mercy and kindness.”

I could not stay with him longer, but, leaving him a piece of biscuit and a hat full of water, I ran on to join my companions, who, not seeing me, had gone forward. The American had no idea I was an officer, for I had on a white linen jacket which I wore at my quarters, and it was consequently thickly begrimed with powder and dirt. I caught sight of my party ahead, and ran on as fast as my legs could carry me, with the load of spoils I had collected, to overtake them. As I neared them, and was shouting to them to stop, I caught sight of one of our boats, with Mr Heron, our second lieutenant, in her, pulling along-shore after me. I saw that he was somewhat excited, and seemed urging on the men to pull with greater speed. Just as I got up to my party, to our no small astonishment, not to say dismay, he turned the bow of the boat towards us, and bang he let fly a shower of grape from a gun placed there right in among us, following up the unwelcome salute with a volley of small arms. We shouted at the top of our voices, and made signs that we were friends; but what with the smoke and his blindness, for he was near-sighted, and the noise of the firing and the shouts of his men, he neither made out who we were nor heard us, but continued peppering away as before.

“Run, my lads, run,” I sung out; “there’s no disgrace running from friends, but very unpleasant to be shot by them.”

My party required no second order, but away we all scampered as fast as we could go, scattering from each other to distract our friends in their very unfriendly employment.

“Oh, Mr Hurry, I bees hit, I bees hit?” sung out Tom Rockets.

I expected to see him fall, but the shot only made him scamper on the faster. Our flight, of course, made Mr Heron fire at us more zealously, and we had to throw away all the things we had collected to escape with greater speed from his heroic fury. We took a course inland, and then turned back towards the place where we had landed. Happily we soon got among trees and rocks and broken walls, which much sheltered us, and Tom was the only man wounded. As soon as we got clear of the shot from the boat, I called a halt to examine his hurt. It was merely a slight flesh wound from a bullet in the leg, and a handkerchief bound round it enabled him to walk on. It was now time to return on board, so we made the best of our way to the boat, not without some considerable risk of being shot by our own sentries. On my stepping on deck I found several officers round the captain. Mr Heron was among them.

“The rascally rebels can’t stand us for a moment, sir,” he was saying. “A whole gang of them hove in sight as I was pulling along-shore—a hundred at least—and stood hallooing to me and daring me to come after them. I let fly among them, sent them scampering away like a flock of sheep, knocking over a good dozen or more, I should think. It was rare fun, sir.”

“Very good fun for you, Mr Heron,” said I, turning round; “but I beg to assure you, sir, that there were not a dozen of us altogether.”

“You! what do you mean?” he asked, with a look of surprise.

“Why, that I was one of the body of supposed rebels, and though we shouted to you and begged you not to fire, you banged at us so furiously that we had to throw away a whole heap of things we had collected, and to run for our lives.”

Captain Hudson and the other officers laughed not a little at this exploit of Mr Heron’s, for he was notorious for his boasting. He bore me a grudge about it ever after.

“Well, Mr Hurry,” said the captain good-naturedly, “you shall go on shore in the afternoon with Mr Heron, and try to recover some of your treasures.”

Away we went in the afternoon accordingly in high glee, Mr Heron expecting to pick up all sorts of things, and I hoping to recover those I had lost. We soon reached the field on which Mr Heron boasted to have gained his hard-won victory; but the swords and all the things of value were gone, picked up by the plundering-parties who invariably issue forth over the scene where the strife has been hottest, as birds of prey gather on the carcase just fallen in the desert. I looked about for the poor fellow I had assisted in the morning. He was gone. He had, I concluded, either been taken prisoner, or had managed to crawl off and rejoin his friends. We went on much farther than we had been in the morning, picking up some drums and a few similar bulky articles, which others had not thought worth collecting. We picked up in all nine drums, one of the largest of which I sent to my friend, Jack Bluet, who lived in a small house at Falmouth. It might have served him for a drawing-room table. I hope he has got it still. A little way beyond where I found the wounded man I came on the body of an officer. He lay on his back, shot through the heart, his hand grasping a very handsome fusee, and with a look of defiance still on his countenance. I suspect he had been bush-fighting in Indian fashion, in hopes of checking the advance of his enemies, in spite of the flight of his companions in arms. He was a fine young man, and from his style of dress and general appearance was evidently of respectable family. I stooped down, and, undoing the grasp with which the dead man’s fingers held the fusee, took possession of it and ran after my companions. Still, as I hurried on, the look worn by the features of the dead officer haunted me. I felt as if I had been depriving him of his property. I thought of his mother and sisters, or perhaps a young wife, who were doomed never to see him again, or of friends who might be expecting to meet him that very day, and for a moment all the dreadful results of warfare presented themselves before me more vividly than they had ever before done. The laughter and jokes of my companions, however, very quickly drove all such thoughts from my mind. We had been joined by an acquaintance of mine, Simeon, a midshipman of the Phoenix, who had with him the gunner and seven men. By some means or other I had been separated from Mr Heron and my boat’s crew—indeed, my lieutenant had no particular fancy for my society, so I joined company with Simeon, and together we rambled into the woods. We had not gone far when we caught sight of a fellow skulking among the trees. When he saw that he was observed he took to his heels, and this of course made us give chase. The woods rang with our shouts and cries, and we were not long before we came up with the man, who proved to be a rebel militiaman. He sang out most lustily for mercy, thinking that we were going to kill him, but we soon quieted his fears on that score by assuring him that he was not worth powder and shot. He seemed to be very grateful, and informed us that there had been a smart skirmish in the wood between his party and a body of Hessians, the latter of whom he believed were still in the neighbourhood of the wood. Of the truth of part of his story the dead bodies scattered here and there about were too true witnesses. Simeon and I, on this, called a halt and consulted together with the gunner whether we should go back or seek further adventures ahead.

“We have taken one prisoner, perhaps we may make some more and gain some little credit when we present ourselves with them in camp, so I vote that we go on,” said I; and my proposal was agreed to.

As we supposed that we might be in the face of an enemy we kept closer together than before, and moved on more cautiously. After advancing some way we heard voices in an orchard on the skirts of the wood, and, supposing the sounds to proceed from a party of the rebels, we presented our muskets and advanced towards the gate of the orchard, fully expecting to make more prisoners. Just, however, as we began to move on up started before us a body of two or three hundred Hessians, with glittering brass helmets on their heads, who, with fixed bayonets and loud cries, charged furiously at us. Had we attempted to move they would have shot us, so we stood our ground and sung out most lustily that we were friends. They did not understand us, and, charging on, would, I fully, expected, have bayoneted us on the spot. “Friends—friends! English—British officers!” I sung out at the top of my voice.

“Rebels, rebels!” was the only answer we got; and in another moment we were knocked over with the butt-ends of their muskets. We picked ourselves up as well as we could, and I pointed to my own and Simeon’s white cuffs and lapels, and told them that we belonged to the British fleet, but to no purpose; and what was my dismay when they showed us at a little distance an unfortunate rebel officer who lay on the ground with his leg shot off, and who was dressed in the same uniform which we wore. He told them as well as he could that he knew nothing of us, but they would not believe him, and, having talked together in their hideous lingo, once more knocked us over and began belabouring us with their muskets. I never met such savages, and I am not surprised that they were hated by the poor colonists. I am sure we bore them no love, especially just then. We sung out lustily for mercy, for to our horror we saw that they were about to finish us off by plunging their bayonets into us, when our cries brought up an officer on horseback, in whom, to my great satisfaction, I recognised General Pigot, the commander of the division to which they belonged. He knew me on board the Chatham, and was thus able to assure the Hessians who I was. They made all sorts of apologies, which afforded us a very small amount of satisfaction.

Thanking General Pigot for his timely rescue, we set off to return to our ships, heartily sick of our day’s adventures—hungry and battered, indeed, very much in need both of cook and doctor.

The next day we weighed and, parting from the Phoenix and the other ships with which we had been in company, ran up between Blackwell’s Island and the main. As we were running at the rate of some four or five knots an hour a shock was felt which made the ship shiver throughout her whole frame. The pilot turned pale, as if he expected to be shot on the spot. He had put us on a rock. Captain Hudson, cool as usual, issued his orders as if nothing particular was the matter, and we quickly swung off again and proceeded on our way till we brought up snugly in Turtle Cove. While the ship lay there I was sent, on the 25th, with dispatches to Lord Howe, then residing on Staten Island. My boat’s crew on this occasion consisted either of pressed men or of fellows whom I knew to be among the greatest blackguards in the ship. On the way down they showed signs of an unruly disposition by pulling slowly and not putting out their strength when I ordered them. Their conduct, however, did not trouble me, and I forgot all about it as I walked up to present my dispatches to his lordship. I have always entertained the greatest respect for Lord Howe. He was a good seaman—of bravery undoubted—cool and thoughtful in danger—generous and kind, and considerate for those under his command and careful for their interests. He was much abused by the royalists in America, as well as by many in the army and fleet, as also at home, because he did not seem anxious to push matters to extremes at once with the rebels and allow fire and sword to be carried throughout their territories. But he looked upon them as fellow-beings and fellow-subjects, and though misguided, he considered that they had too much reason for their rebellion to be treated with the severity others proposed. I have heard that after an action he would go below and visit each wounded man as he lay in his hammock, and stop and talk to him, and would send wine and poultry from his own stock to those whom the surgeon thought required it. Such are the deeds by which an officer can easily win the hearts of seamen. I had not to wait long before I was told to walk into his room, and I found myself in the presence of a dark and somewhat hard-featured man—with a figure, however, tall, well-proportioned, and dignified. Had I not known him by repute I should have been somewhat awe-struck, but as he spoke his countenance brightened up, and his kind look dissipated all feeling of fear.

“Sit down, youngster,” said he, “and let me hear your account of the action of the 23rd. As your ship was at hand I conclude you saw it.”

I gave him the best description in my power of what I had seen, taking care to make no reflections on the events of the day. He seemed much interested, and hastily writing a letter, as soon as it was copied, told me to return with it to Captain Hudson.

When I got back to my boat I had no little difficulty in collecting my men, and soon after I shoved off I found that they were one and all drunk. As long as they pulled on I said nothing, but in a short time they began to grumble at having come away without more liquor.

“What’s the odds?” said one. “The shortest way is to go back and get it.”

“My idea, Sam!” cried another. “If we once get aboard our chance is over.”

“About, shipmates,” exclaimed a third. “Never mind the youngster.”

“But you will have to mind me, my lads!” I exclaimed, springing up with my hanger in my hand. “You’ve made a mistake if you fancy that I allow tricks to be played with me.”

For a short time they were silent, and, hoping that I had cowed them by my promptitude, I again sat down in the stern-sheets. I kept my weapon in my right hand, however, for I was aware how completely I was in their power if they chose to proceed to extremities. I had come away without pistols, so that I had only my hanger to depend on, and they might, if they had acted together, have wrenched it from my grasp and, overpowering me, have hove me overboard. They would then have escaped without much difficulty to one of the nearest American posts and joined the rebels. While I was thinking over this very pleasant subject, and contemplating myself swimming for my life up East River, they again began to grumble.

“I’ll not pull another stroke!” cried one fellow with an oath.

“Nor I! Nor I!” exclaimed others.

Two, I remarked, did not speak; and addressing myself to them, I asked if they would join in so rascally and uncalled-for a mutiny.

It was now getting very dark, and I could scarcely see the features of the men, so as to be prepared for what they were about to do. The boat lay motionless on the water. If I hesitated I was lost.

“Take to your oars and give way, or I will cut you to pieces, you scoundrels!” I shouted, springing up and making a cut with my hanger at the hands of one of the most mutinous. “If you won’t use your bands, I’ll chop them off. Pull, I say!”

I should have been as good as my word had not the fellow taken to his oar, while my blade struck the gunwale of the boat, by which the point was broken. The mutineers now rose in a body and seemed about to make a rush on me. On this, I began slashing away to keep them at bay, cutting them over the hands and arms pretty severely.

The two men, one of whom pulled the stroke-oar and the one next him, now sang out that they would obey my orders.

“Then we’ll heave you all overboard together!” cried the most drunken of the mutineers.

“Will you, my man?” I exclaimed, making a cut at him with my hanger. “Then take that first!”

He stumbled and fell with his face aft, thereby saving his life, though I again broke the blade of my hanger almost up to the hilt. The other men, fancying he was killed, hung back, while I dragged his senseless body into the stern-sheets and stowed him away, for he was stunned with the effect of his fall and his drunkenness. The men forward sat sulkily down, perhaps they would not have remained quiet had they known I had broken my hanger. They refused however to pull, and one after the other dropped off into a drunken sleep. The two more steady ones did their best to pull on, and the tide fortunately favoured us, or I do not know where we should have got to. I have seldom been placed in a much more fearful position. Any moment the mutineers might wake up and, remembering the consequences their conduct was sure to bring on them, might again attempt to overpower me and carry off the boat to the enemy. I was weary and hungry, and in the darkness of night all sorts of dreadful thoughts occurred to me as I slowly floated over those perilous waters. I felt a strong inclination at times to run into New York to try and get aid; but I thought if I did the men would certainly escape and hide themselves before I could find any of the military authorities to afford me assistance. New York by this time was entirely in the hands of the British. On the day we landed at Kip’s Bay General Howe pushed forward part of his troops to encompass the city on the land side, when General Putnam, the American commander who held it, was compelled to make a precipitate retreat, being very nearly cut off before he joined Washington at King’s Bridge. Had not, indeed, the British delayed their advance to refresh themselves, they would in all probability have captured the whole division of the rebel army. A large number of the inhabitants remained in New York, those only who had taken a prominent part in the rebellion thinking it necessary to leave it. It was very doubtful, however, had I gone on shore, whether I should have fallen among friends or foes. I resolved, therefore, to make, the best of my way to the ship. I watched the lights glimmering in the houses, one after the other being put out as I pulled slowly by, and I could hear the constant call of the sentries as the officers went their rounds, while any moment I felt that my mutinous crew might come to their senses and make an end of me. I amused myself, however, by whistling and singing snatches of songs to make them suppose that I was perfectly indifferent to their threats, and at length, by half-past one in the morning, to my great relief I got alongside the ship. The mutineers only at that moment roused up, and very much astonished they were to find themselves clapped into irons as soon as they got on board. The next morning they each received nine dozen, with the exception of the two who had at once returned to their duty. I took care to get them ultimately rewarded.

The most disagreeable duty we had to perform while we lay in Turtle Bay was to row guard at night abreast of Hell Gate, the name, as I have before mentioned, given to the entrance of Harlem River. With the ebb-tide a terrific current sets out through the narrow channel, forming a whirlpool, on which is bestowed the pleasant-sounding title of the Devil’s Pot. On one side is his gridiron, and on the other his frying-pan, while another batch of rocks goes by the name of his “hen and chickens.” Now, although I cannot take upon myself to affirm that even on the darkest and most stormy night I ever beheld his Satanic majesty engaged in the exercise of his well-known culinary talents in frying soles or any other fish or fowl, or quadruped, or biped, yet I had the greatest dread of getting within the power of his voracious cauldron. I therefore always kept at a respectful distance from it. I advise all those who may have to visit the spot to follow my example. I, however, often heard afterwards some very strange tales narrated by the seamen who had been in the boats when thus employed and implicitly believed by their auditors. In truth, although the master spirit of evil may have no direct influence in the matter, a very large number of vessels and boats have been lost on the surrounding rocks.

The constant hard service in which we had been engaged since we left England had placed a large number of our men on the sick-list. During our stay in Turtle Bay we landed them at Blackwell’s Island, where they considerably recovered their strength. From the same place we abundantly supplied the ship with fresh meat and vegetables, luxuries to which we had long been strangers. On the 29th of September I had the middle watch. It had just gone six-bells, when, as I was casting my eyes towards the city, I saw a bright light suddenly dart up towards the sky. It was rapidly succeeded by other flashes till the whole firmament seemed to glow with a bright, ruddy light. “The city is on fire—the city is on fire!” was the general cry on board. There was a strong wind, and as the fire must have already made much progress, we had great fear that the whole city would be burned down. It was proposed at once to make a party to go and see what was the matter, and, a messmate taking my watch, I got leave to join it. Away we pulled as fast as we could, and after we had reached the shore we had no difficulty in finding our way to the scene of destruction. Everybody in the place had turned out of bed. Some were rushing about in despair at the loss of all their worldly property, not knowing where to go to find shelter—others were searching for friends or relatives, in doubt whether or no they had fallen victims to the flames—others were endeavouring to stay the progress of the fire. The most active in this work were the British troops. They had formed a close circle round the burning part of the city and were engaged in blowing-up and pulling down houses, deluging others with water, and cutting off the communication in every direction.

We were attracted by a dense crowd and loud cries in one direction. We ran to the spot, where we found a number of soldiers who appeared to be in a highly exasperated state. They had among them a dozen or more men whom they were dragging forward towards the flames. “Burn them in their own bonfire!” they were shouting out; “Burn them in their own bonfire—they were going to burn us out of our quarters!” We asked a civilian who stood at a house-door looking on what had occurred.

“Why, the soldiers think they have got hold of the men who set the city on fire, and they are going to pay them off. Maybe they are the men who did it, or maybe they are rogues and vagabonds who were prowling about for plunder—so it matters little, I guess,” was the answer we received.

We left our philosophical friend smoking his pipe; he was evidently one of those who care little what becomes of the world provided they are comfortable. We followed the soldiers till we came to some scaffolding erected for building a house, several ropes were hanging about it. The humour seized the soldiers to hang up some of their prisoners, and in a trice four of the unhappy wretches were run up by the heels, while their heads hung downwards. In that position the infuriated soldiers dashed at them with the butt-ends of their muskets, and very soon put them out of their misery. Their companions in misfortune, if not in guilt, meantime were shrieking out for mercy and protesting their innocence, but in vain. The soldiers laughed and jeered at them, and hurrying them on up to a burning house, forced them into the flames at the points of their bayonets. As they rushed shrieking out covered with fire, they were driven back again till the devouring element grasped them at length in its deadly embrace. Then, with loud shouts of demoniacal satisfaction, the enraged soldiers rushed away to look for fresh victims. Miserable was the fate while they were in that humour, of those who fell into their hands. I never saw so dreadful a spectacle before, and hope never to see such a one again.

A short time afterwards General Howe had to send a flag of truce to General Washington respecting an exchange of prisoners, when he was said to have most solemnly denied having had anything to do with the burning of the city. The flames were happily stopped after about a fourth part of it had been burned to the ground. On the night of the 30th the rebels made an attack on Montizieur’s Island, but were repulsed with the loss of a major and several men who were taken prisoners.

On the 2nd of October Delisle and I, with Harry Sumner, having got leave to go on shore, agreed to walk out to visit the lines at King’s Bridge, where our army was intrenched in sight of that of the Americans. Just as we were setting off Mercer said he would come also. The day was lovely. The air was so bright and pure and exhilarating that it was a pleasure alone to breathe it—one of those days of autumn met with in the northern part of America which go by the name of the Indian summer. A thin gauze-like mist filled the atmosphere, giving a warm, almost tropical, look to the landscape; the water looked bluer, the fields greener, the sands yellower, and the rocks browner than I had ever seen them; while the tints of autumn, just showing themselves on the more exposed sides of the trees, gave the woods wonderfully rich and varied hues. We took a path through orchards and woods and across fields, meadows, and gardens, which bore evident and sad traces of the advance of hostile armies. Fences and embankments were levelled, cottages burnt, fruit-trees and fruit-bushes cut down or uprooted, gardens trampled over and destroyed, here and there a few fragrant flowers rearing their heads like guardian angels among the surrounding scene of havoc, alone showing that the spot might once have been some peaceful man’s earthly paradise.

We at length reached the British lines. They extended in one continuous encampment from Horen’s Hook on the Harlem River for about two miles directly across the island of Manhattan to the Hudson, both flanks being guarded by the men-of-war. Commanding the sea, as we did, it was impossible to hold a stronger position. On the other side of an open plain, well posted on a succession of rocky heights, appeared the rebel forces, the advanced sentries of the two armies being within hail of each other. On our left the enemy occupied a strong fortress called Fort Washington, which overlooked the Hudson, and two miles north of it was King’s Bridge, the only passage to the mainland across the inlet of the Hudson I have before mentioned, which joins it to the Harlem River, called by the Dutch Spyt den Duivel Creek, and which still retains its unpleasant-sounding name.

The object of our party seemed to be to get possession of Fort Washington, and so cut off the retreat of the enemy. It was said that General Howe ought to have sent a strong force up the Hudson and attacked Washington in the rear, while the rest of the army pressed him in front; but he did not make the attempt till it was too late, and a large portion of the American troops had crossed King’s Bridge and taken up a strong position among the hills in the interior. There was a good deal of severe fighting after this, and Fort Washington, which had been gallantly defended by a brave American officer, Colonel Magan, was captured by us, with its garrison of upwards of two thousand men.

We spent some time in the camp talking to various acquaintances among the soldier officers whom we met, and as we wandered on we came to a spot where a drum-head court-martial was sitting. They were trying a man who had been accused of being a spy, captured endeavouring to make his way out of the camp at night. He had just been pronounced guilty. He stood with his arms bound and soldiers holding him on either side. He was a fine tall young man with an intelligent countenance, and though dressed in the hunter’s garb of a backwoodsman, torn and travel-stained, and covered with dirt, while his appearance was as rough as he could make it, I thought as I looked at him that he was above the rank he had assumed. A few short moments only were allowed him from the time of his condemnation till his execution. His guilt was clear; he did not even attempt to defend himself. The president had just finished addressing him as we came up.

“If it is a crime to love one’s country better than anything else on earth, to exert every faculty of mind and body, to sacrifice one’s time and property, to risk liberty and life to serve her, then I am guilty—to love liberty and freedom of conscience, to hate tyranny and oppression, then I am indeed a criminal,” he answered in an unshaken voice. “You call me a spy and load me with opprobrium. It was necessary to gain information as to the movements of your mercenary army: twice have I obtained that information and carried it to our noble general. My only regret is that I have not succeeded a third time in so doing; but understand that though I have thus laboured to injure you secretly, I have ever fought openly against you on the field of battle, and on that account I might plead to die a soldier’s death, and not to be treated as a dog and hung. Yet it matters little. According to your laws my sentence is just. I seek not to appeal from it, and I die with the joyous certainty that the righteous cause for which I suffer will triumph at last, and that your proud legions will retire from this country defeated and disgraced.”

“Silence, young man?” exclaimed the president; “you departed from your allegiance to your lawful sovereign; you acknowledge that you have taken up arms against his troops, and you are now found acting the despicable part of a spy. Your false reasoning cannot induce me to alter the sentence pronounced against you. You have but a few minutes in which to take your farewell of life.”

No sooner did Mercer catch sight of the prisoner than he turned very pale, and as he laid his hand on my shoulder I felt that it trembled violently.

“What is the matter, Mercer?” I asked.

“That noble fellow who stands there is my schoolfellow, my old familiar friend!” he cried, scarcely aware of what he said; then, unable to restrain himself, he rushed forward and seized the prisoner’s hand. “Sydney Markham!” he exclaimed, with deep earnestness, looking up into the face of the condemned man, who gazed at him with an expression of recognition and affection; “say that you are not guilty; that you have not been acting the part of a spy. You were ever the soul of honour; I will answer for you; they will not destroy you. If they give you time you can easily disprove the foul accusation brought against you. Say so, Sydney, speak! Tell them that you are not guilty. I will fly to the general—I will go on my knees before him, I will entreat for your life; I will offer mine instead of yours.”

The unhappy young man shook his head, and with a faint smile answered, “Mercer, I cannot disprove the accusation brought against me. We may differ in our views, yet, believe me, I do not feel that I have swerved from the path of honour, and therefore, noble and high-minded as you ever were, I am still worthy to be called your friend. But we are wasting precious time; the minutes of my life are numbered, and I must prepare for death.”

“Oh, no, no, no! I must strive to save you; I cannot bear to see you thus snatched away from life.” Then he turned abruptly to the president of the court. “This man cannot be as guilty as you suppose, sir,” he exclaimed, with a look of agony; “he would never have sought to injure the King’s forces unfairly; let him live till I have seen Sir William Howe; he may order a reprieve till he has inquired more into the particulars of the case.”

“You ask an impossibility, sir,” answered the officer, who was of the Martinet school, as stern and unbending as one of his men’s muskets; “he has been found guilty, and I have no power to reprieve him. We must put a stop to this system of sending spies into our camp. The higher his position and education the more deserving he is of punishment. Sergeant of the guard, carry out the sentence pronounced on the prisoner.”

“You see it is useless, my friend,” said the young man. “Come and assist me to meet death like a man.”

“Oh, my friend, say rather like a Christian,” cried Mercer, again taking his hand; and together they walked to a tree where a sergeant and some soldiers were arranging a block and rope. Mercer was allowed to continue by the side of his friend, and together they knelt down on the grass and prayed for mercy and forgiveness to Him who is the fountain of all mercy and swift to forgive. The chaplain of one of the regiments had been sent for. He came at length, and the prisoner accepted his ministrations alone, but soon again asked Mercer to join him.

In a short time, terribly short it appeared to me, the officer in charge of the party looked at his watch. The prisoner saw the movement; he started to his feet. “I am ready,” he exclaimed, with a firm voice; “I willingly give my life for my country’s freedom, well assured that ere long America will be free to advance onward in the fulfilment of the mighty destiny in store for her, and those who now seek to oppress her will have departed with defeat and disgrace from her shores.”

Mercer entreated him, when he ceased speaking, to calm himself; he did so with wonderful self-command. Another quarter of an hour was allowed him, and at the end of it a signal was given, the rope was thrown over his neck, and he was run up to a high branch of the tree under which he had been standing. There was a loud cry, but it was uttered by Mercer; Delisle and I rushed forward—our messmate had fainted. We got him into a neighbouring hut, where an officer gave us every assistance in his power. Meantime the body of the spy had been removed. As soon as Mercer had recovered we led him as quickly at possible out of the camp in the direction of our ship, and got him without delay on board. He made no allusion on the way to what had occurred; nor did he indeed ever speak of it to me. I expected to find the next day that he was taken ill, but he still went about his duty as usual, though his nervous system had received a shock from which it was evident he would take long to recover. This was the last adventure I have noted during our stay at New York.

Chapter Six.

Once more at sea.—Drive a schooner on shore.—Blows up.—Mercer’s death.—Capture a sloop.—Sent away in her.—A gale.—Engagement with privateer.—Beat her off.—Sent to New York as commodore of prizes.—Jovial life on shore.—Ill conducted expeditions.

We were once more at sea, and truly glad were all hands on board to find themselves in deep water again. The shore of Long Island, faint and low, was just discernible astern, while Sandy Hook and the highlands of Neversink arose in the distance over our starboard quarter. As I looked on the far-off shore I could not help thinking of the scenes of strife and destruction which, in all probability, were going on there, and feeling heartily glad that we were away from them for a time. We had quitted Turtle Bay on the 3rd and dropped down to Staten Island. On our passage down we ran on board a transport and carried away our larboard fore-chains, cathead, and small bower-anchor stock, not to speak of having so severely damaged the transport that she nearly sank. On the 12th of the month, having repaired damages, we put to sea with his. Majesty’s ship Daphne in company. We were on our way to the mouth of the Delaware with the intention of capturing, burning, sinking, or otherwise destroying all vessels of every description belonging to the colonists which we could fall in with, an odd method, it would seem, of bringing them to reason and making them loyal subjects of his Majesty, though our proceedings did not strike me in that light just then. For a couple of days we had a fair wind, which carried us nearly up to our cruising ground. On the 14th Captain Hudson made a signal to the Daphne to go in chase of a sail seen to the southward, and shortly afterwards another sail was seen standing towards us from the westward. We soon made her out to be a man-of-war, and on exchanging signals she proved to be the Kingfisher sloop-of-war. Within an hour after she joined us. As we continued our course to the southward the look-out at the mast-head hailed the deck. “A sail in the south-east,” said he.

“What is she like?” asked Captain Hudson.

“A suspicious-looking craft—a schooner, sir; a merchantman of some sort,” was the answer.

This announcement put us all on the alert, and as soon as every stitch of sail we could carry had been clapped on the ship several officers were seen going aloft with their spy-glasses slung by rope-yarns over their shoulders to have a look at the chase. I was among the number, so was Mercer. We soon afterwards made the land, which as we drew near we recognised as Cape May. We were rapidly over-hauling the chase, which was steering directly for the coast, and it was a question whether we should come up with her before she ran on shore or got under shelter among any rocks which might be there. There is nothing so exciting in a sea life as a chase; the discussion as to what the stranger may prove, friend or foe, with or without a cargo, armed, and likely to show fight, or helpless, worth having or valueless; and, more than all, whether or not one is likely to overtake her. There is only one thing beats it, and that is to be chased, and I cannot say that the sensations are so agreeable. We were most of us in high spirits at the thoughts of making a capture; the first, we hoped, of a number of prizes we should take during our cruise. The only person who did not take an interest in the affair was Mercer. He was grave and careworn as before; indeed, it struck me that his melancholy had increased lately. He was sitting close to me at the fore-top mast-head.

“Hurrah! we are overhauling her; we shall soon be up with her!” I exclaimed.

“Hurry,” said he, turning round suddenly, “I cannot bear this life. I wish to do my duty, to remain faithful to my allegiance, and yet, I care not who knows it, all my sympathies are with those England has made her foes. I have but one resource; I must quit the service. I would that I could reach some desert isle where I could hide my head far from the haunts of men. I would even welcome death as an alternative. Hurricane, do you know I have of late felt as if my days were already numbered, and that my stay on earth will be very short. Once the thought would have made me unhappy; now I contemplate it with satisfaction, even at moments as a welcome boon.”

I did my utmost to turn my friend’s mind from the gloomy contemplations which occupied it. I had conceived of late much greater regard for him than I had when we first met; there was much that was generous and romantic in his character which attracted me, besides which his courage and coolness in danger had often excited my admiration. I had been, as I have said, using all the arguments I could think of to turn his thoughts into another channel, when he replied—

“I know that I am wrong to give way to these feelings. My religion teaches me to trust in God’s good providence and to believe that all He orders is for the best. I spoke as I did from weakness and want of faith; still I tell you that I am certain before long I shall meet my death. I am endeavouring to prepare for that awful moment; but it is at times, notwithstanding what I have just said, very, very hard to contemplate.”

After speaking much in the same strain as before, I told him that I had known so many people oppressed with the same feeling that he suffered from, of approaching death, who had lived very many years afterwards, that I put not the slightest faith in such prognostications. “At the same time,” I continued, “many a man who expects to lose his life when going into battle does so; but then he would have been killed whether he expected it or not; so, my dear Mercer, I hope you will live to see peace restored, and to enjoy many happy days at home.”

Mercer shook his head, then took a long, eager look at the shore towards which we were approaching.

The Kingfisher had been somewhat more to the south than we were when we sighted the chase. At first she had evidently hoped to double Cape May and to run up the Delaware, but, that hope being cut off, her only mode of escape was to make directly for the land; and it now became evident to Mercer and me, as we sat on our lofty perch, that it was the intention of her crew to run her on shore. Our conversation was brought to a conclusion by our being obliged to descend to attend to our duties on deck.

The poor little schooner had but a small prospect of escape with two big ships in chase, but the man who commanded her was a gallant fellow, and it was evident would persevere while a chance of escape remained.

“Fire the foremost gun, Mr Willis, and bring that fellow to,” said Captain Hudson as we got her within range.

“Ay, ay, sir,” answered the first lieutenant, going forward to see the order executed.

Still the chase seemed to have no notion of giving in. Shot after shot was fired, none striking her, and soon the Kingfisher joined in the practice, with like effect.

“I believe the fellow will manage to run his craft on shore before he strikes,” observed the captain. “He has very likely a valuable cargo on board.”

“Powder or arms for the rebels probably, sir,” said Mr Heron. “We shall have to cut him out.”

“I expect so, and intend to give you charge of the expedition,” replied Captain Hudson. “I hope that you will give as good an account of the foe as you did at Kip’s Bay, Mr Heron.”

The second lieutenant made a face as if he did not like the subject.

We were now rapidly overhauling the chase. We had been standing in on a line a little to the north of her, to prevent her hauling across our bows and beating up to windward along-shore in shallow water, which it was just possible she might attempt to do. Thus every chance of escape on that side was cut off from her. At length one of our shots struck her and carried away her main-topmast. Our crew gave a loud hurrah. It was replied to by her people in bravado. Several successive shots did further damage, yet still she would not give in. Her crew might have hoped to draw us on shore, but Captain Hudson was too wary to be thus taken in.

“Shorten sail, Mr Willis,” he shouted, “and make the signal to the ‘Kingfisher’ to do the same.”

Just as our canvas was reduced and the heads of the ships turned off shore, gracefully bowing to the sea which rolled in, there was a shout from those who were on the look-out on the chase. She had run on shore. As she struck the rocks both her masts went by the board. Captain Hudson on this ordered three boats from us to be manned and two from the Kingfisher, to go in and try to get her off, if not to destroy her, for which purpose we took the usual combustibles. Mr Heron went in one, and had charge of the expedition. Mercer went in another, and I had command of a third. The Kingfisher, at the same time, stood in as close as she could, and then furling sails was warped in with springs on her cables, to cover us in case we should be molested. The schooner had run in within a reef which protected her somewhat from the sea. As we drew near, I saw that her crew were still on board. My boat had taken the lead of the others.

“Give way, my lads, give way!” I shouted; “we shall have time to catch the fellows before they set their craft on fire.” I was not aware at the time that they were not likely to do that same thing. The sea was breaking over her forward, but without much violence. She lay at about seventy to a hundred yards from the shore. I steered for her quarter, and as I and my men sprung on board, her crew tumbled over the bows into their boat, and made good way towards the beach. So precipitate had been their retreat that they left behind them two poor fellows who had been wounded by our shot. As our boats came round the stern of the schooner, and saw the rebels escaping, the two belonging to the sloop-of-war pulled away in chase, while Mr Heron and Mercer jumped on board. The Kingfisher’s boats would have captured the rebels, but, just as they were about doing so, up started three or four hundred militiamen from behind some sand hills, while other bodies were seen rushing down from all directions towards us. They immediately opened so heavy a fire on the two boats that they were compelled to desist from the pursuit, and wisely beat a retreat to the schooner. The sloop-of-war on this fired on the people on shore. There were probably by this time a thousand or more possessed of every possible description of fire-arm. The Kingfisher dispersed those who had first shown themselves in an exposed situation, and knocked several of them over, but the rest kept up so very heavy a fire on us that we were glad to dive down below to get out of it. We at once found that it would be impossible to to get the schooner off, and we then set to work to examine her cargo. I had gone into the cabin, where I found the ship’s manifest. I took it up to read it, as I concluded it would give me the information we required. I saw that some dry goods had been shipped, and some saltpetre, and I had just read “Three hundred and sixty barrels of gunpowder”—an article very much in request among the rebels—when there was a cry raised of “Fire, fire, fire!” Mr Heron had made the same discovery by seeing some suspicious black grains falling out of a cask, and he had just before beat a retreat.

“To the boats, to the boats, for your lives, my men!” I shouted, springing on deck, followed by my men. We tumbled into our boats with no little speed, and seized our oars, to place as much distance as we could between ourselves and the threatened danger. As I was leaving the vessel, I saw Mercer, with some of his people, apparently endeavouring to lift the two poor wounded Americans into his boat. It was but a glance, for the hurry and confusion of that awful moment prevented me seeing more.

“Give way, give way for your lives!” I shouted. No sooner did our heads appear above the schooner’s bulwarks than the rebels redoubled their fire on us, but we cared not for them. We scarcely had got clear from the side of the ill-fated vessel, when a terrific, thundering, roaring noise assailed our ears; a vivid flash blinded us; a scorching heat almost consumed us; and as we bent our heads in mute dismay, nearer despair, after a few moments of awful silence, down came crashing about us burning fragments of timbers and planks and spars and sails, and, horror of horrors! pieces of what an instant before had been human forms, breathing with life and strength. The oars were knocked from the men’s hands—dashed to atoms. Several of the men were struck down, shrieking with agony from the dreadful wounds the heavy pieces of burning wood and the hot iron inflicted; the very air was darkened for some moments,—and it seemed that the horrible shower would never cease. Even the enemy were awe-struck at the catastrophe, and ceased firing, as did the sloop-of-war. Our boats’ crews took the opportunity to get out the spare oars, and to pull out to sea. As they did so they rose up and gave the enemy three cheers, which, as may be supposed, drew down on them hot fire in return. An important service had been accomplished in the destruction of the powder, but I was in no mood for cheering. Five boats had gone in, four only were coming out. The fifth floated, shattered and blackened, over the scene of destruction, but no one was in her. She was the boat commanded by Mercer. He and all his crew had been; swept to destruction. His anticipations of coming evil had indeed been speedily verified. Two short hours ago he and I were sitting side by side away from the crowded deck, talking of matters of deep importance, to fathom which I felt was far beyond my comprehension. Now, though scarce a remnant of his blackened form could be discovered, he, I trusted, was on his way to those realms inhabited by beings of bright intelligence, to whom all such mysteries are clear as noon-day. He died in full assurance of salvation through a merciful Saviour; his last act one of charity, of the noblest self-devotion.

“Which, then, is the happiest?”

“Not I, not I.”

I bent my head and thought of what I was, of what I might become, unless protected by the loving mercy of a higher power than that of man’s feeble will.

The next day we parted company from the Kingfisher, and went in quest of the Daphne, which joined us that evening, having missed the vessel of which she had gone in chase.

On the 20th we captured a small schooner from Philadelphia, bound to the West Indies, with flour and Indian corn, and, having taken out the crew: and the flour, we set her on fire, to the no small grief of her master and owner, who stood looking at her as we left her blazing away and lighting up the darkness of a November night. On the 24th a suspicious sail hove in sight, which we made out to be an English brig, though she showed no colours; but, as she did her best to get away from us, we made chase after her. A shot brought her to, when we found that she was bound from the coast of Guinea, had a thousand pounds’ worth of ivory on board, and had been taken by the Congress and Chance privateers Her captors looked very blue, but had to submit to their fate. Captain Hudson ordered Kennedy, with four hands, to take charge of her, and to carry her into New York.

“We shall meet there I hope soon, Hurry,” said he, as he was shoving off to take possession of his new command. “If we can but contrive to spend some little time there, we’ll manage to amuse ourselves now that the place is free from those dunder-headed rebels.”

“I hope so too. It will not be my fault if I do not follow you soon,” I replied, “only, I say, Kennedy, take care that the brig is not recaptured by any of those same dunder-headed rebels.”

“No fear, no fear; I’ll keep too bright a look-out for that,” he answered, laughing.

He had a fair wind and every prospect of a quick run, so that I hoped to find him at New York when I got the chance of going there.

On the 30th we again parted from the Daphne, and soon after gave chase to a sleep, which, after firing a few shots, we brought to. I was at once sent on board to take possession. I found her armed with eight carriage four-pounders, fourteen swivels and four cohorns, and laden with rum, porter, flour and bread, and I dare say she would have proved as ugly a customer to any small craft she might have fallen in with as she would have been a welcome guest at the port to which she was bound. Grampus and Tom Rockets had accompanied me as part of my boat’s crew. Scarcely had I got on board when another sail was seen from the mast-head of the Orpheus, so Captain Hudson ordered me to keep them and another man, and to send the prisoners on board with the rest of the crew, which done, I was to cruise about in the neighbourhood to wait his return. A midshipman’s personal comfort is not much considered on such occasions, so that I was unable to get any clothes or even a change of linen before my ship was standing away with all sail set in chase of the stranger last seen. My prize, I found, was called the Colonel Parry.

“What do you think of our craft?” said I to Grampus, who had been running his eye over her, inside and out.

“Why, Mr Hurry, she’s seen no little service in her time, I’m thinking; and if so be there comes a gale of wind, she’ll require delicate handling, or she’ll be apt to go t’other way to what the schooner we last took did. Now, to my mind, sir, the weather doesn’t look at all pleasant like, and I shouldn’t be surprised but what we get a pretty heavy gale of wind before nightfall.”

“I think so too,” said I. “There’s one comfort, if we do not fan in with the ‘Orpheus’ again for a month to come, we’ve provisions enough on board—we shall not starve.”

Old Nol’s prognostications were fulfilled even sooner than we expected; a black, heavy bank of clouds came rolling up towards us; and as the frigate’s top-gallant sails, shining with peculiar whiteness against the dark mass, sank beneath the horizon, we were pitching our bows into a heavy sea under a close-reefed mainsail and foresail. We had made ourselves as snug as we could, but not a moment too soon. Had there been a trysail on board I should have set it. Even with the sail she had on her the vessel strained very much, and sometimes I thought she would make a perfect dip of it and go down head foremost. However, I had done all I could do, and must await the result.

“What’s the matter now?” said I to Grampus, who had gone below for a short time.

“Why, sir, the old tub is taking in water rather faster than we are likely to pump it out.”

“We must try, however,” I answered. “Man the pumps, and let’s do our best.”

So to work we set. The weather was cool, and we were wet with the sea and spray, but the exercise kept us from feeling cold. We soon found that we made no sensible impression on the water in the hold, but yet it was something to keep the vessel afloat. While so employed, a loud bang saluted our ears; a heavier blast than usual had split both the mainsail and foresail. The sails soon shivered to tatters. I could find none with which to replace them, and there we lay, almost water-logged, at the mercy of the winds and waves. A long November night, too, was coming on, and I felt the very great probability that we might never be blessed by the sight of another dawn. Grampus took it very coolly; he had been in many similar situations; but Tom Rockets was far from happy.

“Oh, Mr Hurry,” said he, as the gale rose higher and the seas tossed us helplessly about, ever and anon deluging our decks, “what is to become of us, sir? What will poor mother do when she hears that you and I are gone to the bottom in this outlandish country, where they seem to have nothing to do but to fight and shoot and knock each other on the head?”

Poor Tom’s notion of the country was very naturally formed from his own experience.

“I hope, Tom, things are not so bad as you fancy,” said I. “We must pray to God, and trust in His mercy to save us. He has power to hold us up if He thinks fit; and I have no doubt, too, that your mother and mine are praying for us, and I feel sure that He will listen to their prayers, if He does not to those of such careless, thoughtless fellows as we are.”

“That’s truth, Mr Hurry,” put in old Grampus; “there’s nothing like having a good mother to pray for one, depend on’t. While my old mother lived, I always felt as how there was one who loved me, who was asking more for me than I dared ask for myself; and now she’s gone aloft, I don’t think she has forgotten her son, though I doubt if she would know his figure-head if she was to see him.”

“I cannot say exactly that. Grampus,” said I, “though it looks to me like true philosophy; but one thing I do know—and that the Bible tells us plainly—that, if we will but trust and believe on Him, we have an Advocate with the Father, ever pleading for us, bad as we may have been—He who came into the world to save us, our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. He knows how to plead for us better than any earthly parent, either alive or in heaven, for He so loved us that He took our nature upon Him, and He knows all things, and knows our weaknesses and temptations, and want of opportunities of gaining knowledge.”

“That’s true again, sir,” observed Grampus; “that’s what I calls right earnest religion—you’ll pardon me for saying it, but to my mind the parsons couldn’t give us better.”

I told Grampus I was glad of his good opinion, and we talked on for some time much in the same strain. I had gained more religious knowledge lately from poor Mercer, who, during the last weeks we had been together, had been very assiduous in impressing his own convictions on me. There are occasions like this which bring people of different ranks together, and which draw out the real feelings and thoughts of the heart, when all know that any moment may be their last; a slight increase of the gale, one heavier sea than usual, the starting of a plank may send them all to the bottom. The pride of the proudest is humbled, the fiercest man is made meek. Those who live on shore at ease, and are seldom or never exposed to danger or are in hazard of their lives, can scarcely understand these things; priding themselves on their education, rank or fortune, they look down on all beneath them as unworthy of their thoughts or care, and I verily believe that some of them fancy that a different Creator made them—that they were sent into the world for different objects, and that they will go to different heaven when they die—that is to say, if they ever think of dying, or ever trouble their heads about an hereafter. I have often wished to get those young gentlemen in just such a position as I was that night, and they could not fail to learn a lesson which they would remember to the end of their days.

In the morning watch the gale began to abate.

“Come,” said I, “let’s turn to and see if we cannot lessen the water in the hold.”

“Ay, ay, sir,” replied Grampus. “We’ve a chance now, I think.”

We therefore all set to work with a will—there is nothing like trying what can be done, however desperate affairs may seem—and before daylight we most certainly were gaining on the leaks. We now found a second jib in the sail-room, which we set as a trysail, though I had not much expectation of it standing, and by its means we hove the vessel to. This at once relieved her greatly, but, as day broke, the weather looked so unpromising that I had great fears we might very soon be in a worse position than before. Our comfort was, that we had now done all that men could do, so we went to breakfast with clear consciences on some of the good things left us by the former owners. We lighted a fire in the cabin, dried our clothes, warmed our bodies, and otherwise made ourselves as comfortable as circumstances would admit. On deck the aspect of affairs was not so cheering. Nothing was to be seen but dark green seas crested with foam around us, and black lowering clouds overhead, while a cold whistling wind did its best to blow our teeth down our throats. The wind, as I expected, soon breezed up again, and continued blowing heavily the whole day. The water, however, did not further gain on us, so I had hopes that we might still weather it out. Night came back on us without our having seen a sail or experienced any change for the better, and the morning came, and the next day passed away exactly as had the first. We had bread enough to eat, and flour to make dumplings, but we had no suet to put with them, so that they came out of the pot as hard as round shots; and we had rum and porter in a superabundance to drink; it was important, however, to use it sparingly, especially the former; but we had very few other things which could be called luxuries; no bedding, no change of clothes, and but a scanty supply of fuel. I had to lie wrapped up in an old cloak and a piece of carpet while Tom Rockets washed out my shirt and stockings. Day after day passed away and there we lay, pitching our bows under, hove-to at the most boisterous season of the year off that inhospitable coast, earnestly wishing for the return of the Orpheus, with the prospect, in the meantime, of being recaptured by an enemy’s privateer, and the certainty of being taken should we make for any port but New York, which, as the wind then held, was a matter of impossibility. We did not, however, pipe our eyes about the matter but, following old Nol’s advice, made the best of it.

“Any sail in sight, Grampus?” I used to ask as I turned out in the morning.

“No, sir, only clouds and water; but better them than an enemy, you know, sir,” was his general reply.

Now and then a sail would appear in the horizon, but either we were not seen or they were peaceable merchantmen, anxious to make the best of their way to their destined port. At last one morning, after I had been keeping the middle watch, old Grampus’ voice roused me out of a sound sleep.

“Come on deck, Mr Hurry, sir, if you please! I don’t like the looks of her at all.”

In a moment my head was up the companion-hatch. The weather was worse than ever. A thick driving mist formed a dense veil on every side, but I could just discern through it the sails of a large schooner standing directly for us from the eastward.

“She is American, I suspect, Grampus,” said I.

“No doubt about it, sir,” he answered. “Our cruise is up, I’m afraid, and we may make ready for a spell on shore, and nothing to do.”

“We might beat her off, though,” I observed. “There is nothing like putting a bold face on the matter, and it would never do to yield without striking a blow.”

“Ay, sir, with all my heart,” said he cheerfully; “the guns are all loaded, and I made Tom and Bill get up some powder and shot in case they were wanted, before I called you, sir. You’ll excuse me, sir, I thought there was no harm.”

“All right, Grampus,” I answered, laughing at his having calculated on what I should certainly propose doing. Bill Nettle was a good man and true, so that I knew I could thoroughly depend on all my small crew, and, having made every preparation, we waited till the schooner got within range of our guns. We had not long to wait. The gale bore her quickly towards us, and I almost thought she intended to run us down. Were she to overpower us there was too much sea to allow her to send a boat on board to take possession. She got within range, still she did not fire.

“She is unarmed, I suspect,” said I.

“No, no, sir,” replied Grampus. “She is armed, depend on that. She is up to some trick or other.”

On she came, passing close to us. The American flag was flying from the peak. I could not make out the mystery. In another moment, however, it was explained. For an instant the fog lifted, and showed us a large ship under a press of sail, standing directly after her. We cheered at the sight, for we had no difficulty in recognising the Orpheus, and at the same moment we ran out and let fly every gun we could bring to bear at the rigging of the stranger. One shot, directed by chance, certainly not by skill, struck her main-topmast, and down it came tumbling on deck. We hastened to reload our guns as fast as we could. She gave us a broadside from her guns in return, but the shot were thrown away. She stood on, however, but we had not a little diminished her chance of escape. The Orpheus was soon up to us, passing within hail.

“Well done, Mr Hurry, well done!” shouted Captain Hudson. “We will send you help as soon as we can.”

His commendation was no little satisfaction to me. It was a fine sight to see the noble ship sweeping by, her white canvas looking whiter amid the dark clouds and the sheets of foam which surrounded her, as, pressed by the gale, she heeled over, till her lee guns dipped in the water as she plunged on through the heaving seas which she majestically cast aside in her course. I longed to be on board her, though I should have speedily changed from a commander into a midshipman. Away she went, her vast form growing each instant more indistinct, like one of the genii one reads about in tales of romance, till she disappeared altogether in the thick driving mist, and once more we were left alone, so that her very appearance seemed almost like a dream, and I began at last to question whether I really had seen her. We watched anxiously for her, trying to pierce through the gloomy atmosphere, but no sign of her could we discern, and night once again closed round us in our solitude. The weather did not improve, so we spent another day at pile driving, neither a pleasant nor a profitable occupation. The second morning after the event I have described was as dark and lowering as before, but, as I went on deck after breakfast, Grampus cheered me by saying that he thought it was going to mend a bit. We were looking to the south-east, when simultaneously all hands uttered a loud cheer. The clouds seemed to burst asunder, the mist lifted, the bright sun shone forth, and, surrounded by his glorious rays, beneath a canopy of blue sky, our noble ship appeared, standing towards us, with the schooner and a sloop in her wake. There was, however, still too much sea on for her to send a boat without some risk; indeed, before she could well have done so, another sail hove in sight, and she was away in chase.

On the 14th of the month we spoke his Majesty’s ship Mermaid, with a convoy from England to New York. On the 15th the Orpheus took a schooner from Martinique, with a cargo of claret, so that with another sloop she had taken she had now five prizes. It was not, however, till the 26th of the month that a boat boarded me from the ship, with written directions from Captain Hudson to take under my command all the prizes, and to proceed with them to New York. I, in return, sent for my bedding and chest, and a few other things from the purser, which I required, and as soon as I had got them I hoisted the signal to my squadron to make sail for the port of our destination. A midshipman had been put in charge of each of the prizes, and as soon as we had lost sight of the ship we ran close to each other to discuss the plans of amusement which each of us were already enjoying by anticipation. Delisle commanded one of the schooners, Ragget another, Nicholas had one sloop, and Drew the last capture. We were, as may be supposed, a very merry set. It did not occur to us that our enemy’s cruisers might pop down on us before we got into port, as does a cat among a party of mice at play. We were almost as helpless as mice in the paws of a cat, for so few men were sent away in each prize that we had scarcely strength to work them, much less to fight or make sail on an emergency. In this instance fortune favoured us. We made Sandy Hook on the 28th, and before evening were all safely moored alongside the wharf, among twenty-nine other vessels of various rigs captured by the Orpheus.

As several other ships of war had sent in prizes, we altogether formed a very jovial set of midshipmen. There were seven of us from the Orpheus alone, and, as I was senior officer, they were generally my guests. I had really a very elegant cabin, nicely fitted up with every convenience, and a comfortable stove, besides which I collected from the various prizes an ample stock of good things to supply the wants of the inner man. Never indeed had I enjoyed more perfect luxury, or greater rest and relaxation, without one anxious care, one unhappy moment to extract the sweets from my existence, free from all the rubs and kicks and snubs midshipmen seem the natural heirs to, so I smiled at fortune and defied its frowns.

I was for a short time, however, made to quake, for after the Orpheus had, during December, sent in several prizes, she arrived herself with two others, and some of my messmates had to return on board. But Captain Hudson, whose good opinion I had won, gave me directions, to my infinite contentment, to remain in charge of the prizes. I had also a sufficient number of companions to bear me company. Numberless were the pranks we Orlopians played. Some might now make me blush, though, generally, if not wise they were harmless. I remember that we did our skipper and the captain of the Daphne out of three cases of claret which they had marked for their own use. It happened that, as we were preparing to keep Christmas Day, some one bethought him of the three cases. They were sent for. One of them was broached at dinner-time, and found so excellent that we drank up the whole; but, as we were doing so, our consciences were alarmed, and we ordered the bottles and corks to be kept. The next day we employed ourselves in refilling them from the casks, and in carefully corking and sealing them. Some time afterwards I was dining with our captain, when one of the cases was produced. The opinion of the guests was asked. Some thought it excellent. Delisle, who was there, looked at me, but we kept our countenances. Our first lieutenant, who was considered a judge, pronounced it good, but he found very little difference between it and the wine in cask.

Among other things we came on some casks of limes—excellent things, be it known, in the composition of punch. The said fruit we accordingly ate up or used for that purpose, and filling the casks with wet hay, some rotten limes, and the stuff they were packed in, returned them to the hold. On examination, the casks of limes were found to have been entirely spoilt. Such tricks are, however, I must own, not only unworthy of imitation, but scarcely fit to be recorded.

I must now give a glance at the position of the belligerent armies at this period. Washington, having crossed the Hudson into the Jerseys, had been compelled by the desertion of a considerable number of his troops, who had enlisted only for short periods, to retreat across the Delaware, while some of the most fertile tracts of the country fell into the hands of the Royalists. General Lee, an officer of considerable talent and daring, was surprised and captured by a body of British cavalry; while the other rebel generals found themselves, with diminished and disheartened forces, separated from each other, and without resources or means of recruiting; indeed, the revolutionary cause appeared to have arrived at its lowest ebb, and great hopes were entertained that a speedy conclusion would be made to the sanguinary contest. Perhaps the Americans were not so badly off as we supposed. That they were not asleep was proved by their gallant and well-conducted surprise and capture of Colonel Rahl and a thousand Hessian troops at Trenton on Christmas Day, an enterprise which inspirited the Americans, and was a severe loss to the Royalists. The Hessian commander was mortally wounded, and died the next day; and most of his men, being marched into the interior, settled in the country. Soon after this occurrence Washington was appointed military dictator, and through his consummate conduct the prospects of the rebels began to revive.

Of course the progress of the war was the constant subject of conversation while I was at New York, and I consequently heard a good deal about it. Before I end this chapter, I think it may prove interesting if I give a slight sketch of the warlike proceedings which had occurred up to this period on the Canadian frontier, as well as some of the proceedings of General Washington and his army.

Lakes Champlain and George, approaching as they do the upper waters of the Hudson, have always been considered the key to the northern provinces from Canada. Their possession has therefore been looked on as of the first importance; and Ticonderoga, the chief fort at the head of Lake Champlain, has been the scene of many bloody encounters. I heard a good deal about the matter afterwards from Edward Fleetwood Pelew, whose brother Israel was long a messmate of mine, and who was himself engaged in the affair I have to relate. General Gates commanded the American forces in the north, and he had strongly fortified Ticonderoga. Our army in Canada was at that time under the command of Sir Guy Carleton, a very brave and dashing officer. The success which Sir William Howe had met with on the seaboard inspired him with an ardent desire to signalise himself in the north; and he hoped to be able to expel the rebels from their posts on the lakes, and, by a triumphant march down the banks of the Hudson, to form a junction with the main body of the British army at New York. To effect this object he fitted out a fleet of small craft of every description on which he could lay his hands on Lake Champlain. It was placed under the command of Captain Pringle. The Americans got notice of what was going forward, and got a fleet together under the orders of General Arnold. Our fleet were ready by the first week in October, and made sail up the lake in search of the enemy. They cruised for some time, and were almost in despair of falling in with the American squadron, believing that it must have run for shelter to the extreme southern point of the lake, when, as with a fair wind they had already passed Valcour Island, they caught sight of the enemy drawn up across the channel between that island and the main. Our flotilla instantly hauled their wind, and stood in to attack the enemy. The Americans, to do them justice, behaved gallantly, and no man could have fought his vessels better than did Arnold; but our force was overpowering, and they got dreadfully cut up. Some Indians were landed on the island, who, getting on their flanks, galled them terribly with their rifles. Still they fought on till darkness came to their aid. Our larger vessels could not get into the channel, or they would have been completely cut up. At night the British squadron had to haul off; and, when morning dawned, it was found that Arnold, and such of his vessels as still kept afloat, had made his escape up the lake. Several of them were, however, overtaken and captured, while others were sunk or run on shore and burnt. Arnold with the remnant took shelter under Ticonderoga. This success was not followed up by Sir Guy, as he found that Ticonderoga was so strongly garrisoned that he could not hope to take it without considerable loss both of men and time, and he would afterwards have had to advance through a difficult country in the middle of winter with a vigilant enemy ever on the watch to harass him. He therefore returned with his army to Montreal.

General Washington, meantime, after he had retreated from New York with his shattered forces, endeavoured to hold the country to the westward on both sides of the Hudson. The greater part of his army occupied a rocky and mountainous district known by the name of the Highlands. There he carried on a sort of Fabian warfare, ever avoiding a regular engagement, always on the defensive, and retreating when pursued. So ill-formed and ill-disciplined were the American forces at this time that he had no other resource than to act as he did. His army was still further weakened by the loss of Fort Washington with a garrison of nearly three thousand men, which was gallantly taken, after a desperate defence, by Lords Percy and Cornwallis, and a body of Hessians under Colonel Rahl, of whom I have before spoken.

Altogether, it seems surprising that our generals should not have been able at this juncture to crush Washington, and put an end to the rebellion. A higher Power than either of the belligerents ruled otherwise.

Chapter Seven.

My command ends.—At sea on board the Orpheus.—On a lee-shore.—Saved.—Sent up Providence River.—Threatened by fire-ships.—Employment of spies.—The old spy and his nephew.—Attacked by fire-ships.—Execution of the spies.—Sail on a cruise with other frigates.—Prizes taken.—A privateer escapes us in a gale.—Chase vessels on shore.—Exposed to heavy fire.—Narrow escape.—My young messmate wounded.

“Well, skipper, I’m afraid our cruise is at an end,” said Delisle, coming into my cabin one morning as I sat discussing such a breakfast as rarely fell in those days to the share of a midshipman before my warm stove.

“Oh, bird of ill omen, why croak you forth such dire intelligence?” I asked, as he threw off his snow-covered coat, and prepared to join me in my meal with a look which made me fear there were not many more such in store for us.

“Because, by the pricking of my thumbs, something evil this way comes, in the shape of the ‘Orpheus,’ of which I caught a glimpse as I came along, standing into the harbour,” he replied, knocking the top off an egg.

We had been reading Shakespeare, and various other literary productions, and had become somewhat poetical in our style of conversation. My messmate’s information was but too true—that very afternoon we received orders to deliver up our prizes to the agents, and to rejoin our ship. With what sorrow of heart did I bid farewell to my neat cabin, my airy sleeping-place, my comfortable sofa, my warm stove, and all the other luxuries with which I had been surrounded; and with what thorough disgust and discontent did I take possession, after my long absence, of my berth on board the old Orpheus! Really, I had no right to complain, and I was truly glad to see many of my shipmates again.

The heavy islands of ice, which came floating down with each ebb, threatening to crush in the bows of the ship, compelled us to move down close to the fish-market, where we were sheltered from them.

On the 20th, having received on board a number of rebel prisoners, whom we were to take round to Rhode Island, we sailed in company with HMS Solebay, Daphne, and Harriet packet, but parted with them off Sandy Hook. Our passengers were in a very sad state of destitution and sickness. Fever soon broke out among them, and it spread rapidly among our crew.

We quickly were doomed also to experience another of the numerous ills which seamen are heirs to. This was a gale of wind which sprung up about midnight from the south-east, catching us most completely on a lee-shore. We had made but little offing, and every minute the wind increased, and we, I saw, were drifting closer and closer onto the coast of Long Island. Captain Hudson, Mr Willis, and Mr Flood, the master, were in earnest consultation.

“What will you give for our chance of saving the ship?” said Delisle to me as we stood holding on to the weather bulwarks, while the spray in dense masses was breaking over us—the ship heeling over till her lee-guns were buried in water with the heavy press of canvas it was necessary to carry to give us a hope of beating off.

“A midshipman’s half-pay for a week and a day, unless the wind shifts or moderates,” I answered. “I believe the old barkie was never in greater peril. If we save the people’s lives we shall be fortunate.”

“So the captain seems to think. I never saw him more anxious,” replied Delisle. “My idea is that we shall have to cut away the masts and anchor. My only consolation is that if we escape with our lives, it is the only part of the coast where we should not to a certainty be made prisoners of war.”

I agreed with Delisle. To anchor would be our only resource, but one on which I feared we could place very little reliance. The anchors might hold; but with the whole roll of the Atlantic tumbling in on us, and the terrific gale there was already blowing, and every instant increasing, I felt that there was small chance of their so doing. Dark and darker grew the night, higher and higher rose the sea, and fiercer and more furious blew the wind. Still the stout ship struggled bravely on; her lee-side pressed deep into the water, while torrents of foam broke over her weather-bow and deluged us fore and aft. It seemed doubtful indeed whether the masts would long stand the tremendous strain put upon them. High above the roaring of the tempest was occasionally heard the ominous voice of the man in the chains as he sung out the depth of water in which we floated, showing that we were slowly though surely shallowing it.

That dark and terrific night will not easily pass from my memory. Captain Hudson had ordered the cables to be ranged in readiness to anchor. The carpenter and his crew were sent for, and ordered to prepare for the last desperate expedient of cutting away the masts. Every now and then, as a bright flash of lightning darted from the sky, they might be seen with their gleaming axes uplifted, ready at a moment to execute the fatal order. Everybody was on deck, for our danger was apparent to all.

“What shall we have to do?” asked little Harry Sumner, as he stood shivering with the cold by my side.

“Obey orders and trust in Providence, my boy,” said I. “If the anchors don’t hold and the ship goes to pieces, we may have to swim for it, and then, Harry, keep an eye on me, and if I can lend you a helping hand, I will. I must not promise too much, for I may not be able to help myself.”

“Thank you, Hurry, thank you. Oh, I am sure you will do all you can for me,” said the boy gratefully.

The coolest man on board was the captain. He stood on the weather-side of the quarter-deck, one hand holding on by a stanchion, the other grasping his speaking-trumpet, his hair streaming from beneath his hat, and his coat-tails fluttering in the gale. I love to picture our brave commander as he appeared at that moment, when he knew the lives of hundreds depended on his calmness and decision.

“By the deep nine,” was heard from the man in the chains. Scarcely had the words been uttered, when down came the tempest on us with redoubled fury, and the wind and sea roared so loudly that it would scarcely have been possible to have heard his voice again. Suddenly there was a lull.

“By the mark eight,” was now heard with startling distinctness. A flash of lightning revealed the captain as he raised his speaking-trumpet to his mouth. We knew what was coming. At that very moment the sails gave a loud flap against the masts, the ship plunged violently, but rose on an even keel. The captain took the trumpet from his mouth. Suddenly the gale backed out of its former quarter, and shifted to the north-west. There was a shout of satisfaction; some few, perhaps, breathed a prayer of thankfulness for our preservation as we ran off from the dangerous coast.

On the 23rd we reached Rhode Island. The fever had spread so rapidly among our men that in a few days we sent no less than ninety of them to the hospital on shore, while we kept an equal number of sick on board. On the 27th the commodore sent us a hundred men from other ships, and ordered us to cruise for a month in Buzzard’s Bay, between New Bedford Harbour and Martha’s Vineyard. The latter quaint-named place is one of the many islands off that coast inside Nantucket Island. The extreme severity of the weather made our cruise thoroughly disagreeable, and much prevented the people from recovering their health; indeed, it considerably increased the number of our sick. In truth, it was very tantalising and provoking to be kept for nearly a week knocking about for no purpose scarcely ten leagues from our port without being allowed to enter it. At last the captain could stand it no longer, so we put back on the 3rd of March, and were forthwith sent up Providence River as an advanced ship. Here we had frequent skirmishes with the enemy, who took a sly pop at us whenever they could, but without doing us much damage. On the 10th of March we received orders to proceed to sea immediately. We sailed accordingly that night, and the next morning captured a sloop from Charleston, bound to Boston with dye and indigo. That night we anchored under Block Island, and for some days cruised about in the hopes of picking up some prizes, I conclude. I fancy that the commodore had received notice that some vessels with valuable cargoes might be expected in the neighbourhood about that time. We anchored in Martha’s Vineyard on the 16th, where some of our youngsters expected to find grapes growing, and were much disappointed on discovering that none were to be found there, especially in March, and two days after we once more returned to Rhode Island without having made another capture. We were quickly sent off again, and, having bagged a prize, returned on the 3rd of April, when we were ordered up the river to relieve the Cerberus as the advance-ship off Providence, our station being between the Island of Prudence and the mainland. A glance at the map will show the number of islands in that fine estuary, which terminates in Providence Bay. On one of them, called the Island of Hope, near which the ship was generally at anchor, to vary the monotony of a sea life we employed ourselves in the cultivation of gardens. Our horticultural knowledge was not very extensive, but we managed during our stay to raise various crops of quick-growing esculents, and on our departure we disposed of our property to our respective brother-officers belonging to the ship which relieved us. Our life was, however, far from one of Arcadian simplicity, for we were constantly aroused by war’s rude alarms, and had every night to row guard in three flat-bottomed boats ahead of the ship, to prevent a surprise. The enemy were ever on the alert, endeavouring to find some means of destroying us. This was but natural, as we were completely putting a stop to their commerce, on which their existence mainly depended. We had, however, a number of spies employed, who brought us information of all the plots formed against us. Some brought us information, influenced by a spirit of loyalty to the king, and a belief that they were serving a good cause; but others were mercenary wretches, who were willing to be employed by those who paid them the highest. The reports of these latter, though it was necessary to employ them, were always received with great caution by our captain. He could scarcely conceal the disgust he felt for them. One morning, about ten days after our arrival, as we were washing decks at sunrise, while I happened to be looking over the ship’s side, I observed a small boat standing towards us from Prudence Island. As she drew near, I saw that there were two men in the boat. They were dressed as ordinary seamen. One was a young man of nineteen or twenty; the other was much older, with his hair already turning grey—a stout, strong-featured, healthy-looking man. The younger man was rather tall, and had a pleasant, honest face. When the sentry hailed them, they asked leave to come on board to see the captain. Captain Hudson was already up. I went to inform him of their arrival, and by his desire conducted them to him. Their manner was frank and open, and they seemed to have made a favourable impression on the captain. When they left the cabin he ordered them to be carefully provided and looked after. I afterwards had much conversation with them. The elder had been a soldier in his youth, and served the king in many parts of the world. They were both imbued with an almost romantic feeling of loyalty. “King George was always a good and kind master to me, and I’m not going to desert him when he most wants me because his ministers choose to do what some of the people of this country don’t like,” said the elder man. “I got a wound in his service in my thigh here, so I can’t march and carry a musket as I did once, or I would have gone down and joined the royalists at New York, but there are other ways of serving his Majesty, though they are somewhat risky, I own; but what of that? every man should be ready to die in a good cause. It’s very bad, though, all this fighting and bloodshed among folks of the same race and kindred, and now, if they’d followed my advice, I don’t think it would ever have come about. As I used to say to my nephew, Amos Weeks here, ‘Amos,’ said I, ‘wait a bit and don’t be in a hurry. Write and petition against the taxes as much as you like. Taxes must be laid on, and somebody must pay them, and if we don’t like them we must petition, as I say; but anything beyond that will be rank treason and rebellion, and that’s wicked and abominable. Suppose this country was to become free and independent as they talk of, what would the people do? Either they must make General Washington a king, or they will soon quarrel among themselves and cut their own throats.’” The old soldier spoke so earnestly, and there seemed to be so much good sense in what he said, that I put it down. He certainly proved himself a very good advocate of the king’s cause. From him we learned that the enemy were about to make a grand attack on us with their fire-ships, and in the hurry and confusion which would necessarily ensue they hoped to enable three of their frigates, which had long been waiting an opportunity, to run past us and to get to sea. That night we were doubly on our guard, though we could scarcely increase the precautions we had already taken. It was very dark, with a strongish breeze blowing down the river. There had been almost a gale in the day, with a heavy rain, which would have afforded the enemy a greater chance of success had we not been on the watch for them. Mr Gaston, our third lieutenant, Delisle, and I had charge of the three boats. Our ears were more likely to serve us than our eyes, considering the thick darkness with which we were surrounded. My boat was the headmost—that is, farther up the river than the rest. Grampus was with me. “Hist, sir, didn’t you hear the chirp of a block?” said he in a whisper. “The lubbers should have taken care to use more grease if they wanted to surprise us.” I fancied I had heard the same sound. We listened breathlessly while the crew lay on their oars. It came from up the river, directly ahead of us. “Ah! there it is again,” said I. For some time we waited without moving, all hands peering into the darkness. At length I thought I discerned one spot darker than the surrounding atmosphere. I gazed at it earnestly. Gradually the spot increased in density till it resolved itself into the hull of a vessel, with canvas set, standing directly down towards us. There could be no doubt that her intention must be to run aboard the Orpheus, and that she must be a fire-ship. “Give way, my lads,” I whispered, steering directly for her bows. The instant we reached them we threw on board the grapnels we had prepared for that purpose, and began to tow her away across the stream. As we did so a fire of musketry was opened on us from her deck, which wounded one of our men. We had no time to reply to it, nor was it repeated, the crew of the fire-ship having taken to their boat. The sound and flash of the fire-arms brought the other boats to our assistance, and they began to pepper away at the retreating boat as she was disappearing in the gloom. In less than a minute she was no longer to be seen. For another instant there was a perfect silence, then suddenly a bright light shot up from the hold of the fire-ship, flames burst forth from her ports and from every quarter, and climbed up her rigging, while fire-balls and all sorts of missiles of destruction leaped forth in every direction, a bright glare extending far and wide over the broad stream showing us our own ship on one side, with her spars and rigging in bold relief, traced against the dark sky; and on the other, towards Providence, it shone on the white sails of three or four large ships and several smaller ones, which we concluded were fire-ships. We fully expected an abundance of hot work. Notwithstanding the great risk we ran of destruction, we towed lustily away till we had got the fire-ship well out into the stream, so that there was no longer any risk of her drifting down on the Orpheus; while fortunately, as we had a long painter, we escaped without injury. We knew that before she reached the other ships she would have burnt out, so we cast off and prepared to grapple with any more of the same ugly customers which might be sent against us. The Orpheus had, in the mean t ime, sent all her boats to our assistance, and together we waited in expectation of the attack; but hour after hour passed away, and when the morning dawned our mysterious and phantom-like enemies had, like the ghosts of romance, disappeared from the landscape. The adventure of the night would have seemed like a dream, had it not been for our wounded comrade and the charred bits of wood which lay scattered about the boat. This night’s work I describe as a specimen of what frequently occurred during our stay in the river. The following night I was sent on shore to land our two spies, that they might learn what were the next movements proposed by the enemy.

“Good-bye, Mr Meeks, good-bye,” said I, as I landed the old soldier; “it is hazardous work you are on, so be cautious.”

“I know that, sir,” said he, “I know that; but the man who would serve his country must be ready to risk life and property, and all he holds dear.”

I have sometimes, long, long since then, thought, if people were but as ready to devote themselves to the service of their Creator as they are body, mind, soul, and strength, for the purpose of carrying out some worldly objects, how much better would it be for their spiritual good, for their eternal welfare!

For several nights after this the enemy were very quiet; no attempt was made with their fire-ships, nor were we aware that their boats ever came near us. We therefore began to suspect that they meditated an attack of greater magnitude than heretofore. We therefore looked somewhat anxiously for the information which we hoped our spies would be able to supply. Nothing was done, however, till the evening of the 20th, when Captain Hudson sent for me. “Mr Hurry,” said he, “Lieutenant Douglas of the ‘Chatham’ has received orders to go on shore at midnight to bring off our spies, the two Meekses. You are to accompany him. It is a delicate service, and I must caution you to be careful that none of your men do anything to give the alarm. I send you on the expedition as I know that I can trust to your discretion.”

I thanked him for the good opinion he was so often pleased to express of me, and went below to prepare for what was before me. I took Grampus and Tom with me, and a picked boat’s crew, and at the hour arranged shoved off from the ship’s side. Mr Douglas had come on board in the afternoon. He had to communicate with a person on shore, while I had to look-out for the spies. It was a darkish night, but there was very little wind, so that it was necessary to muffle our oars in order that our approach might not be perceived. As we pulled over the still waters, in which here and there the reflection of a star might be seen, as it peeped out between the clouds, we could just distinguish the fringe-like tops of the trees which surrounded the sheltered nook towards which we were steering. All was still as death as we approached the shore. We ran into the nook and landed. Two men were left in charge of the boat, and while Mr Douglas proceeded to the place where he was to meet the person he had appointed to see, I led the men through the wood to a spot where two roads met, and where the Meekses had arranged to be in waiting. I whistled twice very low as agreed on, but no one answered. Telling Grampus to wait, I walked along the road in the hopes of meeting our friends; but seeing no one, I returned to await their coming. It occurred to me, that as strangers might be passing it would be unwise to expose my men to view; so I posted them behind a thicket, and sat down where I was myself concealed, and could at the same time command a view along the roads as far as the light would allow. I had remained there fully half an hour, when I heard footsteps approaching at a rapid rate. The person stopped where the road branched off, as if in uncertainty which to take. I was about to rush forward with my men to seize him, when I recognised Mr Douglas. “We shall have to retreat to the boats, I fear,” said he; “some one has given information that we are here, and the neighbourhood is alarmed; but we must wait till the last moment for the poor fellows we were sent to bring off.”

Ten minutes, or rather more, elapsed when we heard footsteps advancing along one of the roads. They came at a leisurely pace, as if the people were in no hurry. I gave the signal. It was answered by the persons approaching. “All’s right,” I observed to Mr Douglas; but almost as I spoke, the dark figures of a body of men could be distinguished in the gloom, turning a corner of the other road. Seeing this, Mr Douglas had no resource but to give the order to our party to retreat, for it was very evident that the enemy far outnumbered us. As we did so, I called to the spies to hasten forward, for I knew that we could no longer remain concealed. Hearing my voice, the two men ran on; but at the same time our foes advanced at a double quick step along the road. I saw that not a moment was to be lost if we would save the lives of old Meeks and his nephew; so, calling on Grampus and Tom, I made a dash forward in the hopes of checking the enemy till we could meet them. Unfortunately the rebels were too quick in their movements for us, and before we could reach the fork of the road they had already gained the same place, and effectually prevented us from saving our friends whom we had too much reason to apprehend had fallen into their hands, unless they had been able to save themselves by flying in an opposite direction. From what I had seen of the old soldier, I feared he was not likely to run even on an occasion like the present. Mr Douglas now hailed me to return, and of course I did so as fast as I could, as I should inevitably have been made a prisoner. As it was we had enough to do to keep our enemies at bay, and had not the darkness prevented them from learning the smallness of our numbers, they might easily have surrounded us. Though they pressed us hard we kept as close together as the nature of the ground would allow, and every now and then, led on by Mr Douglas, we uttered loud cries and shouts, as if we were going to make a rush on them. The stems of the trees also assisted to protect us from the fire which they opened on us, so that not a man was hit. We were not sorry, however, to reach our boats, when we jumped in with no little haste, for the Americans were close upon us. They were almost seizing the bows of the boat before we had time to get out the oars and shove into the stream. One, indeed, had seized the painter, but Tom Rockets dealt him such a blow with his cutlass that he was glad to let go. The enemy now rushed down in numbers to the shore, and began firing away at us as fast as they could load. Fortunately in the darkness our boat offered no very certain mark; but the shot came flying about us, spluttering into the water like a shower of hail. Now and then, thud—that peculiar sound—gave notice that a bullet had struck the boat, but not a man was hit. As soon as we had got a little way off, we pulled up the stream, and then steered for the ship so as to mislead the enemy as to the course we had taken. Long after they must have lost sight of us the flash of their muskets showed that they were still peppering away in the direction in which they supposed we had gone.

We reached the ship without further adventure. Captain Hudson was very sorry to find that we had come off without the spies; but he at once saw that this was owing to no fault of ours.

The next morning, as the first lieutenant, as usual, was sweeping the shore with his glass, an exclamation of horror he uttered made me point mine in the same direction. There, directly abreast of the ship, hung suspended on the branches of a tree scathed by lightning two human forms—one was stout and short, the other tall and slight. There was too much reason to believe that they were the bodies of our unfortunate spies. No one was near them. Solitary they swung on the river shore, a warning to others who might be inclined to follow their example—a sad result of the ruthless necessity of war. They probably had been seized and executed directly after they were captured. We could not blame the Americans. Our generals had frequently been compelled to do the same with their spies whom they had taken, but even this did not put a stop to the system. The sad spectacle I have described saluted our eyes whenever we turned towards the shore; and I, for one, was very sorry for the fate of Meeks and his nephew; but I must confess that we were becoming so accustomed to the sights and horrors of warfare that such sensations lasted but a short time.

I forgot to mention that one of the pieces of information Meeks brought us was that our messmate Kennedy, who had charge of one of the prizes taken off Cape May, had been taken by the rebels, and was now a prisoner of war in their hands. It was with no slight satisfaction that we saw the Greyhound come up to relieve us on the 30th of May, when we made over to our brother-officers belonging to her the full right to all the productions of the gardens we had so assiduously cultivated on the Island of Hope. On the 1st of June we ran down the river and anchored off Newport, and on the 3rd sailed on a cruise towards the Bay of Fundy, in company with the Amazon and Juno frigates. The officers and ships’ companies of the three ships had previously agreed to share the prize-money which might be made on the cruise.

I should be almost afraid of wearying my readers, were I to give a minute account of all the captures we effected and the adventures we met with, but still I do not like altogether to pass them by. Our main object, however, was to intercept the American Commodore Manley, but as he had a force much superior to ours, it was absolutely necessary for us to keep together, or we might have found ourselves very much the worse for the encounter. Had it not been for this, we should have taken many more prizes than we did; indeed, we were compelled to allow numbers of considerable value to pass by without going in chase. On the 26th we took a sloop from Philadelphia bound for Boston with rice. On the 26th we re-took a brig from Oporto, bound to London, which had been captured by a rebel privateer off Scilly. We sent her to New York, but we never heard anything more of her, so that she must either have foundered or have been taken by the enemy. In the latter case the prize-master and crew must have joined them. On the 11th we took a vessel laden with lumber, which we burnt, and on the 14th a sloop with wood, which we gave up to the owners, as they were royalists; and on the 16th we took a brig with fish and lumber from Boston to the West Indies. At length, on the 23rd at daybreak, a flush-deck ship was seen becalmed within two miles of us. We made out that she was pierced for twenty guns, and from her appearance we had no doubt that she was a rebel privateer. The boats were ordered out immediately, but before they were in the water a breeze sprang up, and setting every stitch of canvas she could carry, away she went before the wind. We at the same time made sail in chase with our consorts, which were a little astern of us, and of course we had every hopes of making an important capture. By this time the rebel government had given letters of marque, not only to Americans, but to the inhabitants of various other countries, who, under their flag, had become very troublesome to our trade, and it had become necessary to endeavour to put a stop to the system.

The privateer soon showed us that she had a remarkably fast pair of heels, and it became doubtful, after a couple of hours’ chase, whether we had gained much, if anything on her. Sometimes the wind increased, and then our greater size and wider spread of canvas gave us the advantage, so that our hopes of capturing her rose and fell somewhat as did the breeze.

We had the whole of the day before us, and a day it was of no little excitement. We kept the lead, our consorts following, one on either quarter, to be ready to cut her off, should the breeze shift, and place her to windward. Hour after hour passed, and still we were no nearer to her.

“What chance have we of getting hold of her?” said I to Grampus, who was standing with me forward, keeping a look-out on her.

“Why, sir, do ye see a stern chase is a long chase, as every one knows, but a flaw of wind or a bit of a calm, or somewhat of that sort, may throw her into our power, so that from all I’ve seen, and you know that’s not a little, Mr Hurry, I says never give up a-following an enemy as long as you can keep eyes on her. When once you loses sight of her, why, then its all guess-work, and a chance that you ever claps eyes on her again.”

I ever after remembered Grampus’s observations both when chasing and being chased, and frequently experienced their practical wisdom. Everything was done to increase the speed of the ships, the sails were drenched with water, so that not a whistle full could escape through them, and the hammocks were slung, and shot placed in them, but all was apparently at first to little purpose.

“The rogues are laughing at us,” said Delisle, as he and I paced the deck together, “I wish we could get a calm, and have a chance of boarding them with the boats. They would give us some warm work though, I suspect.”

“I should hope so,” said I. “I have always preferred the excitement of downright fighting to the sort of work we have lately had off Providence.”

“I should think so, indeed!” said he. “I have often thought that if I were made a prisoner, I should die of ennui. How people can exist shut up within the walls of a dungeon has always puzzled me.”

We afterwards had good reason to remember this conversation, and he, poor fellow, sadly to his cost. While we had been speaking, dark clouds had been gathering in the north-west. They now began to form a thick and heavy bank, which rose gradually higher and higher in the sky. There was little doubt that they indicated the approach of a strong wind, but whether or not it would aid us in capturing the chase was a question.

“We shall have something to try our sticks soon, Mr Willis,” said the captain to the first lieutenant; “but we must carry on as long as they will stand, rather than let that fellow escape. So fast a craft as he is will commit no little damage to our trade, if allowed to continue at large.”

“No fear, sir. It is not likely that a rascally rebel will be able ultimately to escape from three of his Majesty’s ships,” answered Mr Willis, who held the Americans in supreme contempt.

“I do not know that,” observed the captain, who had a very different feeling for the foe. “They have shown in many ways that they are not to be despised, and several of their vessels have contrived to give us the go-by.”

“Ay, yes, to be sure; but then they were probably not worth catching,” said Mr Willis, not liking to acknowledge that the enemy had anything to boast of. According to him, every battle they had fought had been lost by them, and the time of their entire destruction was fast approaching. The squall which had for some time been brewing in the westward, now made its advent known by curling up the waves, topping them with foam and swelling out our sails to the utmost from the bolt-ropes. The chase kicked up her heels a little as it caught her up, and then went staggering away before it faster than ever. After her, however, flew our two consorts and, ourselves, and still we felt sure that we should capture her. The sea rose higher and the wind increased, which was all in our favour, and after some time, there could be no doubt that we were gaining on her, but night was now approaching, and the darkness would give her a far better chance than before of escaping.

“Do you think, Mr Willis, we should have a chance of winging her, if we were to send a shot after her?” said the captain to the first lieutenant, as they stood together, watching the chase attentively.

“Certainly I think so!” replied Mr Willis; “at all events, I’ll try, and I won’t fail to do my best.”

One of the bow-chasers was forthwith run out and pointed by Mr Willis himself. For a minute or more he looked along the gun at the chase. At last he fired. The white splinters were seen to fly from her quarter. The result of his first attempt encouraged him to make a second. The gun was again loaded, but when he fired no apparent effect followed. A third time he fired, but if the shot struck, no damage was to be perceived. It was now rapidly growing dark, and Mr Willis was becoming impatient, for uncomfortable doubts began to rise in his mind as to the possibility of the cruiser of the much-despised enemy escaping after all from us. Grampus was standing near him. “Here, my man,” said he, “you have the credit of being one of best shots in the ship—try what you can do in clipping one of that fellow’s wings.”

The old seaman looked gratified at the compliment, and prepared himself to obey. First, however, he cast a hurried glance to windward not altogether devoid of anxiety. I looked in the same direction. There, gathering thickly and close overhead, was the black mass of clouds which had long been driving towards us, the seas looking white and more broken in the increasing gloom. I thought he was about to speak, but turning to the gun he stooped down, before it and applied the match. Scarcely had he fired when its report was echoed by a discharge from the artillery of the clouds, the wind roared in the rigging, the studding sails, which had not been taken in, were blown away like light fleeces from a sheep’s back and carried far-off before the gale. The fore-topgallant sail and fore-topsail sheets were carried away; the ship flew up into the wind, taking the wheel out of the hands of the men, while she almost broached to, creating a scene of confusion which did not often occur on board; over she heeled to the blast; sheets were let fly; the spray in showers broke over her; the voices of Captain Hudson and Mr Willis were heard above the uproar caused by the dashing of the sea, the rattling of blocks, and the howling and whistling of the wind, with the other accompaniments of a sudden squall. When order was somewhat restored, sail decreased, and the ship put on her former course, we once more looked out for the chase. Not a trace of her was to be seen. The dim outline of our two consorts could be perceived on either quarter. They apparently had been thrown into as much confusion as we had from the squall, but were once more with diminished canvas standing in the same direction as before.

“Oh, we shall soon be up with her again,” said Mr Willis, who had gone forward to look-out himself for the chase. “She doubtless lost some of her spars, if not her masts altogether, in the squall.”

“Not so sure of that,” I heard old Grampus mutter as he passed me. “I saw her all a-taunto, running away from us in fine style when we were first caught. She’s given us the go-by, or I’m no seaman.”

All night we ran on, looking out for the chase, and when daylight broke and a hundred eager eyes were glancing round the horizon she was nowhere to be seen. To pursue her farther would have been vain, besides leading us too far from our cruising-ground and risking the main object we had in view.

Returning to our station on the 28th we took two vessels laden with wood, which we gave up as before. On the 4th of July we saw a brig in a calm, about four miles from us. The signal was made for all the boats of the squadron, manned and armed, to be ready to attack her. Lieutenant Moss, of the Juno, had the command of the expedition. Making sure of an easy victory, away we pulled towards the stranger over the smooth shining ocean.

The brig we saw, as we drew near, was heavily armed; her colours were flying, and she seemed prepared not to strike without a blow. As soon as we drew within range of her guns she opened her fire on us. This, of course, only expedited our movements, and we dashed on towards her as fast as the oars could send the boats through the water. The brig’s crew founded their hopes of escape probably on the chance of a breeze springing up, of which there were already some signs, while our aim was to get on board before the wind filled her sails. The rebels fought with desperation, and never relaxed their fire till we were alongside. Two or three of our men had been struck. One lost the side of his face by a round-shot which shaved him more cleanly than he would have wished, and spoilt his beauty for life. With loud shouts and cries our men leaped on board, and in two minutes the brig was ours. She mounted ten carriage guns and twelve swivels, was laden with rum and sugar, and was bound for Boston.

On the 5th we ran a brig on shore after a chase of some hours. From her size and pertinacity in endeavouring to escape, we from the first suspected that her cargo was of value. No sooner had she struck than the squadron hove-to and the boats were ordered to pull in to re-take her. I on this occasion remained on board. We were expecting to see the boats haul off the vessel, when, just as they drew near, a large body of troops were perceived hurrying down to the shore. The soldiers at once began firing away at the advancing boats, but notwithstanding they pulled alongside, drove the crew below, and took possession. We saw them make a gallant effort to tow off the vessel, but in three or four minutes, so heavy became the fire, they were compelled to relinquish the attempt. When they reached the ship we found that three men had been wounded, but happily none were killed.

“A tremendous loss we have had!” exclaimed Mr Heron, who commanded the expedition, with a look of disgust. “She is worth twenty thousand pounds at least, if not much more. It is not every day the rebels have a vessel like her to give us.”

“We must keep a sharp look-out after her, and if she gets off, try to get hold of her another day,” said Mr Willis.

In the evening we were directed to stand close in shore to cannonade and endeavour to destroy her, but scarcely had we opened our fire when a gale of wind sprung up, and we were compelled for our own safety to run to sea. We, however, did not yet give up all hopes of capturing her. A few days afterwards, indeed, she fell into our hands, but we were not a little disappointed to find that the rebels had in the meantime removed the greater portion of her cargo.

Nothing for some days occurred to break the monotony of our existence except innumerable unsuccessful chases which sorely tried our first lieutenant’s temper, and the capture of a prodigious quantity of fish. So abundant was the supply that it was the business of the mate of the dog-watch to see that what were not eaten were thrown overboard every night, to prevent the people from keeping them too long. At length I was engaged in an expedition with more serious results than had for some time occurred.

On the 14th we rounded the end of that narrow neck of land known by the name of Cape Cod, and which, circling round like an arm with its elbow bent, forms a wide and extensive bay. We stood along the eastern shore, eagerly looking into every nook and inlet in which a craft could take shelter. As we got abreast of Cape Cod Harbour we saw three vessels at anchor there—a brig, a schooner, and a sloop. Mr Willis reported them to the captain.

“We’ll stand in and overhaul them, then,” was the reply, and the ship’s course was altered accordingly.

No sooner were we perceived by the three vessels than they slipped their cables and made sail in the hopes of escaping. They steered across to the western shore, either on the chance of finding shelter in some creek, or being able to beat out of the bay, and thus get to windward of us.

“We shall bag the fellows this time at all events,” said Mr Heron, rubbing his hands as we were fast over-hauling the chases.

They did not, however, give in, trusting to a flaw of wind or something else turning up in their favour. The Amazon and Juno, however, by standing more to the northward soon cut off all chance of escape. They were running for the harbour of Truro, but before they could get there we drove them all three on shore at some distance from each other. A loud shout from our crews proclaimed the result of the chase. The boatswain’s shrill whistle sounding along the decks was followed by the order for all the boats to be manned and armed and sent in to get off the vessels. I had charge of a cutter with Grampus and Tom, and little Harry Sumner accompanied me. Our first aim was the brig. We pulled towards her in good order as fast as we well could. It was not till we were close alongside that the enemy showed themselves to defend her. We took no notice of them, though they opened a warmish fire of musketry on us, but, boarding together, got out hawsers, and while some of the boats went ahead to tow her out the crews of the others remained on the deck and kept the enemy at bay. Thus in a few minutes we got her triumphantly afloat, and while she was being towed out from the shore I was sent in my boat to set fire to the sloop which lay nearly a mile from the other vessels. I thought that as the attention of the enemy was engaged with the brig the work would be easy, and pulled boldly towards her. We had got within musket range when up started three fellows from behind the bulwarks and let fly at us. Their aim was good, for each of their shots struck the boat, though happily no one was hit. This salute, however, did not stop our progress.

“Give way, my lads, give way!” I shouted. “We will soon punish them for their audacity.”

They fired several times after this, but without doing us any damage. I was surprised at their boldness in still remaining on board, but on our firing the swivel we had in our bows, accompanied by a round of musketry, they quickly jumped out of sight. As, however, we were close alongside, and just about to hook on to her chains, the mystery was solved by the unwelcome apparition of two or three hundred men, with levelled fire-arms, who appeared mounting a line of sand-banks close to the water, and behind which they had till now remained concealed. The first discharge with which they saluted us knocked over two of my men, and the next wounded two more. In addition to the musketry two pieces of cannon were brought to bear on us, which, unfortunately for us, were very well served. Seeing this, and believing that I and all my people must be killed if we attempted to escape, I turned the boat’s head round and sang out for quarter, and all the disagreeables of a long imprisonment rose up before me. So exasperated, however, were the people on shore that they paid no attention to my request. Sumner had a white handkerchief, and, tying it to a stretcher, waved it above our heads. It was, however, all in vain. The enemy seemed resolved on our destruction.

“Harry, my boy,” said I, “there is no help for it. If I am hit, do your best to carry the boat out. Now give way, my lads! If we can but hold on a little we shall soon be clear.”

Even the wounded men pulled away with all their might except one who was too much hurt to handle an oar. I took his place and put Harry at the helm. The shot fell thick as hail around us, the enemy shouting and shrieking at us like demons. Still we held on. Now another of my men was hit. Suddenly I saw little Harry turn pale. He sat upright as before, but his compressed lips and an uneasy look about the eyes made me fear he was hit.

“Are you hurt, Sumner?” I asked.

“I think so,” he answered; “but never mind, it is nothing, I am sure.”

I was sure that he was hurt, however, very much, and this made me feel more savage against our enemies than anything that had occurred for a long time, but there was no time to stop and examine his wound. I had scarcely a man now left unhurt—most of them seriously so. Two poor fellows let the oars drop from their hands, and sank down in the bottom of the boat. Tom was one of them. Grampus, indeed, was the only man unhurt. He seemed to bear a charmed life, for he had run in his time more risks than any of us without receiving a wound. I was in despair, for I every instant expected to feel a bullet enter my body, and that after all we should fall into the hands of the enemy. The boat, too, was almost knocked to pieces, and it seemed a wonder that she could still swim. The wind, fortunately, was blowing strong off the land.

“We must try and get the foresail hoisted, Grampus,” said I. “If we can, we may do yet.”

“Ay, ay, sir,” he answered, stepping forward over the prostrate bodies of our shipmates to execute the order.

Assisted by two of the men the least hurt, we got the mast stepped.

“Now up with the sail, my men!” I sang out.

At length it was hoisted, though the moment the enemy saw what we were about they seemed to redouble their efforts to destroy us. I breathed more freely as I got the sheet aft, and saw the canvas swelling with the breeze; but even then I knew that a shot might carry away our mast or halliards, or, indeed, send us all to the bottom. Just as I had got all to rights, and was ready to take the helm, poor little Harry, overcome with pain and the loss of blood, sank down by my side. I placed him carefully in the stern-sheets, and Tom Rockets, though badly wounded himself, crawled aft and endeavoured to examine his wound and to staunch the blood which flowed copiously from his side. The bullets began now to fall less thickly about us than before—a sign that we were increasing our distance from the shore. Had the enemy possessed a boat they might have taken us without difficulty, but, fortunately, they had none. Indeed, I have no doubt that their aim was to destroy us completely, as a punishment on us for our attempt to burn their vessel. In spite of the shots which still fell around us, we kept steadily on our course, while occasionally I turned an uneasy glance over my shoulder to see how far we had got from the enemy. At length scarcely a shot reached us; a gentle thud every now and then showing us that those which did so had almost lost their power. I was able now to pay more attention to my young companion. I asked him how he did.

“I am afraid that I am more hurt than I at first fancied,” he replied. “If I die, you will write to my mother, and tell her all about me, will you, Hurry?”

“Oh, don’t talk of dying, my good boy,” I answered, though I felt a choking sensation in my throat as I spoke. “We shall soon be on board, and then you will be properly cared for, and will feel more easy.”

“Oh, I do not complain,” said he, “still, I have an idea that I am mortally wounded. Perhaps it is only fancy, you know, and I am not afraid.”

“That’s right, be a brave boy, and keep up your spirits. You’ve many more years to live, and will be an admiral one of these days, I hope,” said I, though my hopes were far less sanguine than my words. “See, scarcely any of the shots reach us; we shall soon be out of the enemy’s fire.”

He looked up in my face and smiled. One of the wounded men groaned. Harry heard the poor fellow. A look of intense pain passed over his countenance.

“Oh, I wish that we could get to the doctor! Let him look to that poor man before me; I am sure he wants him most. Who is it?”

I told him, “Tom Ogle.”

“Ah, Tom Ogle,” said he. “Don’t give way, my man. We were doing our duty, and there’s One aloft who’ll not forget us if we trust in Him.”

“Bless you for those words, Mr Sumner,” Tom Ogle gasped out between the paroxysms of his pain; “they do a poor fellow’s heart good.”

All this time we were running off the land, with a strong fair breeze, every moment the enemy’s shot falling farther and farther astern. My great fear now was that some of my men would bleed to death before they could receive surgical help. However, they had bound up each other’s wounds in the best way they could. From the enemy we at all events were safe. I did my utmost to keep up the spirits of my men. I was thereby performing, I knew, half the doctor’s work. I had been eagerly looking out in the offing for our squadron. To my intense satisfaction I now made out a sail standing towards us from the northward. I pointed her out to Grampus.

“She’s the ‘Orpheus,’ sir. I knows the look of them taw’sels too well to be deceived,” he answered, after watching her for a few moments.

“You’re right, Grampus. It’s her without doubt,” said I. “Hurrah, my lads! We’ll soon be snug on board the old barkie.”

We neared the ship rapidly. Many eager faces were looking out at us as we got alongside. Poor little Harry Sumner first claimed my attention. I stooped down to lift him up, that he might be handed on deck. His cheeks were blanched, his eyes were closed.

“Oh, dear, oh dear! is the child dead?” exclaimed old Grampus, as he took him from me.

“I fear so,” I answered with a sad heart. “Let the doctor look to him at once.”

One after the other the wounded men were handed up.

“This is sad work, Mr Hurry,” said Captain Hudson, as I went to report myself on the quarter-deck. I told him how it happened.

“We must send in again, though, and punish the rascals,” said he.

Notice was forthwith given that another attempt was to be made to get off the brig. Plenty of volunteers came forward; indeed, they are never wanting when any hazardous work is in hand. The way we had been treated had excited great indignation against the enemy among our people. Job Samson, our old boatswain, volunteered to head the expedition. He had an idea that what others failed to do he could always find out some mode of accomplishing, and, to do him justice, he was ever ready to attempt to carry out his plans in spite of every risk, though he did not invariably succeed. He soon had his expedition ready. We heartily wished him success as he pulled in towards the shore. The Amazon had in the meantime come up, and as she was in-shore of us and drew less water, she was ordered to stand in and cover the attack. We eagerly, with our glasses, watched the proceedings. We could see the enemy, in great numbers, mustering on shore. Probably they did not expect that the Amazon’s guns were going to take part in the fray. She stood in as close as she could venture, and then opened her fire: but the enemy, nothing daunted, returned it manfully from an earth battery, which had been thrown up near the brig. In the meantime, in the face of this fire, old Samson advanced boldly to the attack; but round-shot and musket-balls are stubborn things to contend against, and the boatswain seeing, however easy it might be theoretically to capture the brig, that practically, if he attempted it, he should lose the boat with himself and every man in her, very wisely resolved to return on board, and wait for another opportunity of signalising himself. We afterwards found that, in this instance, the grapes really were sour, as the sloop and schooner had taken in the most valuable part of the brig’s cargo, and that she had remaining on board only ninety tons of salt. We made several attempts during the afternoon to cut out these vessels, but so well guarded were they from the shore by riflemen and flying artillery, that after all our exertions we were compelled to abandon the attempt. Happily, however, no one was hit except those who had been wounded in my boat. In the evening, before turning in, I went round to see how the poor fellows were getting on. They all received me cheerfully.

“We’re better off, sir, than if we had been boxed up in a Yankee prison, even though as how we’ve got some eyelet holes through us, d’ye see?” said Bob Nodder, who was the most severely wounded of any of the party. He observed that I was grieved to see the sufferings they were enduring.

“It could not be helped, Mr Hurry. You did your best for us, and if you had not kept cool, sir, we might every one of us have been riddled with rifle-bullets.”

I felt still greater pain when I went to the side of little Harry Sumner’s cot. He was in the officers’ sick-bay, and the doctor had done his best to make him comfortable. He was slumbering, so I did not speak. I stood for some minutes watching his youthful countenance. It was almost feminine in its beauty—so clear, so fair, so free from the effects of the evil passions which distort and disfigure so often the features of those of older years. His long light-brown hair had fallen off his clear broad forehead, and his lips were parted, and moved slightly, as if he were speaking to himself. A sickly gleam of light from the ship’s lanthorn, which hung from a beam above, fell on his countenance, and gave it a hue so pallid that I thought the shades of death were fast gathering over him. My heart sank within me. Were his anticipations, then, of evil so soon to be realised? Of evil? Would it, indeed, be an evil to him, poor child, to be removed from all the temptations to vice, from the scenes of violence and wrong with which he was surrounded? I felt it would not, and still I could not bear the thought of losing him; and there was another, far, far away, who would mourn him still more—his mother. Who would have the courage to tell her that she would see her boy no more? I trusted that I might not have the painful task to perform. I prayed earnestly, for his widowed mother’s sake, that he might recover; that he might go through his fiery trials in the world unscathed; that he might withstand the world, the flesh, and the devil, and, through the merits of our Master, attain eternal happiness in the end. The surgeon entered the sick-bay. I signed to him that the boy was sleeping.

“What do you think of his case, doctor?” said I with an anxious face. “Will he recover?”

“If fever does not set in he’ll do,” answered the medico. “McCallum will keep a constant watch on him during the night. He’ll call me if any change takes place. Ye need not fash yourself, Hurry; the boy is in no danger, I tell you.”

These words consoled me. Still I was not perfectly satisfied. The heart of a sailor, far removed as he is from the social influences of the shore, looks out for something on which to set its more tender affections.

I felt for that lone boy as if he had been a young brother or sister. My feelings were, I dare say, shared by many of my messmates. We most of us, if not cast originally in the same mould, had by circumstances become shaped very much alike as to the inner man; the same prejudices, the same affections, the same passions, the same ideas of honour, and I will say the same tender feelings and generous impulses, were shared by most of us alike. But I was speaking of Harry Sumner. Several times during my watch below I turned out to see how he was getting on. McCallum reported favourably of him; so, tolerably contented, I went back to my hammock and slept soundly.

Chapter Eight.

Orpheus in Cape Cod harbour.—Sent on shore with flag of truce.—Polite reception.—Camp attacked.—A magistrate offers himself as a hostage.—Our captain’s magnanimity.—My dying messmate.—At sea.—Thirty rebel vessels captured.—Doubt whether this will induce the colonists to return to their allegiance.

Varied are the changes of a seaman’s life—I found them so, at all events. An episode in my history was about to occur, of which I little dreamed.

After the brush I have described with the enemy’s batteries, the squadron came to all anchor. On the evening, however, of the 15th of June, the Orpheus was ordered to get under weigh, and proceed to Cape Cod harbour.

When the sun arose in the morning, the inhabitants of the town, to their no small dismay, found us anchored within gun-shot of their houses. I was just dressed when Captain Hudson sent for me.

“Mr Hurry,” said he, “you are to go on shore with a flag of truce. Inquire for the mayor or chief magistrate, or authorities of some sort. Tell them that we are in want of water and refreshments of various sorts, that we are perfectly ready to pay for everything we have, and then politely inform them that we are resolved, at all events, to have what we require; and that if they decline supplying us, or in any way molest us, we will knock their town about their ears and take what we want by force.”

I signified that I clearly understood my orders, and, quaffing a cup of a villainous compound called tea, and putting a piece of biscuit into my pocket, I tumbled hurriedly into my boat and shoved off. It took me about twenty minutes to reach the landing-place before the town, whence the boat had been observed approaching, and the very people I was in search of were ready to receive me. The principal magistrate was a very dignified old gentleman, with silver buckles on his shoes, velvet small-clothes, a three-cornered hat on his head, and a silver-mounted sword by his side. I did not expect to encounter such a personage in so out-of-the-way and rough-and-ready sort of a place.

“May I ask, sir, to what cause we are indebted for the honour of a visit from the King of England’s ships?” said he, bowing low.

I thought that there was more of mock humility than of respect in his manner, though. I delivered the message the captain had given me.

“Certainly, sir, certainly,” replied my friend, smiling: “the arguments you use are incontrovertible under our present circumstances. I doubt not that they will make all the inhabitants of this place true and faithful servants of King George.”

I was rather amused than offended with his manner, and was pleased that I had to deal with a gentleman instead of a lout.

“Do not let us weigh the force of the arguments, sir,” I replied. “I shall be perfectly satisfied if I have your word that you will not allow any attempt to be made to molest our watering party, and will collect for us any provisions we require.”

I gave him a list the purser had supplied me with.

“All your demands shall be complied with. You have my word for it, sir,” said he, bowing as before.

This matter being settled, I pulled back to the ship. The watering place was some little way from the town. The signal was made for the boats to take the watering party on shore. It was considered necessary at the same time, as a precautionary measure, to send a strong body of men on shore to protect the others, and, accordingly, a hundred marines and two hundred seamen from the three ships were told off for that purpose. We certainly had rather a warlike than a peaceable aspect as the squadron of boats made for the shore.

We were met, as we landed, by our friend the mayor with a flag of truce. He came to inquire why we approached in so warlike a guise. Mr Willis, who commanded the party, replied that, while we did not wish to injure others, we always liked to be in a position to take care of ourselves. Satisfied with this answer the mayor took his departure. A wood was before us. A succession of sandy hummocks were between it and the shore. Among them we made our bivouac. The spring from which we were to fill our casks was on the borders of the wood.

According to rule, as we were in an enemy’s country, we placed the usual lines of sentries, while the seamen, as rapidly as they could, filled the casks and rolled them down to the boats. At night we were compelled to knock off work, so we lighted our camp-fires and made ourselves as comfortable as circumstances would allow. Delisle, Drew, Nicholas and some midshipmen of the other ships were seated with me on the ground, in the neighbourhood of a fire, more that we might have its light than its warmth, and superintend the cooking of some steaks which we had resolved to have for supper. Tom Rockets was acting under our orders, and boiling the kettle to brew some punch. We were a very jolly party. Several of us had not met since we used to assemble on board my prize at New York in the winter, and we had had a good deal of knocking about since then. Many a tale was told, and many a jovial song and not a few sentimental ditties were sung, echoed by the seamen who sat grouped about. Thus hour after hour passed by, and we felt no inclination to lie down. I dare say we looked very picturesque as the light of the fires fell on us: the seamen scattered about in every easy attitude; the piled arms of the marines; the men themselves so different to the sailors; the bayonets of the sentries in the distance; the yellow sand-hills; the sea, calm and solemn, flashing every now and then with phosphorescent light; and then overhead the dark mysterious vault of heaven, studded with stars innumerable, all speaking of the might, the majesty, the power unbounded of the Creator. One by one my messmates dropped off to sleep. I lay on my back for some time contemplating the magnificent spectacle. I had often gazed on the stars before. I had taken the altitudes of many; I had measured the distance of one from the other; I had steered my course by them over the ocean; but then I had looked on them only as useful appendages to our globe. Now, as I gazed, they seemed to float—beauteous globes in the pure ether, altogether independent of the puny world we call our own. How far more pure and brilliant did they appear than in the misty clime of old England! I began to envy the Americans the advantage they possess over us.

My meditations were rudely and suddenly interrupted by the sharp rattle of musketry, and a quick succession of reports in return. Every man in an instant was on his feet. All flew to their arms and hurried to the front. The rattle of musketry increased, and the bullets came flying about our ears, while our advanced sentries retreated rapidly in on the main body—I might have said they ran as fast as their heels could carry them—shouting out that the enemy in strong force were pressing hard upon us. Mr Willis formed the marines in the centre, with the blue-jackets as flanking parties in readiness to receive the enemy. We had not long to wait before their dark forms in dense masses could be seen climbing over the sand-hills, threatening not only our front, but both our flanks.

“We are outmatched: I suspect we have been outwitted by the rascals,” said Delisle, who stood near me; “I’ll never trust these rebels again.”

“I cannot make it out,” I answered; “I thought we could have placed perfect confidence in the word of that old gentleman I met in the morning.”

We had, however, no time to discuss the matter; for every moment the fire grew heavier, and we saw that we were far outnumbered by the enemy. Now, under other circumstances, this might have been a matter of little moment, for, had we advanced, we might have gained an easy victory; but we at present had nothing to gain by fighting, and should we have found ourselves caught in a trap, and been compelled to lay down our arms, we knew that our loss would be very seriously felt by the remainder of our ships’ companies. We therefore, by as heavy fire as we could maintain, kept the enemy at bay, and retreated in good order to our boats, vowing vengeance against them for the treachery of which we supposed they had been guilty. Strange as it may seem, very few of our men were hurt, and none were killed. The rebels, as is generally the case with unpractised troops, had fired high, so that most of their shot had gone over our heads. We embarked with all our casks, and quickly got on board our ships, expecting next morning to have the satisfaction of battering away at the town till not a brick should stand to afford shelter to the treacherous inhabitants.

My first inquiry on getting on board was for Harry Sumner. He had been going on well, but had frequently asked to see me. Thinking he might be awake, I went to the side of his cot. He, however, was sleeping. He looked very pale and thin. A few hours of suffering had altered him much. I was going away when I heard him whisper my own name. “See, mother dear, be kind to him; and you, Julia, will love him, for he was kind to brother Harry. You’ll not turn him away when I am gone—gone on a long, long voyage, you know. You’ll love him for my sake, both of you. He’ll talk to you sometimes about Harry. There, there, mother dear, don’t weep; we’ll meet again, you know;—yes, yes, after my long voyage. Don’t cry, Julia dear, don’t now—don’t?”

Thus he went on. I felt ready to cry myself, I know. I had not heard him speak of his little sister—I could easily guess the reason—he would run the risk of having her name profaned by careless lips. At length he was silent. I slipped away. Poor little fellow! in spite of what the doctor said, I guessed that he at all events thought himself dying. I trusted that he might be mistaken. With a heavy heart, though, I left him and turned into my hammock, where in a very few minutes I was sound asleep.

The word had already been passed along the decks to prepare for action, and we fully expected that in a few minutes the fun would begin, when a boat was seen coming off from the shore with a flag of truce. It seemed a matter of doubt whether it should be received after the way we had been treated by the rebels; but Captain Hudson resolved that he would hear what they had to say for themselves before he proceeded to extremities. The old gentleman with whom I had spoken the day before, and several substantial-looking personages were in the boat. They evidently felt themselves in no trifling difficulty, and saw that it would require the management of the most important people in the place to save the town. Captain Hudson at first, wishing to give them a fright, refused to listen to any of their explanations.

“A truce had been agreed on, and while we were acting with perfect good faith and peaceableness, your people most unjustifiably attempted to destroy us. I give you half an hour to remove the women and children, and then expect the consequences of your treachery,” said he, drawing his sword-belt tighter round his waist, and turning on his heel with a look of scorn.

“Hear me, sir,” said the old gentleman, stepping forward. “We had, on my honour, nothing whatever to do with the outrage of which you complain. The people who attacked you were those whose vessels you have so wantonly destroyed. They came to revenge themselves. When they found that we had pledged ourselves to preserve the peace they returned quietly homewards. If you wish to complete the watering of your ships we will in no way molest you, and we will supply you with all the provisions you require.”

“So you said before,” replied Captain Hudson. “How can I depend on the fulfilment of your agreement?”

“I for one, and I dare say others will be ready to remain in your hands as hostages till our agreement is fulfilled,” answered the old gentleman.

Captain Hudson, who was generous as he was brave, would not listen to this proposal; but, stretching out his hand, he answered frankly, “No, no, sir; I will not put you or your friends to this inconvenience. I fully trust to your word. Go on shore, and keep your combatively-inclined countrymen from attacking us, unless they want to have your town burnt, and by the evening we shall probably have relieved you of our company.”

I never saw people’s faces brighten up more rapidly than did those of our rebel visitors when they heard these words. It was like the clearing away of a thunder-cloud from the sky in summer. They were ready to promise all sorts of things, and to supply us with all we desired; and, to do them justice, they amply fulfilled their word. We completed our water, got an abundant supply of fresh provisions, and sailed again that evening on our cruise.

On the 21st of July we took a schooner from Bilboa to Boston with cordage and canvas, and on the 22nd re-took a brig from Quebec to London in ballast; on which day the Amazon parted company and sailed with the prizes for New York.

On the 24th we took a schooner from Boston to the West Indies with fish and lumber; on the 25th a brig from Martinique with rum and molasses; on the 26th a schooner from Boston to the West Indies with lumber, and on the same day chased a large ship close into Boston light-house; but she effected her escape into the harbour.

On the 31st the Amazon rejoined us, and informed us that she had on her passage recaptured a large ship from Jamaica to London with rum and sugar, which had been made prize of by the rebels, and that she had sent her into Halifax.

On the 1st of August, at sunrise, a schooner was reported in sight. We accordingly made sail in chase; but she seemed in no ways inclined to be captured, and, setting every stitch of canvas she could carry, she began to walk through the water at a great rate. We soon saw that we should have to put our best leg foremost to come up with her. This to the utmost of our power we did.

I have already described many chases, so I will not enter into particulars. Hour after hour passed, and we seemed to be no nearer to her; still we had not lost ground, and, from her pertinacity in endeavouring to get away from us, we of course fancied that she was the more worth having. The longest day must have an end, and so had this. At its termination, when night was coming on, we were very little nearer the chase than at daybreak. Still we hoped that a shift of wind might enable us to get up with her, or that a calm might come on and allow us to reach her with our boats. But neither one thing nor the other occurred. Night came down upon us, and not the sharpest pair of eyes on board could pierce through the dark mantle which shrouded her. Some thought they saw her stealing off in one direction; others declared they saw her steering an opposite course. The result was that when morning broke, our expected prize had escaped us, and we were compelled to stand back and rejoin our consorts, like a dog with his tail between his legs. We had hopes, however, of being able in some degree to indemnify ourselves for our loss, when, on the 2nd of August, about two hours before daylight, the shadowy outline of a ship was seen dead to leeward between us and the land, the wind being somewhere from the south-west. Now she was there, ghostlike and indistinct, a spirit gliding over the face of the waters; now as I looked she had disappeared and I could scarcely believe that I had seen her.

“Can you make her out?” said I to Grampus, who was a quarter-master in my watch. The old man hollowed his hands round his eyes and took a long steady gaze into the darkness ahead.

“I did see her just a few minutes afor’ you spoke to me, sir, but smash my timbers if I sees her now!” he exclaimed, suiting the action to the word. “Where is she gone to?”

“She has altered her course or a bank of mist is floating by between us,” I suggested.

“That’s it, sir,” said he; “I wouldn’t be surprised but what she’d heave in sight again afor’ long, except she’s one of those craft one hears talk of, aboard of whom there’s no living man with flesh and blood to work them. If so be she is, I’d rather not fall in with her.”

I laughed. “No fear of that,” said I; “she has been reported to the captain, and we shall be making all sail in chase presently. We shall then soon find out what she’s made of.”

“Much as we did the schooner two days ago,” muttered Grampus, as I left him. “I don’t know what’s come over the ship that she don’t walk along faster.”

The stranger had been reported to the captain, who very soon came on deck, when all sail was packed on the ship in chase. The stranger, for some time, did not appear to be aware of our vicinity; indeed, we could frequently scarcely make her out through the darkness. At length, however, she discovered that an ugly customer was near her, and lost no time in setting every stitch of canvas she could carry, and running directly off before the wind. By this time we had got near enough to see that she was a ship, and of considerable size.

“That craft carries a good many hands, I suspect, by the smart way in which she made sail,” I heard Mr Willis observe to the captain. “I should not be surprised if she proves a privateer, or so-called ship of war belonging to the rebel government. To my mind, we shall do well to treat all the rascals we find on board such craft as pirates, and trice them up to their own yard-arms.”

“You forget, Mr Willis, that two can play at that game,” answered the captain. “The rebels have pretty well shown that they are in earnest, and have established a right to respect at all events. I don’t think hanging them will bring them to reason. Let us treat them as open and gallant enemies, and if we cannot make them fellow-subjects, at all events we may induce them to become some day our friends again. I confess to you I am sick of this sort of warfare. We must do our duty, and take, sink, and destroy all the craft belonging to the misguided people we find afloat, but there is neither honour nor glory to be obtained by the work, and as for the profit, I would rather be without it. Bah! I’m sick of such fratricidal work.”

“I can’t say that I see things quite in the light that you do, sir,” said the first lieutenant. “The British Government make laws, and it is the duty of British people to obey them; and if they don’t, it’s our business just now to force them to it.”

“Your logic is unanswerable, Willis,” replied Captain Hudson, turning away with a sigh. “There can be no doubt what our duty is, however painful it may prove.”

I believe that many officers thought and felt like my gallant and kind-hearted captain, and yet not a more loyal man, or a more faithful subject of his sovereign, ever stepped the deck of a ship of war.

As the first gleam of day appeared from beneath a dark canopy of clouds, and shone across the leaden water, its light fell on the royals and topgallant sails of a large ship, with studden sails alow and aloft, running before the wind directly for the American coast. Smoothly as she glided on, and rapidly as she ran through the water, in all the pride of symmetrical beauty, she was in a very critical position. As I looked at her I bethought me she presented no inapt simile to a careless youth rushing over the sea of life regardless of all the dangers which surround him, and with the pit of destruction yawning before him. Haul her wind and fight us she dared not, for we should have blown her speedily out of the water; no friendly port that she could possibly make was under her lee. The only hope, therefore, her crew could have had of escaping was to run the ship on shore and to abandon her. This it was our object to prevent them doing. The usual devices for increasing our speed were resorted to. Every spar that could carry a sail was rigged, while the canvas almost swept the water on either side of us, but all to little purpose, it seemed. If we increased our speed, so did the chase, and not an inch was gained. As the day grew on, the breeze freshened, and at noon some on board asserted that we had begun to overhaul her. We were all of us on deck as often as we could, for she afforded far more subject of interest than the ordinary lumber-laden merchant craft it was our usual lot to chase. The clouds which had obscured the sky at sunrise rolled gradually away; the sun shone down on the blue ocean with undimmed splendour, glittering on the long lines of foam which the two ships formed as they clove their way through it.

I was, among others, watching the chase when McCallum came up to me.

“Sumner wants to see you, Hurry,” said he; “I think a little talk with you will do him good. He is very low, left so many hours by himself, and he does not sleep much.”

Our young messmate had been progressing favourably, according to the doctor’s report, since he was wounded, but he was nervous and fanciful, poor little fellow! and wanted more tender nursing than the rough, albeit kind-hearted, treatment he could obtain on board. Captain Hudson would gladly have landed him, could he have found any friends on shore willing to take charge of him; but as this was impossible, all circumstances would allow was done to make him comfortable. I sat myself down on a stool by the side of his cot, and told him all that was going forward on deck.

“I wish that I could be about and doing my duty again,” said he; “I’m weary of being boxed up here below.”

“I should be glad if you could get sent home, and have your mother and sister to nurse you till you are strong and well.”

“Who told you that I had a sister?” he asked quickly.

“You did, surely, Harry,” I answered; “how else should I have known it?”

“Oh, I never spoke about her, I’m sure!” said he earnestly. “She is such a little angel, Hurry, that I could not bear to have her name uttered by any of our fellows in the way they speak of each other’s sisters and female friends.”

“Trust me, indeed, I will never mention her,” I answered, appreciating his delicacy, though I felt a strong desire to see the little girl he praised so highly. I did not reflect that her portrait was painted by a loving brother. I got him to talk more about her, and when his heart was opened he seemed never tired of the theme. He told me how she was two or three years older than himself; how she had watched over him and instructed him in all that was good, and how bitterly she grieved at his going away to sea, and much did he blame himself for having often appeared ungrateful for her love and affection. Often in a night-watch did my thoughts recur to Julia Sumner. It was a midshipman’s fancy, and perhaps a folly, but it was very excusable, I cannot help thinking even at the present time.

Our conversation was interrupted by the report of one of our bow-chasers: I sprang on deck. We had got the chase within range of our guns, and we were not likely to let them remain inactive. Still she stood on; not a trace nor a sheet did she slack; and as our gunnery was not first-rate it must be owned, we could not as yet hope to do her much damage.

“We have gained on her considerably since you went below,” said Delisle, whose glass was fixed on the chase, watching the effect of our shot. “In another hour, if the wind holds, we shall get her well under our guns, and then she’ll have very little more to say for herself.”

“Land ahead!” shouted the look-out from aloft. I with others went to the mast-head to ascertain its distance. We judged it to be the land about Cape Cod, some fifteen miles or so away. It would take us a couple of hours to get up with it. Evening, however, was now coming on, and it would be dark before we could hope to reach it. We watched the chase more anxiously than ever; the prospect of bringing her to before she should reach the shore was every instant growing less. Those who manned her were no cowards. As we were watching her, her stern-ports opened, and a couple of shots came hissing by us. It was a desperate chance. Her object was to cripple us, and if she could do so, perhaps she hoped to haul her wind, and, favoured by the darkness, to creep away from between us and the shore. We fired our bow-chasers as often as we could in return, and more than one shot told with damaging effect. Still every injury was repaired as soon as received. The land, seen under the glow of the setting sun, was growing more and more distinct, and by the time the shades of evening came over us we were near enough to distinguish it and the chase, now in dangerous proximity to its sands.

The chase had now lasted fifteen hours—another hour would decide the point. It soon passed. It was a moment of intense interest. Every man was at his station. Hands were in the chains with the lead. We were nearer the coast than under other circumstances we would willingly have been. The chase stood on with everything set. One felt it a grievous pity that so beautiful a fabric should be doomed to destruction. Her striking would give us time to haul off. On she glided, her symmetry unimpaired. In another moment her tall masts rocked to and fro; a loud crashing and tearing, even at that distance, reached our ears.

“Down with the helm!” shouted Captain Hudson. “Haul aft the starboard sheets! Flatten in the starboard braces! Give her the starboard broadside!”

These and other orders to bring the ship on a wind followed in quick succession amid the roar of our guns, which sent the shot crashing into the unfortunate chase. As soon as the ship was put about she stood back on the other tack, pouring in a second and still more destructive broadside. Again the ship was put about; once more the starboard broadside was loaded, and as we came abreast of the stranded chase, fired into her with deadly effect.

“Boats away!” was now the order. The men, with cutlasses by their sides and pistols in their belts, sprang into them. Mr Willis led the expedition: not a moment was to be lost. The stranger must be boarded before the crew could recover from the effects of our broadsides, or people would come off from the shore to defend her. She had fallen almost broadside on to the beach, and on the other side the sea was washing over her. We pulled round, and boarded under her counter, cutlass in hand. A slight resistance only was made by her captain and officers and some of the crew. A few were cut down, and the rest retreated forward, and escaped on shore by a warp, which had previously been carried there, no one attempting to stop them. As with lanterns in our hands, we wandered over the ship, everywhere signs were visible of the cruel effect of our broadsides. In the cabin lay an officer and two men. We thought they were wounded. We threw the light on their countenances; they had been dragged there by their shipmates to be out of the way, probably, and had died as they lay. Poor fellows! they had fought their last fight—they were dead. Not a thing was found on board. A glance showed Mr Willis that it would be impossible to get the ship off, so he ordered us to set fire to her in every direction. Having done so, and left the dead bodies to be consumed in a not ignoble funeral pile, we hurried to the boats. We had been taught by a former catastrophe not to delay too long. As we pulled away, the flames, climbing up the masts and spars; to which the canvas still hung, formed a magnificent pyramid of fire, which grew and grew in height till it seemed to reach the very skies. It was a fine spectacle, but a finer was to come. She was still burning when we got back to our ship, and the boats were hoisted in. I watched the conflagration from the deck. The fire threw a ruddy glare over the sand-hills and the dark woods beyond, and by its light we could see people watching, undoubtedly with bitter hearts, the destruction of their property. Without a moment’s warning, while the conflagration was at its height, the whole mass of flame seemed to be lifted together like a huge fire-work—then it spread far and wide, forming a fiery canopy of mushroom shape, and breaking into a thousand fragments, came hissing down into the surrounding ocean, while a few burning embers alone remained to mark the spot where the tall ship had lately been—a pretty night’s work for the officers and crew of his Majesty’s ship Orpheus. I don’t know that the thought of what we had been about disturbed the rest of any of those who enjoyed the luxury of turning into their hammocks. The next morning a boat with a flag of truce was sent on shore to learn particulars of the vessel we had destroyed. A number of persons were collected in the neighbourhood of the wreck, and, as may be supposed, they did not look very affectionately at us; but flags of truce were always respected, in spite of the animosity which was daily increasing between the belligerents, and an officer stepped forward to know what we wanted.

We told him our errand. “Tell your captain,” said he, “that he has done good service to his government, and saved the capture of many a rich merchantman, if I mistake not. The ship you have destroyed was the ‘Wilks’ privateer, mounting twenty guns—six-pounders—commanded by as brave a man as ever stepped, Captain John Williams, and bound into the English channel on a six-months’ cruise. If it is any satisfaction to you, you may say that she was only off the stocks five weeks. There’s the captain; he’ll never break biscuit more, nor will several of our people who were drowned coming on shore. There’s all that remains of poor Captain Williams.”

He spoke with bitterness, and, lifting a flag, exposed the form of a man in an officer’s uniform. He had been wounded, it appeared, by one of our broadsides, and carried on shore by his crew. I was not sorry, having received the information we were ordered to obtain, to get away from the scene of the catastrophe. This was our finishing stroke in the Bay of Fundy. During our cruise there it appeared by the log-book that we had seen ninety rebel vessels of various descriptions, of which we had either taken or destroyed thirty-three sail—a highly satisfactory amount of mischief to have committed in so short a time—but it had no effect in making the Americans loyal, or increasing their love for their British brethren.

Chapter Nine.

Recommended to Sir Peter Parker.—Join Chatham with Grampus and Tom Rockets—My messmate O’Driscoll.—Appointed to command Pigot tender.—Cruise with O’Driscoll.—Chase and capture a schooner.—Find two ladies on board.—New style of existence.—Discover skipper’s plot to re-take his vessel.—Madeline Carlyon and Mrs Tarleton.—Caught in a heavy gale.

One forenoon a midshipman from HMS Chatham came on board, with a letter from the admiral, Sir Peter Parker, to Captain Hudson. The Chatham was at that time Sir Peter’s flag-ship. The midshipman was of course asked below and pressed to stop for dinner. In a remarkably short space of time he made himself at home with all hands. He had a very red head of hair, very red eyes, and very red face indeed. I have never met a redder person, but he was far from ugly, and his countenance was brimful of good-nature and humour. He and I quickly became friends. He caught my name.

“Faith, that’s not a bad name you’ve got of your own,” said he. “Mine is Patrick O’Driscoll. If it happens not to be particularly well known to fame just yet, I purpose to make it as notorious as it was in the good old days in my native land.”

While O’Driscoll was entertaining us with some racy anecdotes I was sent for by Captain Hudson into his cabin.

“Take a seat, Mr Hurry,” said he, in his usual kind way. “I have an offer to make which I hope will prove satisfactory to you. Sir Peter Parker has applied to me for some mates and midshipmen, and I have especially named you, as I am sure you will do credit to my recommendation. He has asked also for some of my people, and as you seem to have attached to you old Nol Grampus and Tom Rockets, they may, if they wish it, accompany you, for I like to see an officer with followers. It speaks well for both parties. I have not yet determined who else I shall send. I have recommended you because I have no doubt that you will get a step by the change.”

I warmly thanked my captain for the kind interest he had shown in my welfare. And here let me pay a just tribute to the character of my old commander. A more kind-hearted gentleman, or a braver or better officer never walked the deck of a man-of-war. I was sorry to leave my messmates of the Orpheus; but for the reason Captain Hudson gave me, the opportunity of serving under so distinguished an officer as Sir Peter Parker was not to be lost. I will pass over all my leave-takings. Midshipmen are not much addicted to the sentimentals. Let me be supposed alongside the Chatham, accompanied by Nol Grampus, Tom Rockets, and the chest which contained all my worldly possessions. Those possessions were, by-the-bye, considerably decreased in quantity and value since I left my paternal mansion two years before.

On stepping on board I was met by my red-haired friend.

“Ah! Hurry, my boy, it’s myself then is glad to see you!” he exclaimed, squeezing my fingers and wringing my hand with a vehemence almost sufficient to dislocate my wrist.

“Happy to meet you,” I answered, not letting him discover that he had hurt me.

This demonstrative mode of greeting was a trick of his, I found, to try, as he said, what people were made of. Sometimes, however, he caught a Tartar to his cost. The Chatham’s midshipmen were a more rollicking set than my late shipmates. However, I knew comparatively but little of them, for, as it turned out, during the greater part of the time I belonged to the ship I was away on detached duty. Scarcely had I joined her, when I was sent on shore in command of a party of men to clear a transport lying in Rhode Island. While I was engaged in this far from pleasant duty I had to put up at the Cat and Fiddle Tavern, kept by a certain Mrs Grimalkin. To cover her sympathy with the rebels she used to exhibit on all public occasions an exuberance of loyalty which I thought rather suspicious. By watching her narrowly I was not long in discovering that she kept up a constant communication with the enemy, and gave them notice of all our proceedings. However, once knowing this, I was on my guard, and used to amuse myself by telling her all sorts of wonderful tales of what we had done, and what it was proposed to do to bring the country to subjection. I hope that I was the means also of sending some of the American cruisers to look after merchantmen which had gone in totally different directions, and of making others keep clear of fleets which had no existence.

Mrs Grimalkin was a Dutch woman by extraction, and retained the appearance and many of the habits of her ancestors. Numberless were the petticoats she wore, and unceasing were the ablutions which her clean-tiled floors received. She was in the main not a bad old soul, and I dare say she considered herself perfectly justified, in consideration of the cause I served, in charging me a preposterous amount for my board and lodging while I resided under her roof.

Having cleared the transport, I returned on board. A few days afterwards Sir Peter sent for me, and expressing his satisfactions with what he had observed of my conduct, appointed me to the command of the Pigot tender, the officer who had hitherto had charge of her being on the sick list. A midshipman’s berth is a very jolly place, but still there is nothing like being captain of one’s own ship, so thanking the admiral for the good opinion he had formed of me, with a light heart I hurried below to prepare for my change of quarters. I had not been thus engaged many minutes, when I was joined by O’Driscoll, with a broad grin on his countenance.

“Well, brother skipper,” said he, “how do you feel with your new dignity?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Why, faith, that I’ve got command of the ‘Lady Parker,’ a very tidy craft, and that we are to cruise in company. Arrah, now—won’t we have a jovial time of it, my jewel!”

“I hope so,” said I; “if we don’t happen to meet with poor Luscombe’s ill-luck. There are two sides to every question, remember.”

“Arrah, now. Never look at the reverse of a pleasing picture, Hurry,” he replied. “Because Luscombe met with ill-luck, we have a better chance of good luck, do ye see. So now let’s get aboard our respective ships. I feel wonderfully grown since I received my appointment.”

Luscombe, one of our master’s mates, had, while in charge of a schooner, fitted out as a tender, been a short time before captured by the enemy, after losing all his men, while he himself had been severely wounded.

Our orders were to make the best of our way to Long Island Sound, where we were to deliver some despatches to HMS Syren, and then, after cruising a week off Gay Head, to return to Rhode Island. Both our vessels were ready for sea, so, having obtained leave to take Grampus and Tom Rockets with me, we pulled on board, and got under weigh. A fine breeze carried us to sea, and did not desert us till we made the shores of Long Island. We ran into the Sound and delivered our despatches on board the Syren. The spot wore a very different aspect to that which it had borne when I was last there. Now the whole country was in possession of the royal troops, who were under the full belief that it was henceforward to remain their own. The reports were that the whole of the American forces were completely disorganised and disheartened, and that they would never again be able to make head against the royalists. The truth was what was supposed, but they had a man at their head who was a host in himself, and by his courage, his wisdom, and energy, he made amends for all deficiencies. George Washington was truly the man who established the American Republic. For that great work he was especially appointed by Heaven. Unhappily, the people of whom he made a nation have too often since forgotten his precepts and example. The farther they have departed from it the less dignified and respected they have been. But I am anticipating events.

O’Driscoll and I would have been right glad of an excuse to remain at New York, but we had not even sprung a spar, and our craft were as tight as bottles, and our crews did not want a single dose of physic among them, so we were obliged to put to sea again that evening. We however contrived to pick up a round of beef, two legs of mutton, and a turkey, with a sack of potatoes, and some other vegetables, out of a bumboat which had come down to supply the Syren, and which we waylaid before she reached that ship. I must not forget also some soft tack, three dozen of bottled ale, and a cheese, which set us up in the comestible way for some time. Just as we got to sea the wind veered round to the east and south-east, and with a favourable breeze, under easy sail, we stood to the northward. The next day O’Driscoll came aboard to dine with me. I had the turkey. The bird had made so many objections to remaining in the coop into which I put him, that I was obliged to kill him. He was consequently rather tough, but midshipmen’s teeth don’t stand at trifles, and we made considerable progress in devouring him.

“This is very jolly, Captain Hurry,” said O’Driscoll, pouring out for himself a glass of foaming ale. “Here’s to you, man, and I don’t care how long we’re on our cruise.”

“It will soon come to an end if this wind lasts,” I remarked.

“Not a bit of it, if we’re inclined to make it longer,” he replied. “Suppose now, a craft was to make her appearance in the south-east, we should have to make sail after her, and it might be many a day before we got back to port, do ye see. Do you twig, my boy, eh?”

“Oh, yes, O’Driscoll. I understand you perfectly,” said I. “But that sort of conduct does not exactly come up to my notion of our duty to the service. We might get a long cruise, certainly, but I don’t think we should enjoy it, and we might just possibly fall into the hands of an enemy, and end it in a prison on shore.”

“Ha! ha! ha! that would be an unpleasant termination to our independent commands,” he replied, laughing. “Well, I suppose to do our duty is the best policy. I shouldn’t like the catastrophe you picture so vividly.”

One thing I must say in O’Driscoll’s favour, though his fertile brain conceived all sorts of mischief, he was very ready to abandon any of his proposals when he found that others objected to them. Though hot enough at times, and ready enough to fight anybody and everybody who came in his way, his anger was as quickly appeased. Thus also he was easily persuaded by me to adhere to the letter of his instructions, and, in perfect good-humour with all the world, he accompanied me on deck to smoke our cigars. It was one of those lovely days, which occur frequently in autumn in that part of the world, called by the Americans the Indian summer. A thin, gauze-like mist hung over the face of the deep—scarcely dense enough, however, to mitigate the heat of the sun’s rays, which, darting forth from the pure, blue sky, sparkled brightly on the crisply curling wavelets, stirred up by a light southerly breeze. Everything gave promise of a continuance of fine weather, and so, like two pachas, we sat on the deck, calmly contemplating with philosophic indifference all sublunary affairs. Not another sail was to be seen within the circle of our horizon besides our two small craft, so that as we had nothing else with which to compare ourselves, we were content to believe that we were two very important personages indeed. We had our coffee brought to us in due form. It was not a common beverage among midshipmen, certainly in those days, but Tom had learned to make it well of a Spanish seaman on board the Orpheus. We finished our repast with more than one glass of grog apiece, but not sufficient, I am happy to say, to risk the equilibrium of either our minds or bodies. While we were discussing the seaman’s favourite beverage, O’Driscoll indulged me, and by necessity my ship’s company, with some of his choicest songs, trolled forth in a full, clear voice, and the liquor loosening the muscles of his tongue, every word came forth with the richest brogue of his native land. At first the people listened attentively as they sat forward. Then they by degrees crept up nearer and nearer, till at length Pat Doolan, a compatriot of the minstrel, seemingly unable any longer to contain himself, burst forth into the full chorus of one of the songs. To stop him would have been impossible. The poor fellow flung his whole soul into the melody. What a flood of recollections—of long pent-up feelings—it brought back! Sooner than hold silence he would have jumped overboard, I believe. The example was infectious. One by one the rest of the crew took up the strain. Not one but had the spirit of melody within him; and there we were, officers and crew, all singing away together like mad people, or as if our lives depended on the noise we made.

At sun-down we hove-to, and O’Driscoll returned on board his own vessel, insisting on my returning his visit the next day. The weather proving calm, I was enabled to fulfil my engagement, and a merry time we had of it. So pleasant did I find this sort of life, that I began to persuade myself that there would be no outrageous impropriety in acceding to O’Driscoll’s proposal to lengthen our voyage. Two days thus passed pleasantly away, during which we made but little progress in our voyage. We might possibly by carrying a greater press of sail have made more, but we were, as I have observed, in no hurry to bring it to an end.

On the morning of the 14th, as I lay fast asleep in my cot, it having been my middle watch, I felt my shoulder shaken, while a rough voice exclaimed—

“There’s a sail in sight, Mr Hurry, sir, on the lee-bow. She’s the cut of an American merchantman.”

Looking up, I saw the weather-beaten countenance of Nol Grampus bending over me.

“Keep her away, and make all sail in chase,” I answered, springing up; “I’ll be on deck in a trice.”

I was not many seconds behind old Nol. The Lady Parker was on our weather-quarter. Her people had not been so quick-sighted as we were, but when they saw us making sail, they did the same. Away we both went in hot pursuit of the stranger, which proved to be a schooner. When she made us out she apparently took fright, and likewise set every stitch of canvas she could carry to escape.

There is nothing so exciting as a chase, whether on shore or afloat. Next to it is a race. Here we had both combined, for we wanted to catch the enemy and to beat the Lady Parker. The breeze freshened, but the Pigot looked up to her canvas famously; and sweeter to our ears than any music just then was the loud gush of the yielding waters as they were parted by the sharp bows of my little craft.

“You are a darling now!” cried old Nol, as he looked up at the canvas, ever and anon, to see that each sail drew its best. “Just show us what your heels can do this time, at all events.” The schooner seemed to understand him, and went faster and faster. We were somewhat distancing the Lady Parker, and coming up with the chase.

“If the breeze holds, sir, we shall be within gun-shot in half an hour, and then there’ll be but little chance for that small hooker there,” observed Grampus, chuckling. She was a bigger vessel than the Pigot, by-the-bye.

“It’s just possible that one of the enemy’s cruisers may heave in sight, and spoil our sport before then,” said I; “such a thing has occurred before now, and there are plenty of them in these seas.”

“The more call for speed, then, sir,” replied Nol. “Hurrah—blow your best, good breeze, and don’t stint us.”

In even less time than Grampus had predicted, we got the schooner within range of our guns. I half expected to see her haul her wind and show fight. We began to blaze away with our bow-chasers, but she stood steadily on, taking not the slightest notice of us. Rockets and I had both tried our hands at a shot, but without effect, so I sent him to the helm, and called Grampus forward, to see what he could do. More than once he looked along the gun without firing. “Here goes,” he at length exclaimed, applying the match. I watched eagerly. Away flew the shot—it struck. I could see the splinters fly, and down came by the run the main-topmast of the chase. All hands gave a grand hurrah. Still the chase stood on. In a short time, however, we saw that there was some confusion on board. The ensign was hauled down—then run up, and then hauled down again.

Just as we fancied that she was going to heave-to, up went the ensign once more, and the hands were seen going aloft, to clear away the wreck of the top-mast.

“What can the fellow be about?” said I; “he cannot hope to escape us.”

“Perhaps, sir, he sees a big friend ahead, whom he thinks will come to his assistance,” observed Grampus.

“We must give him another dose, then, to stop him before his friend appears. Fire low this time!” I exclaimed, for my blood was up at the thoughts of his escaping us. We yawed a little so as to bring all our starboard guns to bear. The shot took effect, and there appeared more confusion than before on deck. “Let them have it again,” I sung out; “this time they must give in!” The guns were loaded, and our people were about to fire, when, as I was looking through my telescope, I saw two figures rush on deck, and which instantly made me arrest the order to fire. They were women. By their gestures they were evidently endeavouring to persuade the crew to continue their endeavours to escape or to yield at once. Which it was I could not determine, but while they remained on deck I could not bring myself again to fire on the vessel. I hoped that we should be able to capture her without doing her further injury. On we stood, therefore, as before. The ladies remained on deck. I kept my eye on them, intending to fire at the schooner’s rigging the moment they went below. I told Grampus my reason for not firing. “That’s right, sir,” he answered warmly; “no man who’s fit to be a man ever hurts a woman if he can help it, whether old or young, or whatever her nation—or black or white. And they, d’ye see, bless their hearts, repays us; for no matter where it is, if a man is sick or wounded, or in distress, they are always ready to help him and nurse him and pity him—bless them, says I. I don’t know what we should do without them.”

The two ladies kept their posts, walking the deck, and every now and then stopping and eyeing us—taking our distance, I thought. We were rapidly decreasing it, however, and to me it appeared that the chase had very little chance of escaping. I must own that I was now doubly anxious to come up with her. All sorts of romantic ideas came crowding into my imagination, and I quite forgot that, after all, the petticoats might belong to the skipper’s double-fisted wife and rosy-cheeked, loud-voiced daughter. Still, whatever they were, I would not for worlds have run the risk of hurting them.

As time sped away the more eager did I become to solve the problem. When my eye began to ache with watching the chase, Nol took the glass. I had had my breakfast brought on deck. I ate my dinner there also. I was just washing down the cold salt junk and biscuit with a glass of rum and water, when Grampus exclaimed—

“The petticoats has wapperated, sir—that they has.”

I jumped up, overturning my glass of swizzle, and putting the helm to starboard, sung—

“Fire away, but high, my lads—take care, now.”

Grampus had handed me the glass and hurried to a gun. Never was there a better marksman. His eye coolly glanced along the iron tube. He fired. The schooner’s fore-yard was shot away in the slings, and directly afterwards her fore-top-mast went tumbling over her bows.

“Hurrah!” shouted Nol, “we’ve got her now, my lads.”

I watched through my glass. The females did not return on deck. I only hoped that they were not frightened at the mischief we had committed. The chase was now a complete wreck aloft. Still her ensign was kept flying at her peak. Just, however, as I was about to yaw once more, it was hauled down, and she was luffed up into the wind. We were very soon up with her. Heaving-to just to windward of her, I ordered a boat to be lowered, and, with Tom Rockets and two other hands, pulled aboard. I directed Grampus to keep a very sharp watch on the movements of the schooner, should I go below, for the rebels were up to so many tricks that it was necessary to be prepared for them.

As I stepped on the deck of the prize, I was met by a man whom I took to be the master. He was a tall, lank man, and one of the most melancholy-looking beings I ever beheld. I looked round for the females.

“If they belong to our thread-paper friend here, the chances are that their attractions are but small,” I thought to myself. Still I was very curious to see them.

“Well, Mr Officer,” said the master, without giving me time to speak, “if it’s any satisfaction to you, you’ll understand that you’ve ruined a hard-working man with a large family by this capture, and frightened nearly to death two females aboard here.”

He spoke in a slow, drawling tone, but there was something in it which made me fully believe him.

“It cannot be helped. I do but my duty,” I answered.

“Your duty, sir! Is it the duty of a man, a gentleman, to attack the weak and the oppressed?” said a deep voice close to my ear.

The melancholy skipper had not spoken, the tones were too feminine for him. I turned, and saw standing near me a lady who had evidently just ascended from the cabin. I started. She was something so unlike what I had expected to see. Her figure, though slight, was tall and commanding, and a black dress set off the brilliant whiteness of her complexion. Her dark eyes flashed with fire as she spoke. Her features also, I saw, were very handsome. I have not often been abashed, such a feeling does not usually run in the blood of the Hurrys, but I was on this occasion completely taken aback. I felt that I should have liked to have jumped into my boat and pulled back to my own craft without saying a word. However, I mustered courage to speak.

“Pardon me, madam,” I stuttered out, “I obey the commands of my lawful sovereign, though those commands are, I own, often painful.”

“The excuse all mercenaries make,” said the lady, with bitter scorn in her voice. “And now, sir, that we are your captives, may I ask what you purpose doing with us?”

This question was rather a poser. I could not let the prize go free, and yet I had no wish to detain any women as prisoners.

“I cannot answer the question at once, madam,” I replied; “but I will do my best to land you as soon as possible at the nearest point I am able to reach, to wherever you may wish to go.”

I thought this would satisfy the lady, but not a bit of it.

“Oh, then, we are to be compelled to leave the vessel in which we have taken a passage and to be delayed on an errand of importance because George of Brunswick chooses to try and force unjust laws down the throats of a free people!”

“The fortune of war, madam,” I replied, my choler rising somewhat at her remarks; still I did not forget she was a lady, and that I was an officer and a gentleman.

“Such as brigands might be ashamed of,” she replied. “Then, sir, we are to consider ourselves as your prisoners?”

“Not a moment longer than I can help it, I assure you, madam,” I answered, rather inclined to be amused than angry, and hoping to pique her by my replies. “You are free to go in any direction you please directly you have an opportunity.”

“You speak mockingly, sir,” she said, apparently determined not to be on good terms with me.

I was anxious to bring the conversation to a conclusion without being rude to her; she was very evidently a lady, and probably accustomed to be treated with attention. My curiosity also was excited to know who her companion could be. We had seen two females on board, and she had used the word “we” several times as if her companion was her equal; whether older or younger was the question. She herself had the appearance and air of a matron who, though past the bloom of youth, still retained much of her beauty. Bowing to her again, I turned to the melancholy-faced master and inquired the particulars of his cargo, where he was from, and where bound to. He was from Boston, with a cargo of notions bound for Philadelphia.

“Well, then, captain, I’ll step below, just to have a look at your papers,” said I, trying to appear as unconcerned as possible. “Then we’ll get the wreck of your masts cleared away and take you in tow. You and your mate with two hands will go on board my vessel, the rest will remain here to help work this craft.”

He saw that my orders were not to be disputed, though he prepared to obey them with no very good grace. I had no fear of any trick being played me, for the Lady Parker was fast coming up to the scene of action, or I should not have trusted either the lank master or the lovely dame. I hailed Grampus to send another boat aboard, and while she was coming I dived below, disregarding the black looks both of the master and the lady. I certainly was not prepared for the vision of loveliness which broke on my sight when I opened the door of the cabin. I somehow or other had taken it into my head that the lady on deck was the youngest of the two persons we had seen, and I expected accordingly to find a stout, elderly dame acting as her chaperone or attendant. Instead, however, there, half-reclining on a sofa, and reading, or pretending to read, was a young and lovely girl. The lady on deck possessed somewhat of a stern beauty; hers was of the most perfect feminine softness. She was fair, with light-brown hair, and a rich colour on her cheeks, and eyes so full and lustrous that they pierced through and through me at once. I was very glad she did not ask me to do anything I ought not to have done, for as Adam was easily tempted by Eve, I fear me much that I should not have had the resolution to refuse any request she might have made. I stood for a minute at the door, looking, I daresay, very stupid, and silent as a post. At last I blundered out—

“I beg pardon, miss; I came to see the ship’s papers; I hope that I don’t inconvenience you.”

“Oh, no, sir, as the ship is, I conclude, in your power, and the passengers are your prisoners, we can only be grateful for any courtesy you show us,” she answered; and oh! what a sweet, soft, musical voice she spoke in!

I was quickly followed below by the master, who proceeded to hand me out his papers from a well-battered tin case.

“You are, I conclude, Mr Saul Cobb, master of the ‘Crab’ schooner—not much like a crab though, by the way she went through the water,” said I, running my eyes over the papers. “All well and good, Mr Cobb. We will take the ‘Crab’ in tow as far as Rhode Island, where Sir Peter Parker, the English admiral, will decide what is to be done with her. Your passengers, I have no doubt, will be landed at Newport, and a safe conduct will be granted them in whatever direction they may wish to proceed.”

I looked up as I spoke, and bowed to the young lady. I found her eyes fixed on me, though she very quickly withdrew them, and I could not help fancying, vain puppy that I was! that a slight blush tinged her cheeks.

“I trust, madam,” said I, “that we shall be able to make arrangements satisfactory under the painful circumstances of the case to you and the lady who is with you.”

“She is my aunt,” she answered quickly. “But I fear that it will be difficult to make amends to her for the inconvenience to which she must be put and the bitter disappointment she feels. She was called to the bedside of a brother she believes to be dying from his wounds, and there being no one else whose assistance she could claim, I accompanied her. We hoped to have landed to-morrow. Could you not still manage to put us on shore?”

She looked up with such a beautiful, earnest expression that I instantly began to consider whether I could not by some possibility do as she requested. As the result of my reflections I replied—

“I am sorry to say I cannot do so. I dare not so far depart from my very clear line of duty; still, any accommodation I can afford you and your aunt will, I am sure, be sanctioned by the admiral.”

“You are very kind indeed, sir,” said the young lady. “I would not ask any officer to neglect his duty to the king he serves; I should despise him if he did.”

She had risen from her seat, and stood resting her left hand on the table, while her right was slightly raised to give expression to her sentiments.

“Ho, ho!” I thought, “your politics do not agree, then, with those of your aunt.”

I looked up into her face. I could not help it. How beautiful and animated she looked! Her figure was not tall, though exquisitely proportioned and rounded as if she enjoyed excellent health, and had been subject to very few of the cares and disappointments of life. In a word, I thought her a perfect heroine, and so she was. I could not help congratulating myself at the idea of having her society on board the tender for at least the next two days, and perhaps longer, and I must own that I was in no hurry to finish looking over the papers of the Crab, though for the life of me I could not have told a word of their contents.

“Well, mister, are you satisfied now?”

The harsh, grating sounds of Captain Cobb’s voice, for he it was who spoke, recalled me to myself.

“Yes, yes,” I answered. “Turn your hands up and get a hawser secured on board with plenty of scope.”

I then once more addressed the young lady—

“I must beg you and your aunt to come on board my schooner. This vessel is not in a safe condition for you to remain in her. I will, believe me, endeavour to do everything to secure your comfort and to mitigate the annoyance you must of course feel. I will go on deck and endeavour to persuade your aunt to do what is necessary.”

“I wish you would,” she answered. “I am afraid that you will have no little difficulty, though.”

I left the young lady preparing in a very methodical way to pack up her things to remove on board the tender, while I, with no little trepidation, went on deck to address the aunt. The Lady Parker was fast coming up, and I wanted to make all arrangements before O’Driscoll’s appearance.

The lady, as I expected, at first refused positively to leave the vessel she was on board of unless by force. I assured her that she would remain at very great risk to her own life and that of her niece, should bad weather come on, and I assured her that I would spare no pains to secure her comfort, and I pledged my honour that she would be as safe under my protection as she had been under that of Captain Cobb. “Besides, Captain Cobb himself will be on board my vessel, madam.”

“In that case, sir, I will act according to your commands,” said the lady, with one of her bitter smiles.

As they had no attendant, she and her niece were some time in putting up their things, and though I offered my services they were stiffly declined by the elder lady. However, under the counteracting influences of her sweet niece I felt that I could bear a large amount of sourness from her.

At last I got them safely into the boat and on board the tender, together with Mr Cobb and his mate and two of his men. The rest I judged that I could safely leave where they were to help work the prize. I sent Grampus on board her to take charge, and we had the hawser secured when O’Driscoll came up. I had no particular wish just then for his company, though I could not for the world have shown any jealousy of him, so I signalised him that all was right and that I was going to make sail for Rhode Island. He, however, had seen the ladies on my deck, and he would have been unlike any Irishman I ever met had he not desired to know more about them. He accordingly signalised me in return not to make sail till he had held some private communication with me, and very quickly he was on board. After he had made a most profound bow to the two ladies and looked a thousand unutterable things, he seized me by the arm and led me forward.

“Oh, you lucky dog, Poynder,” said he, “to have fallen in with such a prize—that magnificent creature and that pretty little girl. Faith! I must accompany you back to the admiral, just to see that you don’t get into any mischief. I should like to bask myself every morning in their smiles, even though it may be at a somewhat long distance.”

I of course told him that he must do as he thought fit, but I wasn’t sorry when he tumbled into the boat to return to his own craft, and allowed me to prepare for the ladies’ comfort on board mine. I of course gave them up the entire cabin, and fitted up a sofa with sides for one of the ladies. What with canvas, and flags, and some planks, I very soon had some fair accommodation for them. My own cot I had slung in another part of the vessel. The younger lady, when she returned on deck, after inspecting the arrangements I had made, thanked me with a look which made ample amends for all the trouble I had taken. The elder one did not deign to take any notice of the matter. I had been anxious to know their names. I had seen that of Tarleton on one of the trunks, so I addressed the elder lady as Mrs Tarleton, which she seemed to acknowledge as her proper appellation, so I took the chance of being right, and called the other Miss Tarleton; but she with a smile observed—

“No; that is not my name. I am called Madeline Carlyon. That lady is the wife of my mother’s brother. She, as you see, is very strongly opposed to the Royalist party. She has reason, for she has suffered much from them. I am very much attached to her, for she is an excellent, noble-minded person, though she has, as you see, her peculiarities.”

“And are you, Miss Carlyon, equally opposed to the Royalists?” I asked.

I felt that I was venturing on dangerous ground.

“Some of my family are Royalists, though some of them are in opposition, and are what you, I fear, would call rebels. I do not like the word.”

“Nor do I,” I answered warmly. “Though I am a naval officer, and fighting is my vocation, I wish that this dispute were settled. I would rather have any other enemies than those we are now fighting with.”

“I am glad to hear you utter that sentiment, sir,” said Mrs Tarleton, who had overheard the last part of our conversation, as she continued her never-ceasing walk on deck. “Cherish it, for it may produce wholesome fruit in time to come.”

The wind held fair, and with the prize in tow, and the Lady Parker, which could easily keep up with us in company, we steered a direct course for the then small town of Newport, off which I hoped to find the admiral. After the conversation I have described above, the ice in Mrs Tarleton’s manner gradually thawed. She began to regard me with some degree of interest, and to look on me simply as a misguided young man whom she might hope to win over to the cause to which she herself was so warmly attached. I certainly did my best to obtain her good opinion, as well as that of her niece, and I felt that at all events I was winning that of the latter.

Delightful and strange were the sensations I experienced as I leaned over the bulwarks by the side of that lovely girl, while we watched the blue sparkling wavelets, and I told her of the wonders of the deep, and now and then threw in a description of some of the adventures I had gone through. It was, I repeat, fortunate for me that she was at heart a loyalist, or she would inevitably just then have converted me to whatever opinions she held. We watched the glorious sun descend into his ocean bed in a golden radiance which suffused the whole western sky; and then the pale moon arose, and we stayed to gaze on its silvery beams as they played over the calm waters of the ocean, just crisped into wavelets by the light easterly breeze which blew us on our way. It was very delightful. We were both of us very young, and very unsophisticated. I had scarcely ever spoken to a young lady. The last I had seen, and the impression she had made was not deep, was Miss Deborah Doulass, the fair daughter of a retired linen-draper at Falmouth. The Poynders are in no way a phlegmatic race. The young lady was not backward in appreciating my sentiments, and we might very probably have stood gazing at the ocean till the moon had gone to bed also, when Miss Carlyon was summoned somewhat hastily by her aunt. She put out her hand, and as I pressed it I felt as if an electric shock had run through me. The elder lady drew her shawl round her, and, bowing stiffly, they retired one after the other down the companion-ladder.

I walked the deck for some time, all sorts of new sensations jumping away round my heart and in my head, and then I turned into the temporary berth I had had rigged for myself in the hold, ordering Tom Rockets to keep a sharp look-out, and to call me the moment he suspected even that anything, however trifling, was going wrong. Close to my berth, and divided only by a thin bulk-head, was the place where the prisoners were sleeping. They were all snoring away when I turned in, but after a time I heard one of them give some grunts.

“Peter,” said a voice. “Peter, are you awake, man?”

I knew by the grating harsh tones that it was that of the lank skipper.

“Yes, captain; I’m awake. What’s your will?” was the answer.

“I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking of,” said the captain in a very low voice, evidently getting near the person he was addressing. “It wouldn’t be a hard matter to take this craft, and make off with her. She is short-handed. We have four stout fellows, and the woman I make sure would help us. I’d undertake, while he is caterwauling away with the young gal, to knock that young sprig of an officer overboard. Then we’d cast off the hawser, and let the ‘Crab’ go adrift. They needn’t know it was done on purpose; and while the other king’s ship was looking after her to pick her up, we’d have a fine start. At all events, this craft has the best pair of heels, and she would never come up with us again. What do you say, Peter, to this?”

“I’m your man, captain,” answered the mate chuckling. “There’s four to seven, and that’s no great odds if we choose our time. We can count, I guess, on the woman if you put her up to the trick. It may be a job to do that, though.”

“No fear on that score,” observed Captain Cobb. “By the look of the sky when the sun went down, there’ll be a breeze before to-morrow night. Just do you talk to Ahab and Silas, and I’ll see about the rest.”

The voices of the speakers sank so low after this that I could not catch another word.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” said I to myself. “I’ve had that trick attempted to be played on me before now; but I didn’t think that you, my melancholy-looking friend, were up to it. However—forewarned, fore-armed—I’ll be ready for you. I suspect that Mrs Tarleton will not be a little enraged when she hears the part she is to play in the drama. She’ll wither up the poor skipper into a mummy when she sees him.”

I could scarcely refrain from laughing aloud at the idea. I waited till the two conspirators ceased speaking, and as I believed had gone again to sleep; and then I noiselessly left my berth and went on deck. I had my own pistols ready, and I sent Rockets to arm himself and the rest of the people.

In the morning, when the lank skipper and his people came on deck, they looked somewhat dismayed at the appearance we presented. I, however, said nothing, and treated him as if I was totally ignorant of his kind intentions towards me. I was, however, preparing to speak to him, in the presence of Mrs Tarleton, hoping to enjoy her indignation and his dismay; but the sight of Miss Carlyon put everything I was going to say out of my head, as I sprang to the companion-hatch to hand her on deck. How bright and beaming was the smile which irradiated her countenance! While she was near, I scarcely had it in my heart even to frighten the poor skipper, and certainly not to hurt him, even had he attempted to carry out his kind intentions towards me. She looked about her, enjoying the sight of the blue sparkling sea and the fresh breeze.

“It is very beautiful,” said she at length.

“Very!” said I, but if she had asked me to say what I thought so beautiful it would have made her blush. She did not remark a bank of black clouds away to the eastward. I did, and was sorry to see them, for I thought how much discomfort a gale would cause her. The lank skipper saw them also, and probably hoped for an opportunity to carry his pleasant little plot into execution. I determined at once to spoil it. I had somewhat prepared Miss Carlyon, by telling her that I knew of the existence of a plan to take the vessel from me, but made very light of it that I might not frighten her. Calling Captain Cobb aft, while Mrs Tarleton was on deck, I looked him full in the face, and recounted the whole particulars of the plan he had concocted.

“And do you know, madam, our worthy friend not only expects you to approve of his project, but to help him carry it into execution, whether by the aid of the bowl or dagger I do not know; perhaps he expects you to help in smothering us with pillows while we are fast asleep.”

Never was a man more completely taken aback than was Mr Saul Cobb on that occasion, nor was his confusion lessened by the address of the lady.

“You wretched, miserable being! do you fancy that because I am a patriot I would consort with murderers, whose sole idea is how they may make money without a thought how they may best serve their country?”

Her attitude, expression, and manner, more than her words, expressed the vehemence of her feelings; and the skipper, without attempting to excuse himself, turned round and, bolting forward, dived down below to hide his head in darkness. I told Rockets to keep an eye on him, for I thought he might do some mischief.

“You, sir, will, I am sure, acquit me of approving even in the remotest way of such a scheme,” said the lady.

I assured her that I did, and I felt that I had, from the way I had taken the matter, gained a yet further step in her good graces. I then sent Rockets to tell the skipper that, should he attempt to make any such demonstration as he had proposed, I should forthwith be compelled to blow out his brains; but that, if he behaved well, I would pass the matter over. I felt very sure that he would give me no further trouble.

Scarcely had I thus settled this affair than down came the gale on us with a fury unexpected. I shortened sail, lengthened our hawser to the utmost, and then went to try and make the ladies comfortable in the cabin. Still, notwithstanding all my responsibilities and troubles, I had never before felt so happy and proud in my life.

Chapter Ten.

Gale continues.—My lady passengers.—My loyalty put to the test.—Reach Rhode Island.—Ordered to escort ladies to their destination.—Chased by a stranger.—Fearful dangers.—Run through a narrow passage.—Anchor.

The little schooner kept plunging away through the heavy seas caused by the gale, with her prize dragging astern. Grampus had got some sail on her to help her along, but still she not only made us labour much, but exposed us to considerable risk. This, under ordinary circumstances, I should not have minded, and of course, except in the case of the last necessity, I would not have thought of casting her adrift to look after herself. Night came on, and still there was no chance of the gale going down. I was much relieved by O’Driscoll ranging up alongside and hailing me, promising to stay by the prize should I be compelled to cast her off. Still, as I had taken her, I naturally wanted to have the satisfaction of bringing her in. As the darkness increased, the gale blew heavier and the sea ran higher. Still, fortunately, we were able to keep our course. Hour after hour passed away, the little vessel plunging bows under, and dragging away lustily at her heavy prize. I felt that she was straining very much, and on sending below I found that she was making more water than she ought to have done. Still I held on with the Crab, hoping that the gale would break. At last it seemed to have moderated a little, so I left the deck in charge of Rockets, and descended into the cabin to offer what comfort I could to its fair occupants. I asked leave to enter. Mrs Tarleton’s voice assured me that I was welcome. I found both ladies sitting on a sofa which I had lashed close to the table. A swing lamp hung from above. They had books before them, and were attempting to read. I doubt if they had made much progress. I told them that I thought the gale was breaking, and that we might have fair weather again before the morning.

“I trust so, indeed,” said Miss Carlyon. “It appeared to me that we have been in very great danger; even now the vessel seems dreadfully agitated, though my aunt assures me that such storms are constantly met with at sea.”

“She is right, I assure you,” said I. “There is no danger that may alarm you.”

Just as I spoke there was a loud report. Both ladies shrieked.

“Oh, what is that?” exclaimed the younger. “What can have happened, Mr Poynder?”

“Parted the hawser, which was towing the prize,” I answered hurriedly. “Let me entreat you: do not be alarmed, whatever happens. We shall have probably to lie by her all night. With daylight we may make her fast again.”

Saying this I rushed on deck. I could just see the Crab astern of us. The mainsail being handed, we hove the vessel to, under her fore-staysail. She felt far more easy than she had done, going free, and with the prize in tow. Still I never spent a more anxious night. I did not either forget friend Cobb’s kind intentions by me, and I hinted to him that I remembered them. At length daylight came, and a dark cloudy sky hung over a dull leaden sea. I looked anxiously around for the prize. She had drifted away some three miles to leeward of us. I would rather not have been nearer the coast than we were. Still I bore down to her. O’Driscoll was nowhere to be seen. A cheery reply from old Grampus assured me that all was right. He, moreover, volunteered to send a hawser aboard of us. I accordingly hove-to again on his weather-bow. A boat was lowered from the Crab, manned by the prisoners, and in a short time, though not without risk to the boat’s crew, we had the prize once more in tow.

“I’ll not forget you for this, my lads,” I sang out.

Captain Cobb looked daggers at his people, but I took care that he should hold no communication with them.

My fair passengers, I found, had not suffered during the night. As the schooner, when hove-to, rode easily, they fancied that the weather had improved, and were perfectly satisfied. When we once more made sail, although there really was less wind and sea, they fancied that the weather had become worse, and I had some difficulty in assuring them to the contrary. The subject which caused me the most anxiety was the quantity of water the vessel was making. It became, therefore, necessary to man the pumps, and I was not sorry to have a good excuse for setting Captain Cobb and his people to labour at them. The master, especially, did not like it, and showed signs of disobedience.

“Come, come, my friend,” said I; “I have been somewhat lenient with you. I might have kept you in irons, had I not run you up to the yard-arm, in return for the trick you wished to play with me.”

“Well, now, mister, how did you find all that out?” quoth my friend, looking me coolly in the face.

“Never mind,” I answered, tickled by his impudence. “Man the pumps.” And I made him work away, as he deserved, as long as he could stand. I kept a look-out for the Lady Parker, and felt not a little anxious as to what had become of her. I should have liked to have passed much more of my time than I did in the cabin, but I was afraid of intruding on my passengers. I believe they fully appreciated my delicacy. Several times during the day Miss Carlyon ventured on deck, and seemed to enjoy gazing on the stormy, foam-crested seas. I stood by her side and supported her as the little vessel plunged into the troughs, and rose again buoyantly to their summits.

“This is very fine,” she exclaimed enthusiastically. “I do think the life of a sailor must be very delightful, Mr Hurry. Had I my choice, I would select it above all others.”

“You may be a sailor’s wife, though you cannot be a sailor,” came to the tip of my tongue, but I did not utter the words; instead of them I said, looking at her beautiful countenance, and admiring its animation, “I love it dearly, and would not change it for any other, Miss Carlyon, though it has its shadows as well as its sunshine.”

“Ah, yes, but I always look at the sunny side of every picture,” she remarked, smiling sweetly.

“You cannot help that. The light you see shed over everything is but the reflection from yourself!” I blushed as I felt an expression so different from my usual matter-of-fact style drawn from my lips.

Miss Carlyon looked up with a bright glance, (not smiling exactly), as much as to say, “What is that about?” She was not, I thought, displeased, but I did not venture anything of the sort again. I found myself led by degrees to tell her all about myself, and my early life, and my adventures, and then I described the sea under its various aspects, and I went on to talk about ships of different classes, and how to rig them, and the names of the ropes and sails and spars. She told me, in return, a good deal about herself and her family, and her likes and dislikes and occupations. Her father had property, I found, between the Chesapeake and Potomac rivers in Virginia, where she had generally resided. Since his death she had remained chiefly with her aunt, Mrs Tarleton, though she hoped to return in a short time, if the state of the country would allow it, to Virginia.

“If you knew what a beautiful country it is, you would love it as I do, Mr Hurry!” she exclaimed with enthusiasm. “When this dreadful war is over, and the people have attained their rights, and returned to their allegiance, you must come and see us. I am sure that my family will one and all, whatever their politics, rejoice in the opportunity of thanking you for your kindness and courtesy to my aunt and me on the present occasion.”

I of course said how delighted I should be, and fifty other very pretty things besides. All I can say is that I had never spent so enjoyable a time before at sea. Her aunt very seldom came on deck, so that Madeline and I were left very much to ourselves. I believe that Mrs Tarleton purposely did not interfere, hoping by means of her niece to gain me over to the cause to which she was so enthusiastically attached. From what I knew of her, I am certain that if such was the case, she fully believed that she was employing a lawful means for a good end. The more I saw, however, of Mrs Tarleton, the more I learned to admire her high-minded, noble, self-sacrificing disposition. The love of freedom was with her a passion, and she held in utter scorn all who submitted to, what she considered, tyranny. She was indeed a person of the old heroic stamp, ready to dare and to do all things in a righteous cause. The gale moderated sooner than I had expected, the sea went down, and we had moderate and pleasant weather. It was therefore with anything but satisfaction that I made out Sir Peter Parker’s flag flying aboard the Chatham, off Rhode Island, which our squadron had been busily employed in blockading. I brought up with my prize close to him, and assuring my passengers that I would endeavour to carry out the plans they had suggested would be most for their convenience, I pulled on board to report myself. The admiral smiled when I told him all that had occurred.

“So these very charming ladies would like to continue their voyage, and you pledged your word that I would not detain them?” said he in a kind way. “Well, you were safe there; we do not war against women, and we must not be behindhand in courtesy after the treatment which some of our English ladies have received at the hands of the rebels. They are anxious to proceed to the neighbourhood of Philadelphia. You shall go there in the ‘Pigot,’ and you will have no objection to keep them as your passengers. Probably the city itself is by this time occupied by the British forces; but I will give you a letter to General Howe, and will beg him to afford them a pass through the country occupied by our troops, and to allow you to escort them till they are placed in safety among their own people. No; do not thank me. I am glad to afford you what I have no doubt you will find an interesting occupation, but I also have great satisfaction in finding an opportunity of treating the ladies of the opposite party in the way I feel they should be treated.”

Never had I heard more satisfactory words. I could scarcely refrain from rubbing my hands with delight.

“Then am I to sail at once, sir?” I asked.

“Certainly, let there be no delay. You can supply yourself with provisions and water from the ship, and send the master and crew of the prize aboard here. I’ll have them put on shore. From what you say you will be glad to be rid of them.”

Promising Sir Peter to carry out his instructions to the best of my power, after seeing the purser about the provisions, and getting as many extra luxuries as I could out of him, I jumped into my boat and returned on board the tender. On my way I caught sight of two vessels standing in towards the roads. I made out one of them to be the Lady Parker, and the other looked very like a prize she had made. So it proved. Before I sailed, O’Driscoll came on board me, and explained how he had missed me. He was as much pleased to see me safe as I was that no harm had befallen him. In the squall during which the Crab had broken adrift he had been hove on his beam-ends, and on getting to rights he could nowhere see me. After some time he caught sight of a craft, which he took for me, and made sail after her. When morning broke she proved to be a stranger and on over-hauling her he found that she was a rebel merchantman, so he took her and brought her into Newport. He declared that he was very jealous when he heard of what he called my good fortune.

“Will you change places now?” said he coolly. “You shall have the ‘Lady Parker’ and all the prizes you are certain to take in her, and let me run down in charge of the ‘Pigot’ and the ladies.”

“You are joking now,” said I. “But stay a moment and you shall pay your respects to my passengers. They made many inquiries about you when they found that your craft was missing.”

The ladies were most grateful to Sir Peter when they heard of his courtesy, and begged O’Driscoll to bear their thanks to him. My friend remained till the stores came on board, and when he took his departure he vowed that he had irretrievably lost his heart to the beautiful widow. I at the same time made sail and stood to the southward. For the first day we had a fair breeze and fine weather, and I was in hopes, for the sake of my passengers, that we should make a good run of it to the Delaware. I need not describe the various incidents which occurred, interesting as they were to me, and important in their results. I entirely won my way to the good opinion of Mrs Tarleton, and I could not help being conscious that her niece no longer regarded me as a common stranger. Still, how could I venture ever to indulge any hopes of making her mine? I depended entirely on my profession for my support, and that profession compelled me to appear as an enemy of her relations and friends. Before I was aware of the tendency of her reasonings, I found that she had taught me to look on the fratricidal war we were waging in a very different light to that in which I had at first regarded it. She, however, I must insist, in no way weakened my patriotism. I loved old England as much as ever, but she taught me to feel the warmest sympathy for her countrymen and mine truly, who were fighting in the noble cause of liberty. I describe my feelings as they then existed. I leave to others to judge whether they were right or wrong. A fierce war began to rage within me between principle and feeling, interest and duty, and all the tender sentiments of my nature. A less high-minded person would have thrown all her weight into the scale, and might have made me false to the sovereign in whose service I was engaged; but then I flattered myself that a girl of her exalted principles would not have so speedily won my affections. (See Note 1.) Now the murder is out; in plain English, I was head over ears in love, and it was a toss up whether I should, for the sake of Madeline Carlyon, desert my colours, go over and join the Americans, and get a captain’s commission, or remain true to my king and run the chance of losing her. It puts me into a fever even now, to think of all the feelings which came bubbling up in my bosom, and all the ideas which came rushing into my brain, and the pulling and hauling and tugging at my heart. Never had I been so racked and tormented, tossed to and fro, kicked here and there, up and down. At length my good angel came to my assistance. “Do your duty like a man,” he whispered. “Don’t think of consequences, what you would like or what you wouldn’t like. Find out what is right, and do that.”

I had turned in, and, with a mind much calmed, fell asleep.

“There is a strange sail on our weather-quarter, sir,” said Tom Rockets, rousing me up. “Grampus don’t like her looks.”

Nor did I, when a moment afterwards I stood on deck and made her out through the pale light of a grey cold November morning. “Make all sail!” I sung out. “If she is an enemy, the sooner we are out of the way the better.” It was blowing fresh, but I cracked on the little schooner as much as she could carry, and away we went staggering under it with the wind on our larboard quarter. The stranger, apparently, had not made us out, and I was in hopes that we might escape observation. The increased motion, I suppose, awoke the ladies, and to my surprise before long they came on deck.

“What is the matter, Mr Hurry?” asked Mrs Tarleton. “It appeared in the cabin as if there was a fearful gale blowing.”

“You see that the weather is not so very bad,” I answered evasively, “and I am naturally anxious on your account to reach port.”

I never could act the hypocrite, and the lady was not satisfied. As her quick-sighted eye ranged round the horizon she caught sight of the stranger.

“What is that vessel out there?” she asked.

“That I cannot exactly say, madam,” I answered. “She may be a friend or she may be a foe. Under present circumstances I think it best to avoid her.”

“If she is an American vessel her captain would never think of detaining you; and if she is English, you at all events need not fear her,” she replied quickly.

“I would rather not run the risk of detention,” said I. “It is possible, should she be an American vessel, that her people may not believe our story.”

“Well, sir, I have no doubt that you act for the best,” answered the lady, evidently not satisfied as she saw the vessel tearing furiously through the water.

Her niece had said nothing, but seemed rather to enjoy the rapid motion and the fresh air.

While they were still on deck, the stranger caught sight of us and bore up in chase. Mrs Tarleton soon discovered what had occurred, and was constantly watching the stranger.

I kept away a little, and, trusting to the Pigot’s superior sailing qualities, I had little fear of continuing ahead of her during the day, and of escaping her observation in the night. The state of the weather, however, gave me most concern. I saw Grampus looking up anxiously at our spars, and ever and anon at the heavy seas which came up hissing and foaming astern. One of our best hands was at the helm, but he came aft and stood by him. I caught his eye as he was glancing over his shoulder.

“Beg pardon, sir; the more haste the worst speed, Mr Hurry, you know,” said he in a low voice, thinking the ladies would not hear him.

Thick heavy clouds were rushing up, one past the other, rapidly astern of us. I saw that the time had indeed come to shorten sail if I would not run the risk of losing my masts, or, perhaps, of broaching-to and capsizing. I entreated my passengers in a few hurried words to go below to be out of the way of danger. Mrs Tarleton seemed inclined to stay. I was obliged to be somewhat peremptory, and I did not lose her good opinion by being so.

“Indeed, madam, there is considerable danger for you on deck. I cannot allow you to run it. You must go.”

She gave me a look of surprise, and, without another word, allowed me to conduct her and her niece to the companion.

In the meantime the crew had come aft to take in the mainsail and gaff-topsail. I next had the fore-topgallant-sail and foresail off her. This was done only just in time, before the squall came down on us and I had to lower away and close-reef the foresail. The wind had at the same time caught the ship. I took her to be a flush-decked vessel, a corvette probably. She had been looking at us and not thinking of herself probably, for I soon discovered that several of her sails had been blown away, and I suspected that she had received further damage. We at all events benefited by her misfortune, and kept well ahead of her. Still she continued the chase. I felt the truth of the saying that it is much pleasanter chasing than being chased. All day long we ran on, plunging into the seas, and wet from the foam which blew off them over our counter. More than once I thought we should have been pooped. The vessel also began again to leak. Night came on; the leak increased. We lost sight of our pursuer, but our condition became very trying. I endeavoured to make the best of matters, but my anxiety increased. We were off the northern coast of New Jersey. The wind was veering round more to the eastward, and we were getting a rock-bound shore under our lee. There were harbours I might run into, but the thick weather had prevented me from taking any observations, and though by my log I could tell pretty well how far we had run, yet I could not be certain, and, unless from dire necessity, I was unwilling to attempt to make any port short of the Delaware. At times the wind hauled a little more round to the northward, and as it did so my hopes proportionally rose of being able to keep off shore.

Only for a moment did I at times leave the deck to speak a word of comfort to my passengers. Mrs Tarleton was, I saw, fully aware of our danger. I think her niece suspected it, but if she did she completely concealed all signs of fear. On one occasion, when I entered the cabin, they rose from their knees. Together they had been offering up prayers to Him who alone can quell the tempest, for our safety. Their last words reached my ears. I stood at the door and humbly joined in their petition. I quickly had to return on deck. I had been obliged, when the wind shifted, to get some after-sail on the vessel. She heeled over fearfully, yet I knew must be making great lee-way. I could not venture to take any canvas off her.

“What do you think of it, Grampus?” said I, after some time.

“Why, sir, I don’t like it,” was his unsatisfactory reply.

I did not again ask him his opinion. The sea kept flying over us, the night grew darker and darker, and the gale blew stronger and stronger. The leak was increasing. Two hands were kept constantly at the pumps. I wished for Mr Saul Cobb and his companions. Nothing could be well worse. Still I never for a moment lost courage. I felt sure that the prayers of those below would not be uttered in vain. The hours wore away. I kept a bright look-out on the starboard bow to discover breakers, should they be near, while my ears were constantly awake to detect their terror-inspiring sound. How I longed for daylight! I dared not lay-to: I dared not shorten sail. I could only stand on with any prospect of safety. The gale increased: the sea was constantly making a clean breach over the deck. All hands had to hold on fast, or we should have been washed overboard. At the same time the water was gaining terribly on us. A new danger threatened the schooner; she might founder before we could gain a harbour, even if she escaped shipwreck. A considerable part of the New Jersey shore consists of long, low, sandy beaches, which in thick weather can scarcely be seen till a vessel is nearly on them. I judged by my calculations that we were by this time close in with Squan Beach, or Island Beach or Long Beach. My chart told me that there was a passage between the two latter, and several inlets to the south of the last, up which I could run and be safe; but to find them in the dark was impossible.

“Grampus! listen! what is that sound?” said I.

“Breakers, sir!” he answered in a slow way; “there’s no doubt about it. But we shall have daylight soon. Ah, look-out, there sir, there it is!”

I looked seaward, and a pale streak was just appearing in the eastern sky. It grew wider and wider, and at length darkness gave way to the rays of the yet hidden sun. The prospect revealed to us was not cheering. The sea broke as heavily as ever, and not a mile to leeward of us a terrific surf rolled over a long white sandy beach. As I watched the foaming broken mass of waters as they rolled furiously up to it, I felt convinced that, should the schooner once get within their power, not a human being on board would escape. Not a break was to be seen. The wind was dead on-shore, blowing with a determined heavy pressure; and the little vessel, though she made fair headway, was surely drifting nearer and nearer to destruction. Oh, what agony of mind I suffered! I cared not for myself, but I thought of that fair girl and her lovely relative doomed to so hard a fate. I called Grampus to me and asked him if he could advise anything. He shook his head—

“You’ve done all that a man can do, Mr Hurry,” was his answer.

“Then I must prepare those two poor ladies for their inevitable fate,” I thought to myself.

Before going into their cabin, I took another look at the chart which I kept outside it. At the south end of Long Beach was a passage, I found, leading into Little Egg Harbour.

Grampus hailed me. My heart bounded into my mouth again.

“There is an opening, sir. I make it out clearly. Keep her close and by, my lad!” he sang out to the man at the helm. “If we just clear the point we shall do it.”

I held my breath. The schooner dashed on, half buried by the seas. She was almost among the breakers—then broad on our bow appeared an opening—heavy rollers went foaming over it.

“Up with the helm! In with the main-staysail! Square away the fore-yard! Hold on for your lives!”

I rapidly uttered these orders, one after the other. Away before the gale we flew, the sea breaking high on either hand of us. One roller after the other came hurrying on, but we rose to their summits, and then with one more frantic plunge we sank down into smooth water, and in another moment, rounding the vessel to, I let go the anchor and we rode safely under the lee of the sand-bank.

Note 1. I had at first thought, from what Miss Carlyon said, that she was herself warmly attached to Royalist principles; and so in truth she was, but love of country and love of freedom, with a clear sense of justice, had overpowered them, and although she did not possess the enthusiasm of her aunt, she was still a strong advocate of the popular cause. Had she indeed the bias I originally supposed, her aunt would have thrown all her influence to prevent me from making any further advance than I had already done, and I am certain that the young lady would not have acted in opposition to the wishes and advice of her family. Very unromantic principles these, but the young lady in question was totally unlike any heroine of any novel I ever read.

Chapter Eleven.

Run up Little Egg River.—Meet the militia lieutenant whose life I saved.—“One good turn deserves another.”—Set out for Washington’s camp.—Fall into the hands of the Hessians.—The ladies in danger.—Devastating march of mercenaries.—Escape.—House in which we are lodged attacked.—Place the ladies for safety in a root house.

We were saved. The gale blew as hard as ever outside; the sea broke furiously on the sandy shore, the foam reaching across the bank even to where we lay, while the wind whistled through the rigging with a shrill and mournful sound. No sooner did I see that the anchor held than as I was hurrying below to quell the alarm of my passengers, I met them coming on deck, unable to comprehend the cause of the sudden change from the wildest tossing to the perfect calm in which we lay. They looked about them with an expression of astonishment on their features, evidently puzzled to know how we could have got where we were; then they clasped their hands and raised their voices together in prayer and heartfelt gratitude for their safety. The sudden and simultaneous movement touched my heart, and while I admired their simple piety it made me sensible of the hardness of my own heart in religious matters.

“Where are we, Mr Hurry?” asked Mrs Tarleton. “We owe much, I feel sure, under God’s providence, to your excellent seamanship.”

I thanked her for her good opinion of me, and told her that we were, I believed, at the mouth of Little Egg Harbour, on the coast of New Jersey, and that I hoped to run up the river and to land her at some spot at which conveyances might be obtained, as I would not risk her safety by continuing the voyage. Her niece looked far more than her aunt expressed, so I was perfectly satisfied, though she said but little. They knew that I should be in no hurry to part from them; indeed, I had received orders from Sir Peter not to do so till I had conducted them to their friends or seen them in a place of safety.

While I was still talking to the ladies. Grampus called me aside and hurriedly told me that, if the hands were not sent to the pumps, in a very short time the schooner would go down. I accordingly set all hands to work, and when they had lessened the water in the hold I once more made sail, and, with the lead going on either side, I stood through a passage to the southward, and then to the west again up Little Egg River. I hoisted a flag of truce as I stood on. After some time I came in sight of a gentleman’s house—a long low building with a verandah round it—the usual style of building in that part of the country. Near the house was a village. I dropped my anchor and lowered a boat to go on shore.

“We will accompany you, Mr Hurry,” said Mrs Tarleton, who at that moment with her niece followed me on deck after I had announced my intention. “Should the country be in possession of the troops of George of Brunswick, you are safe; but if in that of our patriot troops, you may be liable to molestation.”

To this proposal I could raise no objection, so, ordering Grampus to keep the people at the pumps to prevent the vessel from sinking, I handed the ladies into the boat, and steered for a rough little wooden stage near the large house I had observed on shore. I had a white flag at the end of a boat-hook in the bows of the boat, that I might be prepared for friends or foes. Not a person was to be seen moving. I ran the boat alongside the stage, and with my passengers stepped on shore, leaving Rockets with the flag and two other hands in the boat. There was, for a short distance, a piece of uncultivated open ground, and then a wood of somewhat scrubby trees through which a path led. We had walked along it but a short distance, when, turning an angle, we were confronted by a body of militia, mustering some dozen or twenty men.

“Halt!” cried the sergeant at the head of the party. “Strangers! who are you?”

I tried to explain.

“That’s all very well, and may or may not be true, mister,” answered the sergeant, who certainly was not one of nature’s gentlemen. “I ain’t bound to believe your gammon, I guess; you may be spies, so come along with us and we’ll see about it.”

Here Mrs Tarleton stepped forward.

“We are American ladies,” said she. “We owe much to this officer, and trust that our countrymen will afford us the aid we require.”

The fellow still doubted, and was evidently inclined to use us roughly, when we saw a fresh body of men coming along the road, headed by an officer. He at once advanced to inquire into the matter. At first he also seemed not at all ready to believe us.

“So many spies are dodging about in various disguises that you may be of that character for what I know to the contrary,” he remarked, eyeing us hard.

Mrs Tarleton was inclined to be very indignant. As I looked at the man there was something in the tone of his voice and his countenance I thought I recognised.

“Is your name Spinks?” I asked.

“I guess you’re right,” he answered.

“And you were wounded before New York, and an English officer gave you a sup of spirits and some fresh water, and washed your wounds, and—”

“He did, he did; and you’re the man who did it!” he exclaimed, springing forward and grasping my hand warmly. “I thought I knew your voice—you saved my life, that you did. I said Amos Spinks would be grateful, and so he will. I’m a lieutenant now; I was then only a private.”

This was, indeed, a fortunate encounter. Full credit was now given to our statements. The house to which we were proceeding was, we found, the property of a gentleman of some consideration, who, although a patriot, had from ill-health remained at home. Lieutenant Spinks and his men escorted us to it. The ladies were cordially welcomed, and I was treated with the greatest civility and attention. Our host, John Plowden, was a perfect gentleman of the old school, who received us with many a bow, in bag-wig and sword, knee-breeches and buckles, flowered waistcoat and three-cornered hat. Dinner was instantly prepared, and beds were offered, but Mrs Tarleton wished to proceed on her journey that very afternoon. At first Mr Plowden would on no account consent to this arrangement, but, Mrs Tarleton having explained to him her earnest desire to see her brother, or to gain tidings of him, he willingly promised to do his utmost to enable her to proceed.

“I fear much, however, madam, that you will be exposed to insult from the troops of the enemy who still occupy part of the Jerseys, though I feel sure that the inhabitants, whatever side of the question they take, would in no way annoy you.”

Mrs Tarleton looked at me as this was said. We were sitting at dinner, a midday meal, with several members of Mr Plowden’s family round the table. My instructions from Sir Peter were to see the ladies in safety with Washington’s army. I turned to Mr Plowden—

“If, sir, you can guarantee the safety of my vessel during my absence, and secure me free egress from this harbour on my return, I will proceed with Mrs Tarleton and Miss Carlyon, and I trust shall have the means of securing them from any inconvenience of the nature to which you allude.”

Mr Plowden thought a little.

“I can be answerable for the safety of your vessel, and that no one will prevent her leaving the harbour when you return,” he answered. “But remember, sir, I cannot prevent your people quitting her if they wish to do so.”

“I will trust to your honour, then, sir,” said I. “My men are staunch, and I have no fear of their deserting her. I am ready to set out whenever the ladies desire it.”

“And I have determined to accompany you,” exclaimed Lieutenant Spinks, grasping my hand again. “One good turn deserves another. This is the gentleman who preserved my life, and I want to show that I am grateful. He will be safe enough from molestation on his way to General Washington’s camp, but he may find some difficulty when returning.”

Of course I told Mr Spinks that I should be very glad of his society, though I wondered how he could be certain of obtaining leave of absence from his regiment. I soon learned, however, that both officers and men took the liberty of giving themselves leave, with very little ceremony, from many of the militia regiments, into which but a very slack style of discipline had as yet been introduced.

While the ladies were resting, and preparing for their journey, I returned on board the tender, and, leaving Grampus in charge, received from all hands an assurance that they would obey his orders and remain faithful to their colours.

“Never fear us, Mr Hurry,” said Grampus; “we hopes you will see them beautiful ladies safe with their friends, and will soon come back to us.”

I told him I hoped to return in a few days, and as I went over the side all hands gave three cheers as an earnest of their sincerity.

The arrangements for the journey were soon made, and by two o’clock our party was ready to commence the journey. At the door stood a coach covered with gilding, but very much the worse for wear. Four horses were attached to it, but their sorry appearance showed that they would not be able to drag it except at a slow pace, and for a short distance. On the coach-box sat a white-headed negro. He had once been a strong stout man, but age had shrunk up his flesh and muscles, and his countenance now seemed composed alone of black bumps and wrinkles and protuberances, with two white orbs set in the midst of them. His lank body and limbs were covered with a livery of blue and silver, but, like the coach, sadly faded and worn. Two horses, of somewhat better appearance, were held near at hand by some negro boys, and a little farther off two black mounted servants held the reins of a couple of well-conditioned palfreys with side-saddles on their backs. Mr Plowden led the ladies to the door.

“I have done all I could, madam, for your convenience,” said he, bowing low and pointing to the equipage. “This war has left me in a very different state to what I have been accustomed, or I would have enabled you to journey in a style more befitting your position in life. The carriage will convey you as far as those sorry steeds are able, and then I fear that the bad nature of the roads will require you to continue your journey on horseback.”

Suitable replies were made, affectionate expressions were exchanged between Mrs and the Misses Plowden and their guests, and the latter took their seats in the old family coach. Spinks and I mounted the horses, the black servants and the baggage-horses followed, and with many bows and waves of the hands the cavalcade moved forward. The carriage rolled creakingly on, pitching and tumbling and bumping over the stones and into the ruts in the road. Frequently I moved up to the window to exchange words with its occupants. They both expressed their anxiety for the time when they might dismiss the vehicle and mount on horseback. At first the country was very uninteresting, but by degrees it improved, and rich undulating ground and hills and fertile valleys, here and there dotted with cottages and flocks and herds, were seen on every side. As we proceeded, men in half-military uniform, working in the fields, would look up and inquire whence we came and where we were going, but they were easily satisfied with the civil answers we gave them.

It was late in the day before we drove into the courtyard of a house very similar in character to that we had lately left. We were not expected, but a note from Mr Plowden explained matters, and we were cordially received by the ladies of the family. The master was with the army, so were his sons. One had already fallen in the unfortunate strife. I at first was received with some stiffness. I could not expect it to be otherwise; but that soon wore off, and I felt myself as one of the family. I must not delay in describing each event of our journey.

A truly Indian summer morning ushered in the next day. In high spirits Miss Carlyon mounted her horse, as did her aunt, and with kind well-wishes from our late hosts we trotted out of the courtyard. They felt great relief from the noise and jolting of the old coach. The old black coachman gazed after us with a look of reproach, as if he thought we had no business to be merry after we had deserted him. That day’s ride was to me one of the most perfect enjoyment. Scarcely for a moment did I leave Madeline’s side, and every instant knit my heart closer and closer to her. I forgot all that the future might bring forth, all the difficulties to be encountered; the months, perhaps years, of separation, before I could hope by any possibility to call her mine, and revelled only in the present. I could not tell what she might think or feel. I dared not ask, lest the delightful enchantment by which I was surrounded might be rudely broken. She eagerly listened to all I said, smiled and blushed and—but I won’t go on. I knew that I loved her, and I thought she loved me. Spinks was an excellent companion on such an occasion; silent and phlegmatic, he occasionally only would ride up to offer a few remarks to Mrs Tarleton, and then would drop astern and seem lost in his own reflections. As the day advanced, signs of war’s malign effects began to appear. Poor fellows, with bandaged heads and arms in slings, were met limping and crawling along. Hedges and walls, overturned cottages, and whole hamlets burned to the ground. The tide of war had during the summer swept over this part of the Jerseys. The mischief we saw was, however, chiefly effected by foraging parties from the British forces, especially by the Hessians, so dreaded and hated by the colonists.

“Two causes have alienated all true hearts from the British crown in this country,” observed Mrs Tarleton. “The supercilious manner of the civil and especially of the military officers sent from England towards the colonists, and the attempt to coerce them with foreign mercenaries. We could have borne unjust laws and taxes, because they could be repealed; but the pride of all the gentlemen of the land has been aroused not to be quelled, except by entire separation from those who could thus insult them.”

We were within a few miles of that magnificent stream, the Delaware River, when we gained sufficiently exact information to enable us to guide our future course. The British fleet, under Lord Howe, had complete command of the lower part of the river. The city of Philadelphia, lately the seat of Government, had fallen into the hands of the army under General Howe, after the battle of Brandywine, when Washington had been compelled to retreat. General Howe, it appeared, had neglected to take advantage of his success, and the patriot forces, emboldened by, his inaction, were about to attack him again, when a terrific storm of rain prevented the engagement. After this the British troops, having advanced to Germaintown, were vigorously attacked by the whole patriot army, and victory seemed inclined to their standard when, the Americans becoming separated by a thick fog, a panic seized them, and they made a precipitate retreat. General Washington’s army, we heard, was now at a place called White Marsh, about fourteen miles from Philadelphia. Thither Mrs Tarleton resolved immediately to proceed, in the hopes of meeting her brother, who, though wounded, was still, she heard, with his regiment.

As both shores of the Delaware were now in possession of the British, there was much chance of our falling in with some of their troops. Strange as it may appear, I felt very anxious to avoid them. I could not bear the idea of exposing my charges to the scrutiny and the inquiries to which they would be subject, though my presence would, I trusted, prevent their being exposed to any personal annoyance. We accordingly turned our horses’ heads to the north, intending to cross the river at a spot a considerable distance above Philadelphia. We had travelled some miles without meeting anyone from whom we could make inquiries. I began to be somewhat anxious, fearing that the peasantry might have concealed themselves in consequence of the approach of an enemy, and I was on the point of begging Lieutenant Spinks to ride forward and make inquiries, when a cloud of dust rose up from a valley before us, and the dull heavy tramp of a body of men was heard ascending the winding road up the hill. I instantly reined up and drew my companions on one side, where they were concealed by a small clump of trees, while I advanced with Spinks a little way in front, each of us waving a white handkerchief, to show that we were there with no hostile intent.

“They are the enemy!” cried Spinks. “Oh, the villains! May they all be—”

“Which enemy?” I asked, forgetting for a moment that he was an American.

“The scoundrel Hessians,” he answered with an oath. “They are the last people I would wish to have met.”

I agreed with him, but there was no time to be lost, as we could distinguish the advanced guard with their glittering arms and dark uniforms coming over the brow of the hill. No sooner were we perceived than several men advanced at double quick step and surrounded us. We could not make ourselves understood, so, holding Sir Peter Parker’s letter in my hand, and pointing to my uniform, I signified that I wished to be conducted to their colonel. By this time a halt was called. A light company was sent out as skirmishers into the wood through which we had passed, and the officer I asked for rode up in front. He looked at my naval jacket, and then at the militiaman’s uniform, and evidently regarded us with no little suspicion. I found, however, that he could speak English, and I endeavoured rapidly to explain matters.

“A very odd story this you tell me,” he answered. “How can you expect me to believe you?”

I handed him Sir Peter’s letter.

“I do not know his handwriting. This may be a forgery,” said he. The colonel was a weather-beaten, stern, wary old man. I have seldom met a person less likely to be moved by any of the gentler sympathies of our nature.

“I’ll tell you what it is, colonel. I was left for dead, near New York, by some of your people, and this sea-officer here came up and saved my life, and that’s the reason I came along with him,” exclaimed Spinks, who was excessively indignant at our statement being doubted.

The mention of New York reminded me of the narrow escape I had had of my life on the day to which Spinks alluded, and I thought I recognised in the man before me the officer in charge of the party of Hessians who so nearly finished Simeon and me when General Pigot came up to our rescue. I asked the colonel if he recollected the circumstance. He smiled grimly.

“I think I recollect the circumstance,” said he; “but what has that to do with the matter?”

“Simply that you thought I was a rebel then, and you found that you were mistaken, and in the same way that you will find you are mistaken now if you molest me.”

Scarcely had I ceased speaking when a shriek resounded through the wood. I knew too well whence it proceeded. I wheeled round my horse, and, putting my spurs into his side, was in a moment at the spot where I had left the two ladies and their attendants. I found them surrounded by Hessian soldiers, some of whom were attempting to catch hold of their horses’ heads and to drag them from their saddles. I drew a sword from the scabbard of the first man I reached, and before he could look round I had dashed in among the miscreants, cutting at them right and left. I felt maddened with rage, and thought not of the consequences. Madeline saw me coming, and held out her hands to implore my aid. I reached her just as a soldier had succeeded in catching the bridle of her horse and had almost dragged her to the ground. With a blow of my sword I sent the fellow reeling backwards, and placed her in her saddle. Mrs Tarleton had managed hitherto to elude the soldiers; but in another instant they would have closed in on her, when Spinks, followed by the Hessian colonel, galloped up.

The appearance of the latter prevented the soldiers from attacking her. He ordered them back into their ranks. I pointed to the pale and terrified ladies, and asked him if this was the way Germans behaved towards helpless women. He looked ashamed and attempted to apologise. I saw my advantage and pushed it to the utmost.

“They are anxious to visit a wounded, perhaps a dying, relation, and you threaten to delay them,” said I.

“We cannot allow people to wander about, and perhaps give notice of our expedition,” replied the colonel.

“As to that, colonel, depend on it, every step you take is well known to General Washington, and if he does not attack you it is because he does not think it worth while,” put in Spinks, in his amusingly independent manner.

The Hessian officer looked as if he would like to eat him.

“Well, sir,” said I, “you have every proof I can give you of the correctness of my statement. You see what Sir Peter Parker says. Will you allow my party to proceed?”

The colonel must have seen that we could in reality not do him the slightest injury by any information we could give as to his movements, so after some more conversation he ordered his detachment to advance, while he remained with us. It was with much satisfaction that I saw them march by, casting no very friendly looks at us.

“Now proceed as fast as you can,” said the grim old officer. “My men are rather unmanageable at times. They might have attempted to revenge themselves for the way you treated their comrades, though on my word you were perfectly right.”

We thanked the gruff old man for his courtesy. I suspect that he had a softer heart than he would have wished to appear under his rough exterior, and, taking his hint, moved on as rapidly as our horses would carry us to the northward.

I will not repeat the indignant expressions uttered by Mrs Tarleton at the conduct of the Hessians. I could only blush for my country, and bitterly regret that such men were employed in that fratricidal warfare. Madeline expressed her thanks to me, rather by her looks than her words. She said little, afraid of wounding my feelings, but I suspect that the behaviour of the Hessians made her abandon any sympathy for the Tories which she might have entertained. Every now and then we looked round to see that none of the Hessians were following us. Their march could be traced by the fields trampled down—cottages unroofed or burnt—stacks of corn scattered about, and walls and hedges overturned. It showed the utterly unprotected condition of New Jersey at the time—that no opposition was offered them in their progress. For my part I felt that the patriot cause was hopeless, and it was with a secret feeling of gratification that I pictured to myself the service I might render to my friends when the royal cause should finally triumph, and all ranks be compelled to submit. I did not venture to ask Mrs Tarleton what opinion she had formed from the aspect of affairs, but she apparently divined my thoughts.

“It is very sad to behold all this,” she remarked, pointing to the devastated country. “But, Mr Hurry, do not be mistaken. Those who come to conquer us little know the amount of endurance possessed by the Anglo-Saxon race, if they fancy that we are about to succumb because they have laid waste our fields, cut down our fruit-trees, and burned our villages, or because our undisciplined troops have in some instances been compelled to retreat before them. I tell you, Mr Hurry, we shall be victorious in the end.”

Soon after this we came to a spot where three roads branched off before us. We hesitated which to take, and not a person was to be seen to inquire our way. That to the right led, it appeared to me, in the direction we wished to proceed. We took it, and shortly began to ascend a steep hill among trees, now richly tinted with the varied hues of autumn, though many of the leaves had already fallen, and thickly strewed the ground. Never had my eye rested on such gorgeous colouring as that wooded height presented. Madeline and I could not refrain from reining up our horses, and turning round to enjoy the superb view which lay spread out before us over the country across which we had lately passed. At our feet was a broad valley, with a succession of undulating hills beyond, and fields and orchards and cottages sprinkled about. There were to be seen groves of the delicate straw-tinted beech, and the ruddy maple, with its shades of brightest yellow and green, and oak forests of a dark copper hue, as if changed into metal by an enchanter’s wand, and in the hollows, dark patches of the sombre cypress of North America, which delights to grow in the stagnant marsh; nor was the graceful birch with its white stem, or the willow, wanting to add variety to the woodland scene. To our right the majestic stream of the broad Delaware wound round from the north-west towards the city of Philadelphia, now the head-quarters of General Howe’s victorious army. While we were looking across the valley at the wood into which the Hessian troops had passed, we saw several men appear at the outskirts. After looking about them, it seemed to us, they descended rapidly the hill. Others followed, and it appeared as if the main body were making a retrograde movement, and perhaps might march along the very road we were taking. At all events I was anxious not to expose my charges to any fresh insults, and therefore once more put the party in movement. Spinks volunteered to ride back to ascertain in what direction the Hessians were about to march. He promised not to expose himself unnecessarily, and to overtake us speedily, so I saw no objection to his proposal.

We rode on as fast as the horses could go, without risk of falling over the very rough and ill-formed road. It was late in the day, and still Spinks had not overtaken us. I began to feel anxious about him, for I knew that, should he fall into the hands of the Hessians, he would have very little mercy to expect from them. After what had occurred they would probably look upon him as a spy, and hang him without ceremony. I thought of sending back one of the servants who had charge of the baggage-horses, to try and learn something about him, but Caractacus, the negro in question, positively refused to go.

“If Massa Spinks dead, Cractus no make him live again,” he argued. “If he live, he come back of his self.”

There was no controverting this opinion, so we continued our journey. We at last came to a cottage, in which was an old woman almost deaf and blind. After much interrogation, I found that her two sons had gone to the wars with General Washington, and that a daughter-in-law who lived with her was away to get some provisions, and, what was of importance to us, that we were on the road we had wished to take. We had still a league to go before reaching the house at which Mrs Tarleton wished to rest before crossing the river. Spinks knew of it, so we hoped that he would rejoin us there. There was something very genuine about that poor fellow. I had done him a service, and he wished to do me one, so I could not help taking a liking to him. Both Mrs Tarleton and her niece had become somewhat anxious about our friend. The shades of evening grew rapidly denser, for the twilight in that latitude is short, and still he did not appear. We could not, however, stop for him, and it became at last so dark that we could scarcely find the entrance to the house at which we were to stop. It seemed a long, low building, surrounded by a courtyard and walls, with several out-houses and gardens and orchards outside. I made out an entrenchment in front, with a wooden bridge over a moat, and then a stone wall with some massive gates. After ringing for some time they were opened, and several armed men appeared on either side. As we rode on to the hall door there appeared a blaze of light inside, and a tall, dignified old gentleman came down the steps to assist the ladies to dismount.

“I am glad to welcome you and your niece to my house under any circumstances, Mrs Tarleton,” said he, as he led them up the steps. “But you find us somewhat in marshal array just now, and I am afraid may be put to some inconvenience. The enemy’s troops have crossed the river, and it has been considered necessary to fortify this post.”

“I can never complain of any inconvenience in our noble cause,” said Mrs Tarleton.

I knew well that not only would she cheerfully bear any inconvenience, but would glory in any suffering or hardship she might be called on to endure on account of it.

The public rooms, as we passed along, were, I perceived, filled with a number of persons, some in military uniforms, and others in the dresses of civilians. I was formally introduced, and though at first I was received with some restraint, in a little time the manner of the host and his numerous guests became as cordial as if I was an old friend, instead of belonging to the party of their enemies. There were no ladies or any females left of the family. They had all been sent off to another house some way into the interior, to which it was believed the enemy were not likely to penetrate.

From what I could learn, it was not at all improbable that the house, which commanded a reach of the river, might be attacked before long, and I was therefore very anxious to get my friends across it, and once more on their journey towards head-quarters. Mrs Tarleton, however, seemed to think that she might wait safely till the next morning, and, as no news of the British troops had been brought in, I hoped that the delay would not bring them into any danger. Supper was over, and the officers of the little garrison not on guard had retired to their rooms. I had one allotted to me, looking out on the river, which shone with a silvery hue from the light of an almost full moon, while the swill of the stream, as it rushed by, had a pleasing and soothing effect. I could hear, ever and anon, the distant bark of a dog, the tramp and challenge of the sentries, and the voices of some of the men of a militia regiment quartered in the out-houses and in some hastily-constructed huts within the courtyard.

My mind was occupied with too many thoughts to allow me to sleep. After several attempts I gave it up. My companions in the room were much in the same condition, and as they rose and resumed their outer clothing, I did the same. They proposed making the round of the works, and I asked leave to accompany them. Scarcely had we reached the front door when voices were heard, and the clatter of a horse’s hoofs in the courtyard.

“A scout has come in, and will bring us news of the enemy,” observed one of the officers. “Let us hear what he has to report.”

In another second the light of the lamp in the hall fell on the countenance of the newcomer, and I recognised my friend Lieutenant Spinks. His dress was bespattered with mud from head to foot; his horse shook in every limb as he dismounted; his head was bare, his countenance was pale as death, and through a rent in his coat I saw the blood oozing slowly out.

“They are coming!” he exclaimed. “The rascally Hessians! I have been watching them all the evening to ascertain which way they were taking. I got too close at last, and was discovered by one of their pickets, just as they were getting under arms. They are going to make a night-attack on this place. Of that I am certain.”

The senior officer in the house, Colonel Barlow, now came down, and Spinks made him a full report of his adventures. He had run a great risk of being taken, and I was truly glad that he had escaped. There seemed to be no doubt that the Hessian troops were advancing to attack the house. The officers assembled were unanimous in the opinion that they could defend it. Every one was instantly on foot. Loop-holes had been cut in all the walls. They were at once occupied by men. Some light field-pieces defended the front of the house—the weakest point; some men were stationed on the roof; the bridge over the moat was drawn in, and, indeed, every preparation was made to stand a siege.

In the midst of the preparations Mrs Tarleton appeared in the hall among the officers collected there. Her countenance was as calm, and her voice, when she spoke, as firm as if nothing unusual was occurring.

“You will be able to hold this fort against those wretched mercenaries, I hope, Colonel Barlow?”

The colonel replied that he had no doubt about it.

“Then we will remain and see the result,” she answered. “I cannot bear the thought of running away when so many of my countrymen are exposed to danger.”

“While such are the sentiments of our women, our cause is sure to triumph, madam,” said the colonel. “Still it is my duty to try and persuade you not to expose yourself and niece. The fortune of war is always uncertain. Independent of the risk you run from the shot of the enemy, we may be overcome, and then your fate would be a sad one. It will be wise in you if you will consent to leave us at once. A boat is being made ready to ferry you across the river, and on the other side the country is occupied by patriot troops.”

Still Mrs Tarleton would not consent to go. She knew that her presence would encourage the garrison to resist to the utmost. I would very much rather for her sake, and especially for that of her niece, that she had gone at once to a place of safety. As, however, I must, at all events, be a non-combatant, I felt that I could remain by their side and aid their escape. The better to be able to do this, I set off at once to examine the situation of the place, and to see that the boat was in perfect readiness to cross the river. Caractacus and his companion, I found, were both accustomed to pull an oar. There was a horse-boat also at hand, and as there would probably be time before the attack commenced, I got Colonel Barlow to allow the horses and baggage to be conveyed across at once, and left at a farm-house of which he told me, at a short distance from the banks. I directed Caractacus and Sambo, as soon as they had performed this duty, to return at once, so as to be ready for any emergency.

“Is, massa, we come back and fight de Hessians; oh, ki, berry likely,” exclaimed the negro, giving a poke with his elbow at his sable companion’s ribs.

The other grinned, as if he considered the bare possibility of his doing such a thing a very good joke. I saw that I could not very well depend on them.

“No, I don’t want you to fight, only to help the ladies escape; you understand me? I promise you a dollar each if I find you at the boat when I come down.”

The negroes understood this sort of reasoning better than any argument I had used, and promised obedience. Had Mrs Tarleton, however, known beforehand of the arrangements I had made, I believe she would have countermanded them, so confident was she on all occasions of the success of her party. When any defeat had occurred, she evidently looked on it as an exception to the general rule, or rather as a means to the victorious termination of the strife.

By the time I had made all the arrangements I had described it was past midnight. Some of the gentlemen retired again to their beds, but I with others sat up. My position was rather a curious one. Here was I, a guest in an enemy’s camp, with the prospect of an engagement, and unable to side with either party. Certainly, however, I could not have been treated more kindly or courteously than I was by the Americans on that occasion. A party of a dozen or more of us were sitting smoking and chatting in the large plank-lined dining-hall, by the light of a huge fire, when a sergeant of militia entered with the announcement that several scouts had come in, reporting that the enemy were advancing, and were not more than a couple of miles off. In less than an hour, then, we might expect an attack. I have never felt more anxious than I did on that occasion. Immediately all within the house were on the alert; the walls were manned; the wooden bridge hauled up, the guns loaded and run out, and every preparation was made to repel the assault. Being myself very doubtful of the result, I looked about for a place where the ladies might remain in comparative safety. The most secure spot was a root house, where stores of vegetables are kept during the winter. There, at least, no shot could reach my friends, and as it was on the side nearest the river, they might more easily escape thence to the boat. Having found a piece of matting, I carried it, with some chairs and cloaks, to the place, and then returned to beg Mrs Tarleton to take shelter there. She laughed at my proposal.

“What! do you think that the women of America are accustomed to skulk from their enemies when their presence may avail to encourage their friends, and they may be of use to the wounded?” she answered, looking at the same time towards Madeline, in the expectation that she would utter her sentiments.

“Perhaps, dear aunt, we might be of more use out of the way of danger, in some place where, should any of our friends be wounded, they might be brought to us,” remarked her niece, “especially as Mr Hurry has so considerately prepared a refuge for us.”

Still nothing Madeline or I could say could move Mrs Tarleton from her purpose. At length Colonel Barlow came to our aid, and so strongly urged the point that she appeared inclined to give in. We were standing at the moment in the centre of the dining-hall. Our conversation was interrupted by the loud report of musketry—the pattering of the bullets against the roof and sides of the house—the louder roar of the field-pieces—the cries and shouts of the men within the building, and of their unseen assailants. The colonel and his officers hurried off instantly to the defences. Madeline trembled; even Mrs Tarleton turned pale. Several shots found their way into the room where we were. The shouts of the assailants grew louder; the bullets fell thicker and thicker. A bright glare burst forth. One of the out-houses had caught fire. Two wounded men were brought in and placed on the ground. Mrs Tarleton and her niece knelt down by their sides. I assisted. Madeline, I observed, had ceased to tremble while employed in her work of mercy. One poor fellow soon ceased to breathe; he had been shot through the lungs. The other groaned heavily; the haemorrhage was internal. I soon saw that their efforts to aid him were of little avail. He quickly joined his companion in another world. For a minute or more there was a cessation of the attack: then it began again with greater fury than before, and the bullets came pattering against the walls like hail, many finding their way into the room. I seized Mrs Tarleton’s hand, exclaiming—

“Come, madam! no woman should remain thus unnecessarily exposed.”

Madeline took her other hand, and together we led her through the garden to the place I had prepared for their reception.

Chapter Twelve.

The Americans overpowered.—Spinks assists us to escape.—Cross river.—Reach Washington’s camp.—Interview with the great chief.—Mrs Tarleton finds her brother, Colonel Hallet, wounded.—My stay in the camp.—An affair of outposts.—Farewell to Madeline.—Quit the camp, accompanied by Spinks.—After many adventures rejoin the tender.

Madeline and I endeavoured to hurry along Mrs Tarleton, but she appeared totally insensible to the dangerous position in which she and her niece were placed. Several bullets came whizzing by us, but she kept her head as erect as would the oldest veteran. I had almost to drag her on, and I was very thankful when at length we reached the door of the building unscathed. I had told Lieutenant Spinks where to find us, should he wish to communicate with the ladies.

In spite of his wound, he had joined in the defence of the place. Not so Caractacus and Sambo. When we entered, I saw two bundles among the piled-up turnips and potatoes. I gave a kick at them, and out tumbled our two sable attendants.

“Oh, ki, massa, is dat you?” exclaimed the first, springing to his feet. “Come along—dis no good place for any wise man. We get across de river, and away from dese Hesse devils.”

“All in good time,” I answered. “Do you take care of the ladies while I go and learn the state of affairs.”

It was now the part of Mrs Tarleton and Madeline to press me to stay, and not to expose myself to danger. I promised to obey in the latter point, but urged the necessity of ascertaining how matters were progressing, that I might judge whether we might safely remain where we were, or whether it would be better at once to cross the river. Unwillingly they let me go. I managed to climb up to the top of a wall. A glance showed me that a considerable body of men were engaged in the attack, and that they were well provided with field-pieces, which were already making some impression on the walls. Two of the out-houses were in flames; the roof of the main building had caught fire, and men were engaged in extinguishing it, while the number of the killed and wounded was very considerable. I felt convinced that, heroically as the garrison were defending themselves, they could not long hold out. With this conviction I returned to my friends, and urged Mrs Tarleton to allow me to conduct her at once to the boat. While she was still hesitating, Lieutenant Spinks rushed into the vault, blood streaming from his arm. “All is lost!” he exclaimed. “Fly, ladies, fly, or those villainous Hessians will be up to us before you can escape. The colonel is making a stout resistance, and may keep them back for some time, but he ordered me to come on and hasten your flight.”

After hearing this, I was determined that there should be no further delay; so, sending the negroes on to the boat, we took the ladies’ arms and followed as rapidly as they could walk. Not for a moment would I allow them to stop and look back.

The boat was in readiness: we stepped in. I urged Spinks to come also, as with his wound he could be of no further use. I had, however, almost to force him on board. Without a moment’s delay we shoved off. I put Spinks at the helm, and took an oar. The blacks seized the other two, and there was no necessity to tell them to pull away lustily. We were only just in time. The shouts and shrieks and cries increased. Thick flew the bullets—many passing over our heads. The flames grew brighter; the main building was on fire, and burned furiously. By its bright glare we could distinguish the dark figures of the combatants—the assailants climbing over the walls on either hand, and the defenders of the place in detached parties, still desperately endeavouring to oppose them. Suddenly trumpets sounded, voices were heard calling loudly, and there was a cessation of firing. We pulled on, however, across the river, for I thought very likely that, if we were discovered by the victors, we should be fired at, and compelled to return. The ruddy glare was reflected on the broad stream, and the banks were lighted up by the flames of the burning house, so that we had no difficulty in finding our way across to the right landing-place.

The farmer in whose charge the horses had been left, brought them out as soon as we appeared. “I would ask you to stay,” he said, “but I know not how soon the enemy may come upon us. You must take a stirrup-cup, though; it will do the hearts of the poor ladies good. They want something to keep up their spirits, I’m sure.” I forget the mixture that was produced. I know that it was very good, though the ladies would not be prevailed on to do more than taste it. Lieutenant Spinks would allow us to make only a very short delay to get his wound washed and bound up, declaring all the time that it was of very little consequence. “I’m well accustomed to shot-holes by this time, I guess, so never fear,” said he. I must say this for him, that he was decidedly a very plucky fellow, and was, I suspect, a fair sample of the men who won independence for America. The good-natured farmer then ordered a lad on horseback to show us the way, and uttered many hearty good wishes for our safety. “None of the enemy are to the north of us, so I think you may reach the camp without difficulty,” he remarked. He asked no questions about me. I suspect that Caractacus and Sambo had fully enlightened him.

We pushed on for the remainder of the night, and did not even draw rein till morning dawned. It was wonderful how well the ladies endured the fatigue they were undergoing; not a complaint escaped either of them; indeed, Mrs Tarleton seemed rather to glory in the hardships she was undergoing.

Instead of striking at once into the country, we kept to the north, so as to make a circuit towards the spot where it was understood General Washington was then encamped. I tried to persuade Spinks to stop and rest, but on he would go, as long as his horse would carry him. Our steeds, however, at last began to knock up, and we were glad to discover a farm-house among the trees a couple of hundred yards from the road. The inmates received us cordially. Breakfast was instantly placed before us, and a room prepared where the ladies might lie down and seek that rest they so much required. The farmer put Spinks into an arm-chair, and scarcely had he finished his breakfast than he leant back and fell fast asleep. I felt much inclined to follow his example, but our host would not let me. He wanted to hear all about us, and, to do him justice, he was ready to impart an abundance of information in return. Unaccustomed to the sight of uniforms, it never occurred to him that I was a British officer, and from the far-from-pleasant way he spoke of my countrymen, I felt no inclination to enlighten him. What surprised me most was to hear of the disorganised state of Washington’s army—the want of food and clothing from which it was suffering, and the utter insufficiency of all the commissariat arrangements. The wonder was how, in such a condition, the American forces could withstand General Howe’s well-supplied, and well-disciplined troops.

“I’ll tell you what it is,” observed the farmer; “one has a just cause, and the other hasn’t—that’s the difference.”

I did not tell him that there were two sides to that opinion, and that some people might consider the royal cause the just one.

A three hours’ rest refreshed all our party as well as our horses, and we were once more in the saddle. No further incident of importance occurred till in the afternoon we came suddenly on an outlying picket of the patriot forces.

The main body of Washington’s army was at this time encamped at a place called White Marsh, about fourteen miles to the north of Philadelphia. We had approached it from the north-east. The officer in command of the picket came forward, and Mrs Tarleton explained who she was, and her object in visiting the camp.

“Can you give me any information respecting my brother, Colonel Hallet?” she asked with an anxious voice.

“Colonel Hallet is alive, madam, but he requires more rest than he obtains,” answered the officer with a grave look. “I see him often, but I cannot report favourably of him.”

I saw that more was implied than was said. While this conversation was going on, I brought my horse close up to that of Miss Carlyon. I could not but realise to myself that the moment of our parting had arrived. The thought sent a pang, such as I had never before felt, through my heart. Madeline herself looked grave and sad. Was it the account of her uncle’s state of health which made her so or was it—vain puppy that I felt myself—because we were about to part—perhaps for ever.

How distant the prospect appeared, with the numberless vicissitudes of a sailor’s life intervening, when we might hope to meet again! Could we venture to indulge that hope? Should we ever meet? Should I not rather be prepared to part for ever? I would not allow myself to be overcome by a thought so full of agony.

“Miss Carlyon!” I gasped out, and I drew my breath, while I felt as if I could not utter another word.

“Hurricane Hurry!” said a low voice within me, “what are you about? Act like a man!” However, I did not feel a bit the wiser. “Miss Carlyon,” I began again, “I have almost completed the duty I was sent on. You and your aunt will soon be within the lines of General Washington’s camp.”

She looked very grave, and I thought pained. I continued: “I must now return with all speed to my ship, though—though—” I could not for the life of me find words to express what I wanted to say.

“Mr Hurry must be aware how deep an obligation he has conferred upon my aunt, and we should have been glad if we could have avoided making his duty irksome,” said Miss Carlyon in a low, deep voice, while the colour came into her cheeks for an instant and then fled, leaving her paler than before.

I was certain her voice trembled as she uttered the last words.

“Irksome!” I exclaimed. “Oh, Miss Carlyon, how could you for a moment think so? It has been the most delightful duty I ever performed. Duty did I call it? It has been unspeakable joy and happiness to me, almost from the time you came on board my vessel, to feel that I was of service to you; that you were under my care and protection. Day after day that feeling increased, till it has grown into a part of my being. It would be my delight to feel that I could spend my life in the same way. Why should I conceal it? You may not care for me—you will return to your own people, and perhaps scarcely ever cast a thought on the rough sailor who is tossing about on the wild ocean; but he never, never can forget the days of intense happiness he has passed in your society, in watching your every look, in serving you with a true and faithful love—in—”

The temper of the Hurrys was breaking forth with a vengeance.

“Oh no, no; do not say those words!” she exclaimed; “I do—I do regard you with—with—deeper feeling than I ought. Can you ask me to say more? But oh, Mr Hurry, this dreadful war!”

“Madeline, the war will end; the time will come when you may be mine!” I exclaimed vehemently. “Will you—will you then consent?”

“Mr Hurry, I will,” she answered calmly. “If you come and claim me, you will find me true. Some women never love more than once. Yet I will not bind you. You have your profession to occupy you. Your family may disdain a rebel’s child with her property confiscated. You may wander to all parts of the world: you will see numberless women—many very far superior to me—you may—”

I interrupted her with a vehement exclamation of denial as to the possibility of anything she suggested occurring. I need not repeat all I said—all the vows I uttered. I did not believe that mortal power could make me break them.

We had remained somewhat behind the rest of the party while Mrs Tarleton was speaking to the officer of the picket, and Lieutenant Spinks was gaining information as to the road we were to take to reach head-quarters. It was now time to move on. Anxious as I was not to part from Madeline till the last moment, I felt that, as an officer of the Royalist party, I ought to offer to remain in the outskirts of the camp; but to my great satisfaction Mrs Tarleton at once overruled my objections.

“Our friends will wish to thank you for the great service you have rendered us, and you will require a few hours’ rest at least before you commence your return journey,” she observed.

Madeline’s look I thought said, “Do not go yet;” so I agreed to the proposal. The marks of recent strife were sadly evident along the road over which we passed, in the blackened remains of houses, woods cut down, and fences destroyed.

We passed through several other pickets till we finally came to where a considerable body of troops were encamped within intrenchments, and with some rugged hills in front. Among the troops was a corps of fine, tall, active-looking young men, whose uniforms and accoutrements were in the most perfect order. Accustomed as I had been to see the ill-clothed, various-sized, undisciplined militia, I was particularly struck by their appearance.

“Those are General Washington’s guards,” observed Mrs Tarleton. “He has much need of such men; for, though prizing the lives of those under him, he is sadly careless of his own. He himself is, I do not doubt, not far-off.”

We had not ridden a hundred yards when we saw before us a group of mounted officers in handsome uniforms, with plumes nodding and arms glittering. I had somehow or other pictured to myself the rebel generals as a dingy-looking set, like the Covenanters of old, or Cromwell’s Invincibles, and I could scarcely persuade myself that those I saw were officers of the enemy’s army. Among them rode one whom the eye would not fail to single out from the rest—tall, handsome, and graceful—the noble expression of his countenance showed that he had the right to command. I was struck, too, with the way in which he managed his horse, and sat on his saddle. He was an enemy and a rebel; but for the life of me I could not help pulling off my hat and bowing low, when, as he saw Mrs Tarleton, he rode forward to greet her. I guessed he could be no other than the renowned chief General Washington. Among the officers were Generals Sullivan, Wayne, and Woodford; Lord Stirling, a gallant Scotchman, who in spite of his rank had joined the patriots; the noble Frenchman, the Marquis Lafayette, and his veteran German friend the Baron De Kalb; as also Generals Irvine, Reed, and other native officers. Their appearance was very military, but I had no eye for anyone but the commander-in-chief. He bowed to Madeline, and took Mrs Tarleton’s hand in a most kind and courteous manner, while his voice as he spoke was gentle and melodious.

“I gladly welcome you to our camp, madam, deeply as I mourn the cause which has brought you here. Your gallant brother is still with us. One of my aides-de-camp will conduct you to his quarters. You will, I fear, find Colonel Hallet much changed. He should long ago have retired from active duty, but his patriotism overcame all suggestions of prudence. I would that all who advocate the independence of our country were like him!”

Mrs Tarleton made a brief answer. She was anxious to hurry to her brother. A short conversation, however, first ensued between her and the general, which I did not overhear; then, calling me up, she introduced me formally and explained who I was. General Washington received me in the frankest manner.

“I am happy to welcome one who has been of so much service to those I highly esteem, and Mr Hurry may be assured that he will find none but friends as long as he thinks fit to remain in this camp.”

I made a suitable reply, regretting that duty must summon me so speedily away.

“Perhaps you will have reason to alter your intention,” said Mrs Tarleton with marked emphasis. “I will make you known to Lord Stirling and other friends; they may have more success than I have had in proving to you which is the right side of the question.”

Madeline looked at me, and I thought she seemed to say, “Oh, I wish they may succeed!”

General Washington simply remarked, “At all events, Mr Hurry is welcome here as long as he stays with us. I hope to have the pleasure of his company at dinner to-day.”

Several of the other officers came forward and spoke to me very kindly, and by the general’s directions a junior aide-de-camp attached himself to me, while another accompanied Mrs Tarleton and her niece to Colonel Hallet’s quarters.

As they rode away I could do no more than take a hurried and formal farewell of them both—I dared scarcely hope that I should be able to see them again. Lieutenant Spinks had several friends in the camp, with one of whom he intended to take up his quarters. He promised to call for me if I persisted in my resolution to commence our return journey on the following day. I found Captain Douglas, the officer in whose charge I was placed, a very pleasing, gentlemanly man. To avoid giving any cause of suspicion, I refrained from moving about without first asking him if I could walk in that direction, and I thus soon gained his good opinion, as he fully appreciated the motive of my conduct.

As the dinner-hour approached he took me to his tent, where I might get rid of the dust of my journey. It was pitched close to a farm-house occupied by the general. A barn attached to the farm-house, and hastily fitted up, served as a dining-hall and council-chamber. Here a number of officers, mostly generals and colonels, were assembled. I, a midshipman, felt very small among them; and certainly the attention which was paid me by so many great people was well calculated to turn my head. However, I was wide awake enough to know that all is not gold that glitters. From what I had previously heard, and from what I saw when passing through the camp, I could not help discovering that the American forces were in many respects in a very bad condition, ill-fed and worse clothed. Whole corps were in a very ragged state, and some were almost shoeless, and entirely stockingless. This in the summer was bad enough, but with winter coming on, it was enough to disorganise the whole army.

The feast to which I had been invited was, considering the state of affairs I have described, a very grand one. Everyone was in good spirits, and laughed and talked with the greatest freedom. I could scarcely believe that these were the men who had lately been engaged in a deadly strife, and might any moment be called out to give battle to a well-disciplined and fierce enemy. The provisions were somewhat coarse, and probably not cooked by the most experienced of artists; but I had been accustomed to meet with much worse at sea, so that I did not think much about the matter. Toasts were drunk, healths were pledged, and I was frequently invited to take wine by the officers present, although some looked at me, I thought with eyes rather askance, as if they did not quite approve of an officer of the opposite cause being at large in the camp.

The party, however, did not sit long after dinner, and when it broke up, Douglas took me with him to his tent. “Come, we will have a cup of coffee together before you turn in,” said he, as we sat down; “I have a French servant who understands cooking it better than any man I ever met. You shall have at the same time a pipe of the true Virginia weed. No one produces better than does our general on his estate; and this he gave to me as being some of the very best he ever saw.”

I found my friend’s encomiums were fully justified by the excellence of the tobacco; nor was his coffee to be despised. Several officers looked in occasionally, and we had a very pleasant evening. They were, however, at last hurriedly summoned off, and I threw myself down on the camp bedstead my host had prepared for my use.

Weary as I was I could not sleep. Something I was certain was going forward. More than once my ear caught the not very distant rattle of musketry and the roar of cannon, and I could not help fearing that the camp itself might be the object of attack, and that Mrs Tarleton and Madeline might be involved in the confusion which must ensue, and perhaps exposed to greater danger than any they had yet escaped. I considered how I could find means of being of service to them. Unhappily I did not know my way to Colonel Hallet’s quarters, and should the necessity I apprehended arrive, I was not likely to find anybody to guide me to them.

Douglas had gone out; I felt that I ought not to leave the tent till his return as I might very naturally, by wandering about, have thereby exposed myself to the suspicion of some sinister motive; so I lay still, eagerly listening that I might make a guess at the way things were going by the sounds which reached my ears. Now and then there was a roll of a drum—now a bugle sounded—then the distant report of a field-piece, and next, a whole volley of musketry. I sat up with my arm resting on my pillow, ready to spring to my feet at a moment’s notice. I felt very sad. I could not bear the thought of not seeing Madeline again; and even should I see her, I knew that I must be prepared to part from her for an indefinite period—for many long years perhaps. How changed might she and I be by that time!

“It will not do to indulge in these thoughts,” I exclaimed, passing the palm of my hand to my brow; “they will unman me, or make me turn traitor. Traitor! ay, that’s the word. I must throw no false gloss over it. Deserter—a wretch, false to his flag! No, no; she herself would despise me. These men now in arms around me have never sworn allegiance to their sovereign; they have been forced into rebellion by ill-treatment and injustice, by numberless insults. I should have no such excuse. If I unite myself to them it will be for my own gratification alone. No, no, I’ll not do it.”

I must confess that many such discussions as this I had in my own mind at this period, but I resisted the tempter in whatever form he came. The firing ceased; still I listened, expecting it to recommence. At length Douglas returned:—

“An affair of outpost!” he remarked carelessly. “You were disturbed by the firing. Howe’s army is somewhat near at hand. He wishes to draw us into the lower ground, but General Washington knows the strength of our position, and the advantage it gives us, too well to be tempted out of it. The enemy has retired; you may rest in quiet for the remainder of the night.”

By daylight all the camp was astir. Lieutenant Spinks soon made his appearance. He looked pale, but said that his wound did not hurt him, and that he should be able to accompany me if I was ready to commence our return journey. I had no excuse to offer to myself for delay, but every reason for getting back to my vessel. I however frankly told Captain Douglas that I wished to bid farewell to the ladies I had escorted to the camp. I have an idea that he suspected how matters stood.

“We will ride to Colonel Hallet’s quarters directly after breakfast,” he answered promptly. “By that time they may be ready to receive you.”

Spinks promised in the interval to get the horses and servants prepared for the journey.

A frugal and somewhat hurried meal over, I set out with Captain Douglas. A ride of upwards of a mile over exceedingly rugged ground brought us to a hamlet of log huts. I remarked on the way the inaccessible nature of the ground, and saw the wisdom of Washington in holding it. I made no remark in reference to this, but we talked freely on various topics not immediately connected with the war. My heart beat quick as my companion pointed out a long low hut, and remarked—

“There lies poor Hallet, and I fear that he will never leave the place alive.”

The walls of the building consisted of long rough trunks of trees piled one on the other, the ends fitting at the angles together, and a scoop made in the lower log to admit the convex part of the upper one. Not that I remarked this at the time; all my thoughts were occupied with what was to occur. Douglas went to the door. It was opened by a soldier. After a minute’s delay he beckoned to me to follow him. In a small roughly-boarded room sat Mrs Tarleton and her niece. They rose, and the former took me cordially by the hand—

“Again I must thank you for enabling me to reach my poor brother in time to find him alive,” she said in a mournful voice.

I of course expressed my satisfaction of being of use, and looked to see what Madeline would say. I had taken her hand. She forgot to withdraw it.

“Indeed, indeed we are grateful,” she uttered in a low voice.

She could not trust herself to say more. I would have given much to have been alone with her, but I saw no chance of this. Perhaps it was better as it was. What she herself wished I could not tell. Mrs Tarleton showed no intention of leaving the room. I longed to say a great deal, but I felt tongue-tied. Captain Douglas had but little time to spare. He looked at his watch. I saw that I could no longer delay. I bade farewell to Mrs Tarleton. Madeline came to the door of the hut. I took her hand—it trembled in mine:—

“Oh! Mr Hurry,” she said in a low, faltering voice, “I will never, never forget you.”

Douglas had thrown himself on his horse. I leaped on mine and had to follow him at a gallop. Madeline was still standing at the door of the hut when a rocky height hid it from my view. Spinks was in readiness for a start with Caractacus and Sambo. We soon left the camp of the American army far behind, and pushed on for the Delaware. We crossed it some way up, for the British forces were now in possession of both banks for a considerable distance above Philadelphia. That city remained entirely in their hands. An attack had, however, I found from Spinks, been planned by the American generals to re-take it, but had been abandoned by Washington on account of the great loss of life it would have entailed.

In spite, however, of the general want of success of the patriots in the south, their spirits were raised, and their determination increased, to hold out by news of the surrender of General Burgoyne and his entire army to General Gates at Saratoga, as well as of the evacuation of Ticonderoga, and several forts on the Hudson, and the abandonment of a marauding expedition up that river from New York. We succeeded in crossing the Delaware without impediment; but we had no little difficulty, at times, to avoid falling in with the troops of the contending parties. Once or twice we had to gallop very hard to get out of their way. As Spinks observed, “It would be very disagreeable to be hung up as spies before we had time to explain who we were.” In spite of his weakness, he, poor fellow, bore up manfully, and I was truly sorry to part from him. At length we came in sight of Little Egg River, and, to my very great satisfaction, I caught a glimpse of the tender, directly opposite Mr Plowden’s house. I rode up to the door to restore him his horses, and to return him my thanks for their loan. He most kindly pressed me to remain a day with him, but I was anxious to be on board my vessel and once more at sea. Three cheers greeted me as I got alongside. Not a man had deserted, and Grampus gave me a favourable account of the behaviour of all hands. The tide and wind were fair for us. The anchor was hove up and sail was made. It was fortunate that I had not delayed. Scarcely were we under weigh when, through my glass, I saw a considerable body of troops with some light artillery march down to the beach. I doubted much whether Mr Plowden could have protected me. One or two shots came flying after us to make us heave-to, but the wind freshened. The little vessel glided swiftly on, till once more she bounded freely over the blue ocean. As I inhaled the fresh sea air I felt happier than I had done for many a day. I trimmed sails and stood away to the northward to rejoin the admiral off Newport.

Chapter Thirteen.

Rhode Island.—Sent to assist Syren and transport.—Frigate blows up.—Take a prize.—Grampus in charge.—Tender on her beam ends.—Join Sir Peter Parker on board Bristol.—My old messmates.—Appointed as lieutenant to the Chameleon and then to the Camel.—Sail for Gulf of Florida.—Fever.—War with France.—Once more at Jamaica.

I gave the land a wide berth, thereby getting fine weather, and with a fair breeze had a quick run for Rhode Island. I brought up close to the flag-ship, and hurried on board to make a report of such of my proceedings as I thought it incumbent on me to inform the admiral about. He was pleased to approve of all I had done, but when I mentioned the ladies, he looked hard at me as if he had read my secret.

“You’ll not wish to be idle, I know. Give your vessel a refit, and I shall have work for you before long,” said he with, I thought, a significant look.

I accordingly ran into harbour, hove the tender down, and in three days was ready for sea, when I received orders to accompany his Majesty’s ships Flora, Lark and Lady Parker tender to the assistance of the Syren frigate, which with a transport had run on shore at Point Judith, the people being made prisoners by the rebels.

At ten o’clock at night we, with the two frigates, dropped anchor about two miles off shore, having the wrecked ships just inside of us. We were not long allowed to remain in quietness before we were discovered by the enemy, who commenced a hot fire on us from three eighteen-pounders. As it was important not to allow the enemy to increase their force, four of our boats were instantly manned ready to proceed to the attack. The first lieutenant of the Chatham was sent in command of them, and each officer was furnished with a supply of combustibles, with directions to heave them on board the ships, so as to blow them up without delay. The first lieutenant of the Flora had charge of the second boat, the second of the Lark the third, and I commanded the fourth. We were all ready by eleven o’clock, when we pulled away towards the Syren. There was no use to attempt concealment, for we were conscious that our motions were narrowly watched; and this was proved when we approached the shore, for we were welcomed with a very warm salute of big guns and small-arms, the musket-balls and round-shot rattling round us in a far from pleasant manner. To add to the difficulties to be encountered, a heavy sea was running, which washed up alongside the stranded frigate, and created a considerable risk of causing the boats to be stove in.

“Pull away, my hearties, pull away!” sang out our gallant commanding officer. “We’ll make a short business of the work in hand when we once get alongside.”

He was as good as his word. In spite of the iron and leaden shower which rattled around us, we dashed on. The masts had gone by the board, but had been secured, and by this means a stage had been formed leading from the ship to the shore. Along this stage the enemy, till we drew near, were busily engaged in carrying off the stores and provisions out of the ship. When they saw us coming they gave up the work and poured instead a number of armed men on board. The bowmen stood ready, boat-hooks in hand, to hook on as the sea sent us surging alongside. When our boats rose to the top of the waves we tumbled in on deck through the ports, with our cutlasses in our teeth and all sorts of combustibles under our arms. The enemy did not like our looks, and as retreat was open to them they could not resist the temptation of taking advantage of it; so when we appeared through some of the headmost ports, they retired over the stern. To set fire to our grenades and other fiery engines of destruction, and to heave them down below and to scatter them fore and aft, was the work of little more than a minute. The enemy scarcely understood what we were about, or they would have tried to interrupt our proceedings. The effect of our combustibles was very rapid. A number of inflammable things were scattered about; they at once caught fire, and thick wreaths of smoke, followed by fierce flames, darted upwards on every side.

“To the boats! to the boats!” sang out our commander.

It was time indeed to be into them, for the fiery element was already surrounding many of the guns, which, being shotted, were going off as the touch-holes became heated. Almost enveloped in wreaths of smoke and fiercely crackling flames, we rushed to the ports, aware that any moment the ship might blow up and carry us high into the air. Explosion after explosion followed each other in rapid succession, giving us warning of what might occur. Our gallant leader got dreadfully burned. I saw him just as he was about to fall, I feared, into the flames. I grasped his arm, and together we leaped into the first boat we saw alongside.

“All hands quit the ship!” he shouted, before he would allow the boat to shove off.

No one, we were assured, was left behind. It was time to be free of her. Glad enough we were to pull away, and we soon had the satisfaction of seeing the other three boats free of the ship and pulling out to sea. Several of the crew of the boat had once belonged to the Syren.

“There goes the old girl. She deserved a better fate,” they exclaimed, as they watched the conflagration. “She keeps up her spirits to the last, though,” they added, as her guns were discharged one after the other in rapid succession—some of them doing, I suspect, some damage on shore, towards which their muzzles were pointed. We were saved the trouble of destroying the transport, for by some means or other she had caught fire, and before the enemy could get on board to put it out or to save any of her stores, she had burnt to the water’s edge. The enemy kept popping away at us while we pulled off from the shore, for the light of the burning frigate falling on the boats’ sides made us tolerably conspicuous targets. However, we kept the ship as much as possible between us and the rebels, and as they were likewise not particularly good shots, we escaped with a very trifling amount of damage. Indeed, I should, before I had had experience in the matter, have believed it scarcely possible that so much powder and shot could have been expended with so small a result. One man got a flesh-wound in the right arm, and another had his head grazed, while the boats were struck not more than half-a-dozen times in all. Suddenly the firing ceased. There was a perfect silence. Then the flames from the frigate seemed to burn brighter than ever, and it appeared as if the whole blazing mass was lifted bodily up into the air like a huge sky-rocket. Fragments of masts and spars and planks darted above the rest, and then, scattering around, very quickly again came hissing down into the water. A deep groan escaped the bosoms of many of our men. There was no cheering—no sound of exultation. An old friend had been destroyed; they mourned for her, though they themselves had assisted in her destruction. War, and what war produces, is at the best very horrid work. I cannot, even now, think over all the havoc and destruction we, as was our duty, were the means of producing, without feelings of regret and shame.

It was nearly midnight when I got back to my craft. The signal was soon afterwards made to weigh anchor, when we made sail towards the mouth of the harbour. There had been a stiffish breeze all the time we had been engaged in the destruction of the Syren, but it had not come on to blow very hard, and the night was extremely dark. The schooner’s head was off shore, and, overcome with fatigue, I had just thrown myself on a locker, with my clothes on, to snatch a few moments’ sleep, when Tom Rockets roused me up with the information that a strange sail was crossing our bows. I instantly sprang on deck, and, catching sight of the stranger, put up the helm in chase. Away we flew through the hissing, heaving seas after her, shrouded in a mass of foam. I asked Grampus what he thought her.

“A schooner, sir. When I first saw her there was no doubt of it,” was his answer. “An enemy’s coaster.”

Just as he spoke, a gleam of light breaking through the clouds showed us the chase right ahead. She had now very little chance of escaping from us. We were coming up with her hand-over-hand. As we drew near I fired one of our bow-chasers. Still she held on, so I fired another, and this time with some effect, for she at once put down her helm and hauled her foresail to windward. The tender had a jolly-boat belonging to her. I jumped into it with Tom Rockets and another hand, and soon stood in safety on the deck of the prize. She had, I saw, a number of hands on board, and I felt somewhat surprised that they did not bundle me and my two hands into the boat, and tell us to go back whence we had come. She was, however, only a quiet honest trader, so her master affirmed, from Bedford, bound to Connecticut with fish and oil. On counting her people, I found that she mustered sixteen in all—stout, fierce-looking fellows. Some two or three of them said they were landsmen, and one hailed as a Quaker and a non-combatant, but I did not like the looks of any of them. I sent Rockets to the helm, and told him to keep the prize under the lee of the tender. I found that the schooner had a large boat on board. I accordingly ordered the crew to lower her into the water.

“Now, my lads,” said I, “tumble into her yourselves, and make the best of your way to the shore. It is a dark night, and not very pleasant weather, I own, but it is either that or a prison, you know.”

Before I had done speaking the rebels had begun to launch the boat, too glad of the opportunity of getting on shore to consider the danger they must run in reaching it. The Quaker, however, did not appear at all to relish the trip, and protested vehemently against being thus unceremoniously sent adrift. He protested that he was as quiet as a lamb, and, that he would obey my orders as strictly as if he had taken the oath of allegiance to King George. I told him that might be, but that “necessity has no law greater than itself.” Then he assured me that he was a non-combatant; that to fight was against his principles, and that he would not dream of lifting a finger against any man.

“I dare say not, friend,” I answered, “but you wouldn’t mind boring a hole in a ship’s bottom and letting her go down, or setting fire to her, and letting her blow up with all hands on board, provided you could make your escape unhurt, eh?”

I saw that I had by chance hit the right nail on the head, and that he had, some time or other, done the very thing I suggested. He said nothing further. Still he evidently did not like being turned adrift in the boat. I, however, was inexorable. The enemy had so frequently retaken vessels which had been captured from them, that I was, I own, afraid to trust any of the prisoners I had just made. I accordingly bundled the Quaker in with the rest. I must own that I acted a harsh part. It turned out a terrible night. It was blowing very fresh, and there was a heavy sea running, while it was more than usually dark. I scarcely reflected at the time on the dreadful risk to which I was exposing the poor fellows. In vain I afterwards endeavoured to discover what became of them. They might have reached the shore in safety, or been picked up by some friendly vessel; but they might have been run down, or their boat might have been swamped, and they all might have perished miserably. I pray they might have escaped. If not, their deaths were at my door.

As soon as the prisoners had shoved off, I sent the boat back to the tender, and Grampus and two men returned in her.

“Grampus,” said I, “I put you in charge of this craft. I hope that it is not the last of which you will get command.”

He pulled the front lock of his hair when I made him this speech, and looked round with a glance which showed that he did not over highly appreciate the honour.

“I’ll try to get her into harbour, sir, at all events,” he answered, as I stepped into the boat, and not without difficulty returned to the tender, when, with my prize, I again made sail for Rhode Island. An hour afterwards I captured a whale-boat, from Connecticut to Bedford, with four hogs-heads of salt. As I could spare no people to man her, after making the prisoners come on board, I took her in tow. I was in hopes of carrying her into harbour, but it soon came on to blow harder than ever, and before long I had the dissatisfaction to find that I had towed the prize under water, and, to avoid any mishap to ourselves, I had quickly to cut her adrift. When the morning broke, so heavy a gale was blowing that, being unable to reach Rhode Island, I bore away for the Seaconnet Passage, making a signal to my prize to do the same. We reached it not without difficulty. I was well content to drop my anchor not far from his Majesty’s ship Kingfisher, which I found lying there. Grampus came in soon after, and brought up near me. I asked him if he was sure that his ground tackle was good. He answered, “Pretty well,” but he wished that it were better. An officer from the Kingfisher soon after came on board, and advised us to look to our cables, for it was coming on to blow harder than ever. The caution was not needed. I had done all I could to secure the tender, and she seemed well able to ride out the gale. The prize, however, I saw was labouring heavily. I watched her anxiously, both on my own account and that of Grampus and the men with him.

At noon, just as I was leaving the deck, I heard an exclamation from Rockets, which made me pop my head pretty rapidly up the companion-hatch, and, looking to leeward, I saw my prize, amid a mass of foam, driving away at headlong speed towards the enemy’s shore. To help her was impossible. I was more sorry at the thought of losing Grampus than of anything else. Even should he and his companions escape with their lives, they would, at all events, be made prisoners by the enemy, and I might chance never to meet my old follower again. First one cable parted, then another. Grampus made sail as quickly as he could, but he could only show a very small amount of canvas with the gale there was then blowing. I watched the schooner anxiously through my glass. Tom Rockets stood by my side, as eager about her as I was. On she drove. She appeared to be almost among the breakers.

“She’s lost, sir, she’s lost!” exclaimed Tom.

“No, no,” said I, taking another glance. “Grampus is handling her like a good seaman, as he is. She keeps her luff, and is shooting out again into clear water. Hurrah! Well done, Grampus! She stands up to her canvas bravely. She is making for Fogland Ferry. If she carries nothing away she will reach it too.”

Such were the exclamations to which I gave utterance as I watched the progress of the prize. More than once she appeared to be nearing the land, and I thought that I could make out people following her course, ready to take possession of her should she drift on shore. Then, again, she stood off clear of danger, and at length disappeared in the distance. By daylight next morning, the weather having moderated, I once more made sail in quest of my prize, and as I drew near the wharf at Fogland Ferry, to my great satisfaction, I found her safely moored alongside of it. We remained here some days, till at last, the weather becoming finer, on the 27th of November I sailed with my prize for Newport. I was very anxious to carry her there in safety. I had gained her not without danger and difficulty, and she afforded a substantial evidence that I had not been idle during my cruise. Scarcely was I clear of the land when I made out a large whale-boat, which I chased for three hours and ultimately took. She had on board a cargo of beef, pork, cheese, and tallow. However, it came on to blow harder than ever, so, much against my will, I had to heave a cold shot into her, which sent her to the bottom, and once more I was compelled to run for the Seaconnet Passage.

Next day, that is, on the 28th, I once more put to sea, but in a short time it came on to blow harder than ever. Still, in my anxiety to reach my destination, I did not like to put back, and kept hammering away in the hopes of making good my passage. Feeling that I must take ten minutes of sleep, I went below, but scarcely had I thrown myself on a locker when I was hove off it. I sprang on deck, and found that a squall had thrown the vessel on her beam-ends. I sang out an order to cut away topsail halyards, sheets, main and fore ties, peak halyards. It was done, not without difficulty. Still she would not right. I put the helm up. She answered it, and away we floundered, almost water-logged, to our former place of anchorage in the Seaconnet Passage.

On the 29th, getting all things to rights again, I once more sailed; and this time, in spite of the gale, and not without difficulty, I reached Newport with my prize. I got some credit for my proceedings, and I felt that I was amply rewarded by the way the admiral spoke to me.

“I have my eye on you, Mr Hurry, and it is, I feel, my duty to mark out merit for reward,” he observed, with a pleasant smile, one day when he had invited me to dine with him.

I got three or four days’ rest, and, on the 3rd, sailed once more on a cruise.

I had not been out many days when a tremendous gale sprang up which compelled me to lay-to. During this time the little vessel shipped several heavy seas, which I more than once thought would send her to the bottom. At last one heavier than its predecessors came rolling and roaring towards us.

“Hold on, my lads!” I sang out.

There was nothing else to be done. It struck the vessel.

“She is sinking! she is sinking!” cried out several of the people, as the sea washed over us.

She rose again; but our enemy had left us in a pretty state of wreck and confusion. The caboose was gone, and so was everything on deck not thoroughly secured. The water, too, in torrents was rushing down below. Still our masts stood, and not a rope was carried away. I immediately ordered the pumps to be rigged, and had to keep all hands spell and spell at work at them. The gale, which had been blowing from the north-east, now shifted to the north-west as hard as ever. I had no choice but to remain hove-to, and to work away at the pumps to keep the vessel afloat. Our caboose being gone, and as we had no stove below, we were unable to light a fire to cook anything. We were all, therefore, compelled to live on raw meat. The crew didn’t seem to think this anything of a hardship; indeed, seamen, when not hard pressed, will often, to save themselves the trouble of cooking, or because they prefer it, eat it in that state.

I have had many a hard time at sea, but that was as hard as any as long as it lasted. As soon as I could venture to make sail, I shaped a course for Rhode Island, and, getting a better land-fall than I expected, I reached it on the 12th of December. When I went to report myself to Sir Peter, he received me very kindly.

“You have had a pretty rough time of it, Mr Hurry,” he remarked.

“Yes, sir,” I replied, and I told him how the tender had been knocked about, and what a hard time we all had had of it; but I made no complaint, and finished by saying that I was ready to go again to sea in her as soon as she had undergone the necessary repairs.

“No, no, my lad,” he answered. “I like your spirit; but she and you have had enough of it just now. You shall lay her up for the winter, and probably before the spring we may have other work carved out for you.”

I was very glad to hear this, and very speedily got the tender dismantled and laid up. The admiral, of course, knew more than I did as to what was going forward, and I guessed that none of us should have long to remain idle.

On the 20th of December, 1778, the Bristol, Raisonable, Nonsuch, Somerset, and a fleet of transports arrived from the Delaware River; and on the 27th Sir Peter Parker shifted his flag to the Bristol, taking with him the officers of the Chatham and a hundred seamen. Sir Peter Parker was now only waiting the arrival of Lord Howe, to proceed to the West Indies to take the command there. I looked forward to the time with great satisfaction, for I had no doubt that the admiral would give me every opportunity in his power of winning the step I so much coveted.

Two or three days after I joined, Delisle and another old shipmate, O’Brien, made their appearance on board the Bristol, to which I found that they had been appointed. It was a pleasure to us all; for latterly I had been so constantly on detached duty that we had seen but little of each other. We were, I may truly say, like brothers, regarding each other with the most sincere and truest affection. I doubt if any friendship is greater than that of people thus situated. We anticipated all sorts of fun in the West Indies; for those were the palmy days of the islands, when the planters, or rather their managers and the merchants residing there, lived like princes, and treated all visitors with unbounded hospitality. It was in too many instances with them a short life and a merry one. Delisle had been there for a short time, and so had several of our other shipmates, and the accounts they gave were quite sufficient to make us long to go there.

On the 4th of January Lord Howe arrived at Rhode Island, and on the 15th we sailed thence for our destination. One thing only made me regret leaving the American shores; the certainty that I should have no further chance of again meeting Madeline Carlyon till the war was ended, and I might obtain leave to go on shore to visit her no longer as the professed enemy of her countrymen, but, as I trusted, an accepted suitor and a friend of America and the Americans. Though I may not be constantly mentioning her, it must not be supposed that she was ever out of my thoughts. All my hopes and wishes for the future were wrapped up in her; and often and often I had to struggle hard against the wish of quitting the service, and of seeking her out without delay. Of course I very quickly saw the folly, not to say hopelessness, of such a proceeding. I had nothing but my profession to depend on; and if I were to desert that profession, how was I to support a wife and as to joining the ranks of the enemy and fighting against my countrymen, that, even in my maddest moods, never entered my imagination. However, I will not now dwell further on the matter.

The first island we made was Antigua, where we arrived, without meeting with any adventure worthy of note, on the 5th of February. We found there HMS Aurora, with Vice-Admiral Young’s flag on board. We sailed again the next day with two transports under our convoy, and arrived at Port Royal in Jamaica on the 15th. Here Sir Peter Parker superseded Vice-Admiral Gayton as Commander-in-Chief. On the 18th we went alongside the wharf at Kingston, and hove down to repair and clean the ship’s bottom. We had now many opportunities of seeing this, one of the most beautiful and picturesque of the West India islands, as well as of engaging in the gaieties of the place. With regard to the scenery, others have often described it far better than I can pretend to do, while the thought of Madeline kept me from entering into the somewhat extravagant gaieties which were of daily occurrence. The repairs of the ship took us till the 20th of March, when we hauled out into the harbour.

A short time after this, two ships came into port direct from England, the Ostrich and Active. Each of them had left a lieutenant behind them; and Sir Peter appointed two of ours to fill up the vacancies, and in their steads my friends Delisle and O’Brien obtained their commissions. I was beginning to feel somewhat jealous of them, when the Chameleon came in. Several of her officers had been disabled, having been blown up in a prize she had taken, and were now gone to the hospital. Among them was Lieutenant David Mackey, in whose room the admiral gave me an acting order.

I was sorry to part with my old shipmates, still it was with great satisfaction that I found myself raised to the rank I had longed to obtain, as I had no doubt that I should soon be confirmed in it. My duty in the ship was, however, both disagreeable and severe. In those days, when the schoolmaster had made but little progress, in the Navy especially, and not much on shore, it was difficult to obtain good and steady warrant officers, and I was especially troubled with a drunken boatswain, gunner, and carpenter. Drunk or sober, they were constantly insubordinate, setting a bad example to the crew, and quarrelling with each other. I determined, however, to master them, and compel them to do their duty, or get them dismissed from the service. As I was the only officer in the ship directly over them, my task was not an easy one.

Having run the ship over to water at Rockfort, I found, on my return to Port Royal, that the admiral shifted his flag from the Bristol to the Chameleon. He had just been promoted from Rear of the Blue to Rear of the Red.

My troubles and annoyances with my subordinates continued to increase. Scarcely a day passed but what they were guilty of some neglect of duty, which more than once placed the ship in a dangerous position. I was continually afraid that the gunner, by some carelessness in the magazine, would blow her and all on board up into the air. I have no doubt that most of the catastrophes of that nature, which have from time to time occurred, have been caused by the conduct of which he was guilty. Fortunately for me, I was thoroughly supported in my duty by Captain Douglas of the Chameleon, who was in every respect the officer and the gentleman, and I am much indebted to him for many kind and favourable remarks he made respecting me to the admiral. When a man is endeavouring to do his duty, it is pleasant to be spoken of as an active, zealous, intelligent officer, as I know he did of me. The misconduct of the gunner grew more and more unbearable, and at length I was compelled to bring him, as also the boatswain and carpenter, to a court-martial. The result was that the former was broke, and rendered incapable of again serving his Majesty; while the other two, who did not deserve a less punishment, were severely reprimanded. They would have been broke likewise but for the difficulty which then existed of finding intelligent and educated men to fill the posts they occupied.

The Camel, Captain Bligh, having come into harbour with one of her lieutenants sick, I was appointed to her as acting-lieutenant, her captain having done me the favour of applying for me to the admiral. We left the harbour on the 10th of June, and anchored next day in Bluefield’s Bay, where we found lying HMS Hind, Southampton, and Stork, with a hundred sail of merchantmen.

On the 25th we proceeded with them to the Gulf of Florida. The weather was intensely hot, the sun struck down with unmitigated fury on our heads, and in a few days seven cases of fever appeared on board. Scarcely was a man taken ill than he became delirious, and in a few hours he was dead. Thus in six days we lost twenty seamen and seven marines, together with Lieutenant Thomas Philipsmith of the marines, and Mr John Eaglestone, master’s mate. It was a sad and weary time we had of it. Captain Bligh kept up his spirits in a wonderful way. I messed with him all the time I was on board, and he always spoke frankly and openly to me; indeed, I should be most ungrateful did I not acknowledge the kindness with which he treated me on all occasions.

“I hope we may do better when we get clear of the land,” he remarked. “This climate tries the poor fellows sadly.”

It did indeed. On the 28th the master, purser and surgeon were taken ill, and a few days afterwards I was myself struck down, as were the gunner, surgeon’s mate, and fully sixty more men. Thus, we had not enough men to work the ship; and for some time Captain Bligh and one of the only officers capable of doing duty had to take charge of the ship watch and watch. The weather also was constantly squally, with thunder, lightning, and heavy rain, and this kept us in the gulf till the 20th of July.

On the 28th, in latitude 32 degrees 30 minutes North and 74 degrees 19 minutes West, we parted company with the fleet, which was bound for England, while we made sail back to Jamaica.

I pass over this period of my adventurous existence more rapidly than I have described the former part of my sea-life, because it is full of painful recollections. I had often and often seen men struck down in battle, without allowing my feelings in any way to be agitated; but it went to my heart to see my brave shipmates carried off one after the other with fever, without being in any way able to relieve their sufferings, or to devise means to save them from death. That fever, “yellow jack” as we used to call it, is truly one of the most dreadful scourges of the West Indies. There is no avoiding him. All ranks are equally sufferers, for he picks off rich and poor alike, the strong and weak, the brave man and the coward. Still, I believe that the best way to prevent his attacks from proving fatal is to live moderately but well—not to be afraid, and to avoid exposure to rain and fogs. It is wiser to soak the clothes in salt water than to allow them to be wet with fresh and to dry on the back. However, it is very certain that, if a man does not play tricks with his constitution when he is young, as do so many young fellows in every variety of way when he is exposed to similar baneful influences, he will better be able to withstand them.

On the 17th of August we made the Island of Hispaniola. Two days after that, as I was walking the deck as officer of the watch, the look-out at the mast-head hailed to say that a sail was in sight. We were then off Cape François.

“Where away?” I asked.

“Right ahead to the westward!” was the answer.

“What does she look like?” inquired the captain, just then coming on deck.

“An English frigate, sir!” replied the look-out.

She might be, or she might be an enemy’s cruiser, for I was aware that they had already some large ships fitted out. We were, as far as I knew to the contrary, still at peace with France and Spain. Weak as I was from the fever, (though I had got over it far more rapidly than I could have expected), I was so anxious to ascertain, as soon as possible, the character of the ship in sight, that I went aloft myself to watch her with my glass. As we drew near each other, Captain Bligh ordered the drum to beat to quarters, and the ship to be got ready for action. The nearer we got, the more convinced was I that the look-out was right, and that the stranger was an English frigate. In a short time she hoisted English colours, and soon afterwards made the private signal, by which we knew that she was his Majesty’s frigate Minerva. On getting within hail we hove-to and exchanged civilities, which, as they cost nothing, are very current coin. We found that she had been out on a cruise for some time, but, like us, had not made any captures. Her captain was deploring his ill-luck.

“Better than being taken oneself,” remarked Captain Bligh.

“No fear of that,” was the answer; “I shall take very good care that no one—Frenchman, Spaniard or rebel—captures me. As for the two first, I don’t suppose they will ever go to war again with us.”

“Don’t be too sure of that,” said Captain Bligh. “A pleasant cruise to you, however, and a more fortunate one than we have had. We are bound back to Jamaica. I hope we shall make a quick passage there.”

Such, as far as I can recollect them, were the parting words of the two captains. Scarcely had we lost sight of the Minerva than we fell in with a fleet of merchantmen from Saint Domingo. We agreed that, if there was but a war, what rich prizes they would prove, and we should, without difficulty, have been able to take the greater number of them. They sailed on their way, and we continued on our course for Jamaica. We reached Port Royal without any further adventure on the 28th of August. Scarcely had we dropped anchor than a boat from his Majesty’s ship Niger boarded us.

“Grand news—glorious news!” cried a midshipman who came in her. We all asked him what he meant. “Why, there’s war with France, and a rattling war it will be, too, from all accounts. All the ships here are getting ready for sea, and we shall pick up no end of prizes.”

Captain Bligh stamped with his foot and turned round when he heard this. And well he might, when he recollected the rich prizes we had let slip through our fingers. A vessel came in directly after us, which brought the unwelcome intelligence that the Minerva had been taken by the French frigate Concord only nine hours after we had spoken her. Had we, therefore, only come up a little later, the tables might have been reversed, and we might have brought in the Concord as our prize. The Minerva was, as may be supposed, taken by surprise, her captain not believing that a war had broken out with France, or I am very sure that she would not have so easily become the prize of the enemy.

The circumstances I have mentioned were of course vexatious, but such is the fortune of war, and I believe the knowledge that we had now a foreign nation to contend with, instead of those whom we could not but look upon as countrymen, afforded unmitigated satisfaction throughout every ship in the British Navy.

Chapter Fourteen.

In command of Dolphin.—Sent to warn ships.—Chased.—Captured by Chermente.—Carried to Saint Domingo.—Find old friends in misfortune.—On our parole.—Tom remains with me.

Pretty well worn out with fatigue, which the duties of the ship entailed, as soon as we had made all snug I turned into my berth, hoping to get some sleep. Scarcely, however, had I closed my eyes and forgotten for the moment all sublunary matters, than I felt some one tugging at my shoulder, and on looking up I saw a midshipman standing at my bedside.

“Sir,” said he, “the admiral wishes to see you up at the Penn immediately.”

“I wish he didn’t, though,” I thought to myself. “Couldn’t he let a poor careworn wretch have a few hours’ quiet sleep after knocking about for so many weeks at sea, and having been in the clutches of Yellow Jack?” I didn’t say this, though.

“Very well,” I answered, jumping up and putting on my coat with a yawn which nearly gave me the lock-jaw. “I’ll be up there forthwith.”

The Penn, it must be understood, is the name given to the residence usually occupied by the head commander-in-chief on the station. It is beautifully situated on an elevated spot above the city of Kingston, overlooking the noble harbour of Port Royal.

Ordering a boat to be manned, I pulled on shore, and climbed up to the Penn.

“I’m glad to see you back, Hurry,” said Sir Peter kindly. “I know your zeal for the service, and I have more work for you. You know of the war with France. I must send you off at once to sea in quest of the cruising ships to give them notice of the event, and to direct them forthwith to return into port. In the first place you will look out for the ‘Druid’ at the east end of the island, and give her notice of the war, and then you will proceed to the Saint Domingo coast, where you will find, probably, the greater number of merchantmen. How soon can you be ready?”

Of course I replied, “At once,” wondering what craft I was to go in.

“Very well,” said Sir Peter; “I expected as much of you. You will take command of the ‘Dolphin’ schooner. She is now in the harbour. I am not quite certain in what condition you will find her. However, there is no other disposable craft. Fit her for sea as fast as possible. Take three or four hands with you; I cannot spare you more. Let your two followers you spoke to me about, be of the number. Here is an order by which you can obtain all the aid you require from the dockyard people and others. Good-bye; I hope to see you back shortly.”

With these words I parted from the admiral. It was now three o’clock in the morning. Hurrying on board the flag-ship, I got hold of Grampus and Rockets with their bags, and accompanied by them and a couple of more hands and a boy, I called for my own traps and bedding on board the Camel, and then went alongside the Dolphin tender. She looked certainly in a very hopeless condition. She had her lower-masts standing, but was entirely unrigged, without stores or sails, or even ballast on board, while her bottom was covered with grass a foot at least in length. Still I knew that not a moment was to be lost; the service I was required to perform was of the greatest importance, and I was not to be deterred by difficulties. I unmoored her immediately, got her alongside the dockyard wharf, and began taking some ballast which I found there on board before anyone was up. Then I sent Grampus to rouse up the authorities, whose aid I required. Fortunately the sudden outbreak of war kept people on the alert, so that I had less difficulty in getting assistance than would have otherwise been the case.

Soon after daybreak the deck of the Dolphin presented a scene of ant-like industry. Gangs of negroes were hurrying backwards and forwards with coils of rope and spars and sails; others were rolling down kegs of water, and others casks of beef and pork and biscuit, and packages of other comestibles, while the riggers were at work getting the rigging over the mast-heads, setting it up, bending on sails, and my own people were below, stowing away the various articles as they came on board. I made a list of essentials, and took good care to see that they came on board and were stowed where they were to be found, or very likely I should have gone to sea without them. I saw to everything myself, or sent Grampus to ascertain that people were losing no time in executing my orders. I left nothing to chance. I met with no little grumbling from some of the slow-going officials.

“What a hurry you are in, sir!” said one or two of them, who dared not, however, openly disobey my authority.

“Yes, my friend,” I answered, laughing, “that’s natural to me; and just now I am in as great a hurry as I ever was in my life; so be smart, if you please, and keep your people moving.”

That is the way I managed. I did not swear or abuse them, but if I found anyone slow I pulled out the admiral’s order and said that the work must be done faster.

“Impossible, sir!” answered another official to one of my demands; “it cannot be done. In two or three days we may get the matter settled for you.”

“Impossible! In two or three days do you say?” I exclaimed, looking fixedly at him. “In two or three hours you mean. Impossible,—I don’t understand that word, nor does Sir Peter, depend on that. If the things are not on board in three hours I shall report you. I don’t want to be severe, my friend, but I am in earnest.”

The gentleman understood me, and within the time specified the stores were on board.

In spite of all I could do, however, I could only get a mainsail, foresail, fore-staysail, and jib. I had no topsails and no square sail. Thus, should I be chased by an enemy, I should be, I felt, like a bird with clipped wings, I should have very little chance of escaping. I got some of the weeds scraped off the vessel’s bottom, but still there were more than enough remaining. Such good speed did I make, that before three o’clock in the afternoon of that very day I was ready for sea, or, rather, I was in such a condition that I could put to sea, though the urgent necessity of the case alone warranted me in so doing.

“Well, sir,” observed Grampus, with the familiarity of an old shipmate, “if we comes to meet with Harry Cane in our cruise, it’s like enough that we shall be nowhere.”

Just before we got under weigh, Captain Lambert, of his Majesty’s ship Niger, came on board. He shrugged his shoulders when he saw the condition I was in.

“The admiral ordered me to get to sea as fast as I could,” I remarked; “I’m doing my best to obey him.”

“That you are, Mr Hurry,” he answered. “You’ve done very well—very well indeed, I say. I wish you to keep a look-out for me off Saint Domingo, and bring me any information you may have picked up. I am under orders to sail to-morrow morning to cruise off that island with my own ship, and with the ‘Bristol’ and ‘Lowestoffe,’ and I shall have my tender with me. You will know the squadron by one of the three ships having a poop, and from our being accompanied by a schooner. Now good luck to you. I will not detain you.”

“Thank you, sir,” said I; “depend on it I will not disappoint you.”

With a light breeze we stood out of the magnificent harbour of Port Royal, leaving a fleet of merchantmen, which the news of the war with France prevented from putting to sea. I certainly was not given to be much influenced by outward circumstances, but I did not feel at all in my usual spirits, and could not help fancying that some calamity was going to occur to me. These sensations and ideas probably arose both from my being overworked and from the unsatisfactory way in which my vessel was fitted out; added to this, I knew that the seas would be swarming with the enemy’s privateers, both Americans and French, and that I could neither fight nor run away. I considered over the latter circumstance, and bethought me that, if I fell in with any enemy, I would, at all events, endeavour to escape by stratagem. My men would, I knew, support me. Nol Grampus and Rockets I was sure I could trust, and the others I had chosen because they were sharp clever fellows, and up to anything.

It was not till the 3rd of September that I weathered the east end of the island of Jamaica. I cruised off Morant Point for some time, keeping a very bright look-out for the Druid. She was nowhere to be seen. Sir Peter had directed me not to lose much time in looking for her. She might have chased an enemy for leagues away and not be back to her cruising ground for days. Perhaps she might have taken some prizes and returned to Port Royal. As I began to lose all hope of seeing her before nightfall, the wind came fair for me to proceed through the windward passage. I accordingly put up my helm, made all the sail I could, and stood for the island of Heneago.

On the evening of the 6th I made Cape Tiberoon, on the west end of the island of Saint Domingo, without having fallen in with any vessels, and about eight o’clock the same evening I passed the Navasa, and carried a fine breeze till the following morning, when I brought Donna Maria to bear east at the distance of two or three leagues. I had not liked the look of the weather for some hours.

“What do you think of it?” said I to Grampus, as I saw the clouds gathering thickly around us from all directions, while the sea assumed a peculiarly dark, leaden, ominous colour.

“Why, sir, Mr Hurry, do you see, to my mind, the wider berth we give the land the better,” he replied, giving his usual hitch to his trowsers. “There’s what they calls in these parts a whirlwind or old Harry Cane coming on, or my name is not Nol Grampus.”

I was too much afraid that Nol was right, and accordingly stood off the land under all sail, keeping a look-out, however, on the signs of the weather, so as to take in our canvas in time before the gale came on. I had not, notwithstanding this, made good much more than a league when it fell a dead calm. The sails flapped idly against the masts, and the little vessel rolled from side to side, moved by the long, slow, heaving undulations which rolled in from the offing.

“I’m not quite certain that you are right, Grampus, as to the coming whirlwind, but we will shorten sail, at all events,” I observed.

“Beg pardon, Mr Hurry, sir; but just do you follow an old seaman’s advice, and take all the canvas off her,” he answered with earnestness. “It’s doing her no good just now, and we haven’t another suit of sails if we lose them. When the wind does come, it is on one before a man has time to turn round and save the teeth being whisked out of his mouth. Come, my lads, be smart, and hand the canvas,” he added, calling to Rockets and the other men.

I was soon very glad that I was not above taking an old seaman’s advice. Scarcely ten minutes had passed, during which time the calm had been more profound than ever, when, as suddenly as Grampus had foretold, the whole ocean around us seemed covered with a sheet of seething foam, and the whirlwind, in all the majesty of its strength, struck the vessel, pressing her down till her bulwarks touched the water, and I thought she would have gone over altogether. I sprang to the helm and put it up, while Grampus hoisted the fore-staysail just a foot or so above the deck. Even then the canvas was nearly blown out of the bolt-ropes; so far she felt its power, however, and, her head spinning round as if she had been a straw, away we drove before the hurricane. Where were we driving to was the question. I anxiously consulted the chart. We were in that deep bay in the island of Saint Domingo, with Cape Donna Maria to the southward, and Cape Saint Nicholas to the north, and I saw that a slight variation in the course of the gale might hurl us on the coast, where the chance of our escaping with our lives would be small indeed. Happily the wind at present came out of the bay, or I believe my ill-found little schooner would have gone to the bottom, as did many a noble ship about that time. The sea, even as it was, soon became lashed into furious billows, which broke around us in masses of foam, which went flying away over the troubled surface of the ocean, covering us as would a heavy fall of snow. Grampus and I stood at the helm, keeping the little vessel as well as we could directly before the gale, but we tumbled about terrifically, and more than once I caught him casting anxious glances over his shoulder astern, as if he expected some of the seas, which came roaring up after us, to break over our decks.

“What do you think of it, Grampus?” said I.

“Why, Mr Hurry, sir, I don’t like the look of things,” he answered. “If one of them seas was to fall aboard of us, it would wash every soul of us off the deck, and maybe send the craft in a moment to the bottom. Still, I don’t see as how there is anything we can do more than we are doing. If the schooner was to spring a leak just now, and that’s not unlikely, we should be still worse off, so we may be content with things as they are.”

I admired Nol’s philosophy, though I kept an anxious look-out on the larboard bow, dreading every instant to catch a sight of the shore, past which I knew we should have a narrow shave, even should we be fortunate enough to escape being driven against it. The coolest man on board was Tom Rockets. He kept walking the deck with his hands in his pockets, ready enough, I saw, for action, but certainly not as if a fierce hurricane was raging around him. Now and then he had to pull out his hands to lay hold of the bulwarks as the craft gave a lively roll, or plunged down into the trough of a sea; but as soon as she grew comparatively steady, he began walking away as before.

On we drove. The dreaded coast did not appear. Still I could scarcely hope that we had passed it. The wind began to shift about at last. Grampus said that it was the termination of the hurricane. Still it might play us a scurvy trick before it was over, and drive us on some inhospitable shore. I began now to look for further signs of the ending of the storm. It got round to the northward, and on we drove till we caught sight of the coast. It was a most unwelcome sight, though, for should the little craft once get within the power of the breakers, which were dashing furiously against it, I could not hope that a single man on board would escape with his life. Even Tom Rockets began to think that the state of things was not so pleasant as it might be. I saw that he had taken his hands out of his pockets, and was holding on with the rest of the people. Away we drove—the threatening shore every minute growing more and more distinct.

“What prospect is there, think you, Grampus, of the hurricane coming to an end?” said I. For from want of anything else to be done I was obliged to keep my tongue going.

“I thought as how it was going to break but just now, Mr Hurry,” he answered, casting his eye all round the horizon. “It seems, howsomedever, to have breezed up again, and if it don’t shift before long, there’s little chance of the schooner’s living, or any of us either for that matter, many hours more.”

“We must meet our fate, then, like men, and Christians too, I hope,” I answered, looking at him. “We have done all that men can do, I believe.”

“Yes, sir, that we have,” he replied. “We can do no more, and it isn’t the first time Nol Grampus has had to look Death in the face, so I hopes that I shall not shrink from him. Come he will, I know, some day, sooner or later; and it matters little, as far as I can see, if he comes to-day or to-morrow.”

“Not if we put our trust in One who is able and willing to save our souls alive,” I observed. “That makes all the difference whether death should be feared or welcomed. It is not what we suffer in this world that we should dread, but what we may deserve to suffer in the next; in the same way it is not what we enjoy here, but what we may be able to enjoy through all eternity, that we should long for.”

“Very true, sir—very true, Mr Hurry,” replied Grampus; “but the worst is, that we don’t think of these things till just at such moments as the present, when the flood has done, and the tide of life is fast ebbing away.”

Thus we talked on for some time. I felt really with my old friend Nol, that though there we all stood in health and strength, we might soon be removed to behold the glories of the eternal world.

Suddenly Nol looked up. Holding his hand to the wind, and casting his eye on the compass—

“I thought so, sir,” he exclaimed. “There’s a shift of wind. It has backed round again into the eastward.”

Such was providentially the case. I took the bearings of the land. We might now hope to drive on clear of it. The sea was, however, getting higher and higher, but the Dolphin proved to be as tight as a cork and as buoyant, and I began to get rid of all my dread of her foundering, provided her masts and rigging did not give way.

Considering the manner in which she was fitted out, however, I did not feel quite easy on that score. Still nothing more could be done, so we had, as best we could, to wait events. At length there was a lull. I expected that it would breeze up again.

“The gale has worn itself out, to my mind, Mr Hurry,” observed Grampus, after a careful survey of the sky and sea.

“I am sure I hope so,” I answered; “I was getting somewhat tired of it, and so I suspect was the schooner. Sound the well, and see what water she has made.”

He sounded the well, and reported three feet.

“I thought so. Rig the pumps, and let us try and get her clear while we can.”

All hands pumped away with a will, and soon got her free of water, when the sea went, as it soon did, gradually down. It showed me that the leak had been caused by the way the little vessel had strained herself, and that probably, had she been exposed much longer to the fury of the hurricane, she would have foundered. By night the gale had sufficiently abated to enable me to set a reefed foresail, and once more to haul up on my course. I made but little progress during the night and following day. I was standing along the coast, towards the evening of the next day, with the wind from the northward, when I discovered in-shore of me what I took to be the masts of a vessel just appearing out of the water. I conjectured that she had been sunk in the hurricane of the previous day, and on the possibility that some of the crew might still be clinging to her rigging, although I was on a lee-shore, I resolved to bear down on her. I pointed her out to Grampus, and asked his opinion.

“No doubt about it, sir,” he answered. “There may be some danger to us, I’ll allow, especially if it was to breeze up again, but where’s the man worthy of the name who refuses to run some danger for the sake of helping his fellow-men in distress? To my mind, sir, let us do what’s right, and never mind the consequences.”

I’ve often since thought of the excellence of some of old Grampus’ remarks.

“Up with the helm, then! Ease away the main and head sheets!” I sang out. “We’ll run down and have a look at the wreck.”

I kept my glass anxiously turned towards the object I had discovered, in the hopes of seeing some people clinging on to the rigging. As we drew near, I found that only a single mast appeared above water, as well as her bowsprit, and that she had all her canvas set. Not a human being could be seen in any part of the rigging. I got close up to her. She was a sloop of about seventy tons. She had evidently been caught totally unprepared by the hurricane, and every soul on board had been hurried into eternity. Finding that there would be no use in waiting longer near the spot, for there was not the slightest probability that anyone was floating on any part of the wreck in the neighbourhood, I again hauled my wind, and stood to the northward. At ten o’clock at night a fresh gale sprang up, which compelled me once more to bring-to under a reefed foresail. I am thus particular in narrating details of events which led to a most disastrous result. Truly we cannot tell what a day may bring forth. I had fallen in with no merchantmen, which would have been a most suspicious circumstance, had I not supposed that they might have been lost in the hurricane, or run into port for shelter, otherwise I should have supposed that they had fallen into the power of the cruisers of the enemy. On the 8th I passed Cape Nichola Mole, and on the 9th made the island of Heneago, bearing nor’-nor’-east, four leagues. At eight o’clock in the evening I tacked, and stood off-shore, with a fine breeze, with the intention of passing in the morning between Heneago and the little Corcases, for the purpose of speaking his Majesty’s frigate Aeolus, stationed in that passage, and bearing her the information that the war had broken out. At five o’clock of the morning of the 10th, the wind shifting round to the eastward, I tacked, and stood to the northward, through the Corcases. At daybreak Tom Rockets was sent aloft to keep a look-out for any sail which might be in sight. Soon afterwards he hailed the deck to say that he made out two sail on the lee bow, just appearing above the horizon. I went aloft with my glass and soon discovered four altogether, one much smaller than the others. She was a schooner, the other three were ships. I had little doubt that it was a squadron, composed of the Bristol, Lowestoffe, and Niger, with her tender, which were to sail the day after me, and which I expected to fall in with in this neighbourhood. They were still too far-off to make out exactly what they were. I came down, however, with my mind perfectly at ease, and went to breakfast. Grampus, who had charge of the deck while I was below, watched them narrowly, and did not differ with me as to their character. I therefore stood towards them, as I was anxious to communicate with them without delay. My orders directed me to speak all cruisers, and besides, as it may be supposed, I was eager to get the duty I had been sent on accomplished, and to return again to Port Royal.

When I came on deck again, I found that we had drawn considerably nearer the strangers. I scrutinised them again and again. One of them had a high poop, and I remembered Captain Lambert’s remark to me the day I sailed, that this was one of the marks by which I should know his squadron. I thus stood on boldly towards them. As we drew nearer, I saw Grampus eyeing them narrowly. The expression of his countenance showed me that he had considerable doubt on his mind as to their true character. We had now got within three miles of them.

“What do you think of them, Grampus?” said I, as I took the glass which I had just before handed to him.

“I don’t like their looks, sir,” he answered. “That headmost frigate is English—so I take it from the look of her hull and the cut of her canvas—but the others I can’t make out by no manner of means. I don’t think the ‘Bristol’ or the ‘Lowestoffe’ are among them.”

I had come to the same conclusion that Grampus had; but I wished to confirm my own opinion by his. We stood on for five minutes longer. My suspicions of the character of the strangers increased.

“We are running into the lion’s jaws, I suspect!” I exclaimed; whereat Grampus and Rockets opened their eyes to know what I meant. “Hoist our colours, and let us learn what they are without further delay.”

Scarcely had we run our ensign up to the peak than up went the French flag at that of the headmost frigate which at the same time fired a warning gun at us.

“Up with the helm! Ease off the main-sheets! Keep her away!” I exclaimed.

The orders were quickly obeyed, and away we flew with a strong breeze directly before the wind. I had two very good reasons for endeavouring to escape by keeping before the wind. In the first place, a fore-and-aft vessel has generally a great advantage over a square-rigged ship on that point of sailing, and I might otherwise have drawn the enemy’s squadron towards the station of the Aeolus. As she was so much inferior in strength to it, she would easily have fallen into their power, especially as, not being aware that war had broken out, she would have been taken by surprise.

As soon as I put up my helm and kept away, the headmost of the strangers crowded all sail in chase, making signals to the rest of the squadron to follow her—undoubtedly not to allow me any prospect of escaping. She fired two or three shot, but she was still too far-off to hit me. All the other vessels hoisted French colours, and any lingering hope I might have retained, that after all I might have been mistaken, and that the strangers were English, now vanished. Still my principle has always been never to give in while life remains, and so I resolved to hold on till I got completely under the enemy’s guns, and then, when I found that there was a strong probability of my being sunk, to haul down my colours, but not till then. I had heard of a small vessel escaping even from under the very guns of a big enemy, and I intended not to throw such a chance away. I called my crew aft.

“My men,” said I, “I won’t ask you to stick to me to the last, because I know you will. Those ships astern are enemies: we’ll do our best to escape from them, and if we are taken and the chance is given us, we’ll endeavour to heave our captors into the water, and to re-take the schooner, won’t we?”

“Yes, sir, that we will,” answered Grampus. “I speak for the rest, because I know their minds, and you are just the man to do the thing if it is to be done.”

I told the people that I was gratified at the good opinion they had formed of me, and sent them back to their stations. I did not like the look of things. The chances of escaping were very small, and the prospects of a French prison in the climate of the West Indies was anything but pleasant.

The breeze freshened, and we went tearing away through the smooth blue sea, sending up the white sparkling foam on either side of our bows, and leaving a long line of white astern; but I now sadly felt the want of a square-sail and topsails. Had I possessed them to set, I fancied that I could easily have kept ahead of my pursuers. My glass was seldom off them, while I also kept it sweeping round ahead in the hopes, though they were not very sanguine, of discovering the British squadron, for which I had at first mistaken the enemy. On we flew, but the sharp line of the horizon on every side was unbroken by the slightest dot or line which might indicate an approaching sail. I watched the enemy. It was soon too evident that they were coming up with us at a speed which sadly lessened our prospects of escape. Still we kept beyond the range of their guns. Unless, however, fortune changed in our favour, this could not long be the case. Gradually I saw the chance of getting away diminishing, and the conviction forced itself on me that we should all be soon prisoners of war. I called Grampus to me; he was of the same opinion.

“Well, then,” said I with a sigh, “our first duty is to destroy all the letters and despatches with which I have been entrusted. Bring them up at once.”

Grampus dived below, and returned with the despatches delivered to me by Sir Peter Parker, as well as with some thirty or forty letters from the merchants of Jamaica, addressed to the masters of their privateers cruising off the island, with none of which I had hitherto fallen in. I tied the whole of the documents up in a piece of canvas, with a shot in it ready to heave overboard when the last ray of hope had disappeared. I stamped with rage as I saw my enemies overtaking me; I could not help it. My men, too, eyed them as if they felt that if they had been on board a ship in any way able to cope with such opponents, they would speedily have given a good account of them. I scarcely knew what to wish for. A tornado was the only thing just then likely to serve me. It might have sent the schooner to the bottom, but if she weathered it, I hoped that I had a chance of escaping from the big ships, which were very likely to be widely scattered before it.

The sky, however, gave no indication of any change of the sort. Grampus and Tom I saw pulling very long faces at each other, as much as to say, “It’s all up with us.” They were too right. On came the headmost ship with the Dolphin hand over hand, the flag of France flaunting proudly at her peak. A shot from one of her bow guns was a significant notice to me to heave-to. I did so with a very bad grace, and as I put down my helm, I could not help wishing that France and all Frenchmen were swept away into the ocean.

“They always have been, and always will be, an unmitigated nuisance to old England!” I exclaimed, as I took a turn on the deck, while my little craft lay bobbing away slowly at our big opponent, which, having also hove-to, was lowering a boat to board us. Then I took up the bundle of letters and hove them overboard, when down they sank, probably to find a tomb in the stomach of some hungry shark.

“At all events, Messieurs Crapauds, you will not be much the wiser for what is in them,” I exclaimed with a feeling of no little bitterness.

If I did not feel inclined exactly to cut my own throat, I certainly had a very strong wish to knock the fellows on the head whom I saw pulling towards me. It did not take me many minutes to pack up my own wardrobe. My people, as is usual, put on all the clothes they possessed, one over the other, and then we all stood ready to receive our most unwelcome visitors.

Their boat was soon alongside, and a well-dressed, gentlemanly-looking officer jumped on board, and announced to me in English that I was a prize to the French frigate Chermente of thirty-two guns, Captain McNamara, an Irishman in the French service.

“It is the fortune of war,” he observed. “You did your best to escape us when you found out that we were not your friends. You and your people will come on board my ship; the schooner may be useful to us.”

I could only bow to this polite speech, and say that I was ready to attend him on board his ship. The French seamen, however, did not seem inclined to treat us with much ceremony, and several who came on board rummaged about in every direction to pick up whatever they could find.

With a heavy heart I left the Dolphin, and was soon transferred to the deck of the French frigate. The squadron to which I had become a prize consisted of the Dédaigneuse and Chermente, both of thirty-two guns, the Active of twenty-eight, and the Providence privateer, which with the Active they had taken the day before. I cannot say much for the discipline of the French frigate; for it appeared to me that the crew were very much inclined to be insubordinate, in consequence of which the officers had to exercise a considerable amount of severity in keeping them under necessary discipline.

It was a bitter pill I was compelled to swallow. For ten long years I had been serving my country incessantly as midshipman and master’s mate, and now at the very moment when I felt sure that I was about to emerge from the subordinate rank of a petty officer, and to obtain my commission as a lieutenant, no longer to be subject to the midnight calls of quartermasters and the unnumbered snubs which patient midshipmen from their superiors take, I found all my hopes of my promotion dashed to the ground, and myself an unhappy prisoner of war.

I had, however, plenty of companions to share my misfortune; on board the two French frigates were most of the officers and crew of the Active, as well as of the privateer. Scarcely had I stepped on board than who should I see walking the deck in melancholy mood but my old friend and messmate Delisle, and by his side was Paddy O’Driscoll. How changed had soon become the light-hearted, jovial midshipman! The feeling of captivity was weighing heavily on his spirits. Indeed, what is there more galling to an officer than to see the ship to which he lately belonged in the hands of his enemies, and himself compelled to submit to any commands they may choose to issue? They both, as they turned in their walk, started at seeing me; for of course they did not know that I was on board the vessel just captured. They came forward and shook hands warmly.

“I cannot welcome you on board this craft, my dear Hurry,” said Delisle, “though under other circumstances I should have been truly glad to fall in with you.”

“Bad luck to the day when we fell into the power of the Frenchmen!” exclaimed O’Driscoll. “And to think that an Irishman, or the son of an Irishman maybe, should be their captain makes matters worse. I’m ashamed of my countryman, that I am, except that to be sure he has behaved like a gentleman to us since we came on board, and so have all his officers.”

“What more could we expect?” said I. “He did but his duty in capturing us: perhaps before long the tables may be turned, you know. There’s a larger squadron of our ships not far-off, and I don’t give up all hopes that these ships may fall in with them.”

My two friends pricked up their ears at what I told them, though I myself was very far from sanguine about the two squadrons meeting. Should they meet I had no doubt which would prove victorious. We of course did not express our hopes to our captors, but we kept a constant look-out for the British squadron. Not a sail, however, appeared, our hopes of obtaining our freedom grew less and less, and on the 11th of the month sunk to zero when we entered the harbour of Cape François. We found there the French frigate Concorde and the late British frigate Minerva which she had captured. There were also several sail of French Saint Domingo ships. In my hurry and annoyance on quitting the Dolphin I discovered that I had left behind me my chest of clothes. They were not of any great value, though, as I much wanted them, they were so to me. I therefore requested Captain McNamara to send for them. He at once politely complied with my wish, but the midshipman he sent soon returned with the unpleasant information that the chest was in the cabin, but was empty. It appeared that after the Chermente’s boat had left the Dolphin, the people of the Dédaigneuse had boarded her, and plundered her of everything of value. When Captain McNamara heard of this, he instantly sent on board that ship, and endeavoured to recover my property; but all his trouble was in vain. The French seamen were far too knowing to give up anything they had once got possession of, and after a good deal of trouble I was finally compelled to be content with my loss, as I saw that there was no probability of recovering my property.

On the 14th my brother-officers lately belonging to the Active and I were politely informed that we were to be conducted on shore to give our parole that we would not attempt to make our escape. After a short consultation, we all agreed that, although to get away from the lion’s jaws into which we had fallen was not altogether impossible, it was very unlikely that we should succeed, and that by not giving our parole we should be subject to a vast deal of annoyance, it was wiser at once to give it, and to wait patiently till we were exchanged. Constant confinement in a prison in the West Indies, or on board a guard-ship in harbour, it was suggested was very likely to release us; but it would be into another world, to which we had just then no inclination to go if we could help it. We were received on shore by a guard of ill-favoured blacks—“regular blackguards,” as O’Driscoll observed—between whom we were conducted to the residence of his Excellency Governor D’Argu. We were kept waiting for some time in a balcony which ran round the house, subject to the inspection and remarks of a number of black and brown urchins, who made us feel some of the bitters of captivity by jeering and pointing at us, while we had not even the power to drive them away. At length an officer came into the balcony and asked us into a large room, furnished only with mats, a few chairs, and some marble tables, on which stood some red earthenware jars, full of water, and some decanters of claret, looking very cool and pleasant. The great man was seated at a table at one end of the room. He received us, I thought, at first very grumpily. He did not understand English, but I recognised the polite officer who had boarded the Dolphin when I was captured, and who appeared to be there in the capacity of an interpreter. The governor enquired our respective ranks. I fully expected to be classed among the midshipmen, and to receive my pay and treatment accordingly; but I fortunately had in my pocket the appointment given me by Sir Peter Parker as acting-lieutenant of the Camel. I bethought me of exhibiting it, and, much to my satisfaction, it was acknowledged, and I was told that I should be treated in all respects as a lieutenant, especially as I had been in command of a vessel when captured. I was surprised indeed to find a considerable sense of justice in all the proceedings of our captors at this time. Perhaps the bitter feeling they afterwards entertained for the English, when they had sustained numberless defeats, had not then sprung up. My friend, the second captain of the Chermente, having explained to us the alternative to which we should be subject if we refused to pledge our words of honour, told us that we should be at liberty to go on shore whenever we liked, and to walk about within a distance of a mile from the shore. Some of us complained of the narrowness of the circle to which we were confined. The governor looked quietly up, and remarked that we might consider ourselves fortunate that it was no narrower. The observation was interpreted for our benefit, and no further remark was made on the subject. We all went through the ceremony required of us, and then, without loss of time, were once more marched down to the boats and conveyed on board the Chermente, where all the rest of the prisoners were collected. Most of the men were sent away in a cartel. Nol Grampus parted from me with great reluctance, but when Tom Rockets was told he must go, he turned round towards me and exclaimed—

“Mr Hurry, sir, do you want to part with me? I’ve sailed with you since I was a boy, and, come foul weather or fair, if I have my will I’ll follow you still. Just tell these mounseers that you want a servant to tend on you, and that you can’t do without me, and then maybe they’ll let me stay.”

I tried to persuade Tom that it would be better for him to go away, but all I could say would not turn him from his purpose, and so I made his wishes known to the governor. To my surprise, he was allowed to remain in the capacity of my servant, on my pledging my word that he would not attempt to escape. I afterwards found that a considerable number of seamen were detained by the French, to be exchanged afterwards when more Frenchmen were taken prisoners. On the outbreak of the war on this station, at all events, the French had, I believe, the advantage in that respect. Afterwards, however, it was all the other way, and we English had more prisoners than we could well look after.

We spent a week on board the Chermente while, I suppose, our captors were considering what was to be done with us. Now I must say that, though I have no love for the French, or French manners or customs or ideas, still I should be very ungrateful if I did not acknowledge the kindness and attention we all received from Captain McNamara and his officers. O’Driscoll said it all arose from his father being an Irishman. However, as his officers were not Irishmen, I am inclined to believe that a portion of the nation are capable of great courtesy and kindness, and I am not at all disposed to utter a sweeping condemnation against them, like an old master in the service whom I once knew. My worthy messmate was taken prisoner and kept in France some eight or ten years or more. When at last he was released, and an officer was wanted for some special purpose who spoke French well, he was applied to, it being supposed that by that time he would have acquired a perfect knowledge of the language. “What!” he exclaimed, with an indignant expression, “do you suppose that I would so far forget what was due to my nation and my profession as to go and learn the humbugging ugly language of the enemies of my country? No, indeed, I did my best not to learn a word, and I am proud to say that I know as little of French now as when I was first taken prisoner.” Though I may have laughed at my worthy friend’s want of worldly wisdom, I could never help admiring his sturdy, uncompromising patriotism.

Chapter Fifteen.

Ordered to proceed to Ou Trou.—Escape from our black guards.—Kind reception at a country-house.—Our guards re-appear. Meet Delisle.—Again well entertained by a planter.—Adventures on the road.—Reach Ou Trou.—Put up in a stable.—Bad treatment of prisoners of war.

Hitherto we had been treated with kindness and attention by the officers of the French frigate, but a change in our lot was about to occur. On the 20th September we were suddenly ordered to go on shore, and when there we found that we were to prepare for an immediate start to a place called Ou Trou, thirty miles away in the interior. Having been marched up to the governor’s house, we were told to be ready to commence our journey by three o’clock, and were then allowed to go about our business. We accordingly, feeling the necessity of fortifying the inner man, went to the first inn of which the place could boast, called the Dutch Hotel, and ordered the best dinner it could turn out. “Plenty of wine!” was the general cry, at which Mynheer von Tromp grinned furiously. We were just the customers he liked, and promised to fulfil our wishes to the utmost of his power. In the meantime we strolled about the town. There was very little to attract us in it, and our footsteps took us involuntarily to a spot whence we could obtain a good view of the ocean, which we feared that we were destined for so long a time not again to see. Alas! how many of us were destined never again to behold that ocean we loved so well! As Delisle and I sat together and looked out on the bright blue expanse spread before us, and dotted here and there with white sails glancing in the sunbeams, and observed the unfrequented shore and the fishermen’s boats drawn up on the beach, we agreed how easy it would have been, had we not given our parole, to have made our escape, and as to danger, we settled that we would have run it willingly for the sake of escaping from our confinement. We would have put off in one of the canoes and pulled away right out to sea till we were picked up by an English cruiser or merchantman. While we were sitting admiring the scene several negroes passed us, great, big, burly fellows, laughing and singing at the top of their voices. Each couple of them carried a burden resting on two poles. We soon suspected their errand. On reaching the beach, close to the water, they threw down their burdens and began digging away with short spades they carried at their waists. They did not cease laughing and shouting, and had soon dug a shallow hole big enough to contain a dozen people. The burdens which they had borne to the spot were quickly tumbled in. Before the operations were concluded other big, half-naked negroes arrived with more corpses, which were treated in the same unceremonious manner, and then all were speedily covered up, and the black monsters went stamping and dancing, singing all the while, carelessly over the huge grave.

“Who can they be?” I asked of Delisle; “I mean the poor fellows who lie buried down there at our feet.”

My messmate spoke French, so he called one of the negroes as they passed and made the inquiry of him. The black fellow grinned horribly.

“English seamen. Taken prisoners lately. They have the fever among them. Yellow Jack. They are dying like rotten sheep. No matter. They are all heretics, so we bury them here. They are not fit for consecrated ground. Bah!” was the answer, delivered with a broad grin, as if the speaker had uttered a good joke.

Delisle turned away and came back to me.

“Let us return to the inn,” said I. “It must be dinner-time; I cannot enjoy this spot any longer.”

All our party quickly assembled at the hotel, and we soon forgot the unpleasant scene we had witnessed. Mynheer had not forgotten our order to have an abundance of liquor ready, though I cannot say much for the delicacy of the viands he placed before us. I know that the bottles circulated round the table very rapidly, and that the wine was pronounced very good. It possessed, I remember, the quality of being very strong, so that we soon forgot, thanks to its fumes, all the misfortunes which had been oppressing our spirits, and soon hilarity and fun reigned among us. While we held up our sparkling glasses, and the joke and laugh went round, no one would have supposed that we were a party of forlorn prisoners about to be marched off to a solitary abode in the midst of a half-barbarous island. Toasts and sentiments were uttered, and even songs were sung, and, for my own part, I know that I entirely forgot where I was or what I was about to do. While our revels were at their height a black officer made his appearance at the door.

“Messieurs, it is time to begin your journey. Your mules are at the door. You must mount at once and proceed.”

The order was more easily given than obeyed. With regard to the matter of mounting and sticking on, that, in whatever condition a seaman is, he can generally accomplish; but the guiding a horse, mule, or donkey is a very different affair, and beyond often the power of a sober sailor, much more of a drunken one.

“Oh, bad luck to the blackguards! we are not going to have our conviviality cut short by them or any like them!” exclaimed O’Driscoll, filling up his glass with Burgundy as some of the party were about to rise from their chairs.

“Let’s sit down and be merry yet awhile longer—we shall not get such liquor as this at the town where we are to take up our abode.” He little knew what a true word he was speaking when he said that. His example was infectious, and, captain and all, we sat down and filled up our glasses. A toast was proposed, succeeded by a tremendous rapping on the table. Before it had ceased the door was swung open and a nigger officer marched into the room in a furious rage.

“For what you disobey orders?” he exclaimed, in very tolerable nigger-English; “you come out at once and mount, or I get the whip in among you and make you fly!”

“Ho, ho, Quasho, you’ve got an English tongue in your head! where did you pick that up, you rascal—you run-away slave from Jamacy, I guess—eh, eh?” cried O’Driscoll, turning round and looking at the fellow with an expression of supreme contempt.

I fully expected to see the anger of the negro become ungovernable; instead of that, however, he prepared to back out of the room, and as far as a negro can turn pale, he did so, and seemed at once to lose all power of speech.

“You’ve hit the right nail on the head, O’Driscoll,” observed Delisle; “however, there is no use in exciting the anger of the people, we may suffer for it in the end.”

Others were of the latter opinion; and at last we all rose, and paying the landlord’s somewhat extortionate demand with the best grace we could, considering the hole it made in our pocket, went out to inspect our beasts. They were tolerably strong animals, and two or three looked as if they had some go in them, at all events.

“I say, Hurry, just keep an eye on those two beasts,” said O’Driscoll, pointing at two of the best mules. “No one else seems to know one brute from another.”

Such was the case, for all hands, except Delisle, were more than three sheets in the wind. Poor Robson, one of the lieutenants, was one of the worst. Two negroes mounted on mules appeared to serve as our escort or guard. They were armed with long, formidable-looking pistols stuck in their belts, with hangers by their sides. Had we wished to get away, or had we known of any place to which we could fly, we should have used wondrous little ceremony in disposing of them.

“Mount, gen’men, mount!” exclaimed the black officer.

“More easily said than done, old codger,” hiccoughed Robson, essaying to get across the back of a restive mule. “I should like to see your nigger grand excellency with three bottles of Burgundy under your belt attempting to do that same. However, to men of courage nothing is impossible—so here goes. Heave ahead, my hearties!” Making a spring, he threw himself on to the top of the saddle, but with an impetus so great that he toppled over completely and came down on his nose on the opposite side.

One of our black escort, seeing the catastrophe, hurried up to help the fallen officer. Robson seeing him coming, and not comprehending his intentions, tackled him at once as if he had been an enemy, and the moment he came within reach began pommelling him away most vehemently. This naturally excited Sambo’s anger, and forgetting his habitual dread of white men, he paid him back much in the same coin. The spectators meantime shouted with laughter, urging on the combatants. Drunk as he was, Robson soon, I saw, got much the best of it, and was punishing the nigger most severely. The latter did not like this treatment, and was, I suspected, growing vicious. Now one rolled in the dust, now the other, but Sambo was generally the sufferer. Fearing that he might make use of a long knife I saw stuck in his belt, I made signs to Tom Rockets, who not having had the means of procuring Burgundy, was happily sober, to go in and put an end to the combat.

Poor Tom had better not have interfered, for Sambo, mistaking him for his first antagonist, began pommelling away most furiously at his head, while Robson, not comprehending the cause of his interference, attacked him on the other side.

“Who are you, you son of a sea-cook, who ventures to interfere in the quarrels of two gentlemen, I should like to know?” he hiccoughed out; “let me tell you, I don’t allow such proceedings!”

“My eyes, two gentlemen!” exclaimed Tom, fairly nonplussed; “you is an officer, sir, but a rum sort of gentleman is t’other, I should think.”

Tom bore his hammering for some time, when, getting a fair lick at Sambo, he sent him spinning away ten yards off with a blow of his ox-like fist. Sambo looked very much astonished, scarcely comprehending at first whence the blow had come, but it had the effect of teaching him, I suspect, for the future, to respect the arm of a British tar, and of putting an end to the combat, which, I fain must own, did not redound much to the credit of my brother-officer.

“Come, sir,” quoth honest Tom, seizing him by the leg, “just let me hoist you aboard this here animal, you’ll be more comfortable-like than kicking away here on the ground.”

Robson made no objection, but looked up with a smiling aspect in Tom’s face.

“Yeo-ho! heave-ho!” sang out my follower, and the lieutenant was quickly seated on the back of the quadruped, though, I suspect, he sat there with no great amount of comfort, for he held on tightly by the pommel with both hands, as if he expected soon to be tossed off again. Perhaps he had in his recollection the occurrence of some such accident in former times.

After this there was a general cry of “Heave ahead, my hearties, heave ahead!” And we all mounted as best we could. Our two black guards got on their steeds in no very good-humour with affairs in general, and us in particular, though their mules were the greatest sufferers.

How the authorities could suppose that two niggers, albeit armed with the longest hangers, and the biggest pistols ever used, could keep in order a party of half-drunken British officers rendered reckless by vexation, I do not know. It made us fancy that they had very few men to spare for any service but that of actual warfare.

They had our word that we would not run away, but certainly we had given no pledges that we would not indulge ourselves in any frolic which might be suggested to our fertile imaginations.

The word at last was given, and off set our cavalcade from the town of Cape François, the negroes shouting and the mules kicking and snorting and making all sorts of wonderful noises. We did not leave the place with any especial regret, but we should have done so had we known where we were going. Robson, whose head was pretty strong, soon recovered his equilibrium, and he, Delisle, O’Driscoll, and I rode together. I am no great hand at describing scenery. I remember it was wild in the extreme—blue ranges of hills and deep valleys, and plains partly cultivated, but mostly left in a state of nature overgrown with giant ceybas, between which were seen in rich profusion every species of parasitical plant twining and twisting and hanging in drooping wreaths, which monkeys converted into swings, while humming-birds at the pendant ends built their tiny nests. Then there were mango thickets, which as we journeyed among them, with their dense foliage, shut out the view on every side, and tall palm-trees towering up proudly here and there in the plain. There were rice and sugar plantations also, and their houses of one storey and red-tiled roofs and broad verandahs, and gangs of negroes as they trudged, laughing and shouting, to their work at the baking-house or mills for crushing the canes, and in the wide savannahs there were cattle grazing and herds of long-eared, fine mules, which put our sorry steeds to shame.

“I say, this is terribly slow work,” quoth O’Driscoll, ranging up alongside me; “what do you say to giving our nigger friends the go-by? We can’t come to much harm. We’ve got the bearings of Ou Trou, I fancy—indeed, I don’t think that there is any other town in that direction. At all events, we may meet with some adventure, and it will be pleasanter than jogging along at this rate.”

The proposal was one which jumped amazingly with the fancy of all the party. We had not long to wait before we had an opportunity of putting our scheme into execution. We four were ahead of the rest of the party. Suddenly we came upon a spot where four roads branched off in different directions.

“Away we go, my boys,” shouted O’Driscoll, and to the astonishment of our guard we struck our spurs into the sides of our mules, and off we galloped, each by a separate road, or rather track, for road, properly so-called, there was none. We had agreed to reunite after riding on for twenty minutes or so, but we forgot that such a determination might not be so easily accomplished as designed. Our black guard pulled up, shouting lustily, and tugging at and scratching his woolly locks, uncertain in which direction to pursue us. In vain he shouted, and shrieked, and swore. The extraordinary mixture of nigger and French oaths in which he gave vent to his fury had no effect on us. He might as well have tried to stop a fly-away eagle with them. We turned round and shook our hands and laughed at him. After going on for a little time I discovered that he did not pursue me, so when my mule began to show signs of fatigue I pulled up and rode on leisurely. Not long after. I heard a tramping behind me, and expected to find that it was the negro, but on looking back I made out O’Driscoll in chase of me. I having accordingly hove-to, he came up to me, laughing heartily.

“Well, faith, we have clean done the niggers!” he exclaimed. “We may now ride on leisurely and see what fortune has in store for us. I intend to throw care to the dogs and to forget that I am a prisoner of war. What’s the use of moaning and groaning, and sighing and dying? But oh, Molly Malone! Molly Malone, what will ye do when ye hear that your own faithful Patrick may chance to be kept so many long years away from you? Ay, there’s the rub, Hurry. Now you, you happy fellow, don’t care for anybody. It’s all the same to you where you may be, but should Molly, now, think I was never coming back and go and marry some one else, it would be a bitter pill to swallow.”

Paddy went on conjuring up all sorts of melancholy pictures in which Miss Molly Malone played a conspicuous part, till his feelings fairly got the better of him and he began to blubber outright. This was too much. I doubt not the Burgundy helped the tears to flow. My own feelings and thoughts I kept to myself and did my best to comfort him, and in another three minutes he was roaring at the top of his voice with laughter.

“Hillo, what’s that ahead? A stately mansion, as I am a gentleman!” he exclaimed, as a red-tiled building of a single storey appeared before us. “We’ll go and request the hospitality of the noble owner. I have no doubt that he will be enchanted to afford it when he discovers that we are officers and gentlemen.”

We turned aside through a gateway which led to the mansion. It was a large, low edifice surrounded by a broad verandah, a flight of stone steps leading to the principal entrance. As we rode up a thin old gentleman, with a powdered wig, long-tailed coat, silk breeches and diamond buckles, appeared at the top of the steps and summoned a troop of negroes, who rushed forward to assist us to dismount and to hold our mules.

“This is treating us with proper respect,” observed O’Driscoll, assuming an air of as much dignity as he could command, and, mounting the steps, he commenced an address, which the old gentleman, in spite of his politeness, showed that he could not possibly comprehend. I could command a few sentences in French by this time, so I tried to explain that we were travelling towards Ou Trou, and that we were uncertain of our way. He said something about commissionaires. I suspect he took us for Americans. However, he politely invited us into a large airy room covered with mats, and made us sit down on a cool cane-bottomed sofa and had sweetmeats and cakes and delicious cool wine and water brought in, and then he produced a bundle of unexceptionable cigars, and we were speedily made very happy and comfortable. We smoked and laughed and talked away, but I doubt that our host understood anything we said. This was all very pleasant, and we enjoyed it amazingly. At length the ladies of our host’s family arrived. They had been driving round the estate—it was a large sugar one—in a volante, jogging and jolting, I doubt not, for the roads, if so they might be called, were execrable—a fine thing for the bile, as O’Driscoll observed.

The ladies looked as if their drive had agreed with them, for they were full of life and animation and courtesy and kindness. A French creole is really a very handsome creature—I mean those of the softer sex. The men are generally dried-parchment, shrivelled-up-looking little monstrosities. I cannot account for the difference. We made out that there was madame la mère and three daughters, and a brace of cousins. They must have had a couple of volantes or more, for the mother would have amply filled the half of one at least, and two of the daughters would have required a capacious vehicle to convey them, independent of hoops, with which they had not encumbered themselves.

They speedily threw themselves into chairs and sofas, and coffee was brought to them, and then cigars, which they lighted, without ceremony, from small lumps of hot charcoal handed to them by a little black slave-girl.

In a short time some young men came in. They appeared to be brothers and cousins of the young ladies, or perhaps there was a lover or so among them. One went to a spinet which stood at the end of the room, and another brought in a violin and began to strike up a dancing air. Then, to show that we were civilised beings, O’Driscoll and I rose to our feet, and each offering a hand to a young lady, we commenced a minuet to the air which was being played. We flattered ourselves that we performed our parts to admiration, though our knowledge had been picked up during a few evenings spent on shore at New York during our last stay there. To the minuet succeeded a regular country-dance. Here O’Driscoll felt that he could show off in right good style, and accordingly frisked and frolicked and jumped about in the most vehement way imaginable. He soon danced himself into the good graces of all the lady part of the community, who seemed to admire his red hair and ruddy cheeks, which formed so great a contrast to their own complexions. I heard them remarking that he was a joli garçon and a bon garçon, and the more impudent he looked, and the more he frolicked, the more they admired him. I came in for some share of their commendations, I flatter myself, though not perhaps to so large a one as he did, but whether or not from the same cause I will not pretend to say. Evening was drawing on and our contentment and hilarity were at their height—as to being prisoners, we forgot all about that—when who should pop his head in at the door but the ugly black rascal who had acted as our guard, the fellow with the long pistols and hanger. We endeavoured to ignore his acquaintance and laughed heartily in his face, when he said that he had come to carry us off.

“Pooh, pooh!” exclaimed O’Driscoll, going up to him, and, shaking him by the shoulders, turned him about to shove him out of the room; but an harangue he uttered appeared to have a considerable effect on our host. What he said I do not know. Our host’s manner at once changed towards us.

“It appears, gentlemen,” said he, coming up to us, “that you are setting at defiance the authorities of the island. I cannot sanction such a proceeding. I took you for very different people to what I now find that you are. I regret it, but I must give you back into custody.”

Such was the import of the old gentleman’s address as far as we could comprehend it. It made us look very blue and feel very foolish. The worst of it was, that even our fair friends began to turn up their noses at us. Suddenly O’Driscoll slapped his leg with vehemence.

“I’ll bet a thousand dollars that black scoundrel has been telling a parcel of lies about us, which has so suddenly made our friend, Monsieur Shagreen here, so suddenly change his opinion of us. I’ll ask him, and assure him that the blackamoor is not to be trusted.”

On this O’Driscoll held forth to the old gentleman, who, however, as he could not make head nor tail of what was said to him, was not much edified. Had we been able indeed to speak French fluently, I have no doubt that we should have got the better of the nigger. As it was he got the better of us, and finally got us again under his guardianship. The only consolation was that we obtained the sympathy of the ladies, who, when they really understood our painful position, at once exhibited a delicacy and kindness which we had not expected when we were first introduced to them. They quickly disappeared, and came back with a variety of articles which they thought might conduce to our comfort. Blessings on the sex, whether black, brown or white, wherever they are found! The negro fumed and foamed and talked very big, I doubt not, though what he said we could not clearly comprehend. He seemed also disposed to prevent us from receiving the gifts which the ladies offered. This made them, we saw, very indignant; but they quickly managed to get round him, and, either by threats or bribes, induced him to promise that he would treat us with kindness. They stowed all their gifts, which consisted chiefly of eatables, into some grass bags, which were slung across our mules’ backs in front of us. The negro showed by his impatient gestures that he wanted to be off, so, bidding our kind hostesses farewell and expressing our gratitude as best we could, we descended the steps to mount our beasts. Our host’s leave-taking was far more formal than his reception of us. He was evidently a kind-hearted, generous man, but could not shut out of his sight certain visions of offended dignitaries angry at the entertainment he had afforded to the enemies of La Belle France.

We were sorry that we could not more clearly explain to him our sense of his hospitality. He waved his hand as we mounted, but declined to take ours, and showed to the bystanders by every means in his power that he was heartily glad to be rid of us.

“Never mind, we’ll not be offended,” said O’Driscoll, as we rode on. “He is a fine old gentleman, and I dare say, if it were not for his fear of the powers that be, he would have been as polite as ever to us.”

We had gone on some miles when the clattering of an animal’s hoofs attracted our attention, and to our satisfaction we saw Delisle coming along a track to our right. He had lost his way and met with all sorts of adventures; but, as he spoke French well, he easily got out of them. He also had been entertained very kindly by a creole family, who took him for a French officer, but threatened if any heretical Englishman came into their power they would do for him. At that time the Roman Catholic inhabitants of the French colonies were bigoted in the extreme—though surpassed probably by the Spaniards and Portuguese, who even then would have thought they were doing God service to burn a heretic.

It was now growing dark, or rather the sun was on the verge of the horizon, and we knew that in another ten minutes day would have changed into night, so rapid is the transition in those latitudes from light to darkness. We began to wonder what had become of Robson. Half-seas-over as he had been, as we grew more sober and capable of reflection we began to fear that he had met with some accident. Still, as we should not find him by stopping still, and our guard would not let us go out of our road again—at least, the instant we gave signs of such an intention he began tapping away at his hanger or presenting one of his long pistols as a signal to us to keep in our straight course—on we jogged, therefore, as fast as our mules could trot, for we had yet a long distance to accomplish before we could reach Ou Trou, and were anxious to be there. Fortunately, before long the moon rose. Oh! what a magnificent pure orb she looked floating in the clear ether—a pure, chaste globe, one could see its roundness—not like the patch of red putty she generally seems in northern climes stuck on to a black board. The dark outlines of the hills and tall trees stood clearly defined against the bright sky, and in the damper and more sheltered spots fire-flies were darting about and filling the air with their brilliant flashes, while the shrill cries of frogs and night-birds and whirr of beetles resounded on every side. We were riding on, listening to these varied sounds of animated nature, when we saw some dark objects, which appeared like human beings, lying on the grass by the road-side.

“What can they be?” exclaimed Delisle. “Dead men, I fear.”

We rode on—O’Driscoll was ahead. He dismounted.

“Very noisy dead men, for they snore most confoundedly loud,” he cried out. “As I am a gentleman, here’s Robson, and he has chosen the fat stomach of a greasy nigger for his pillow! I hope he enjoys the odoriferous, sudoriferous resting-place. His dreams must be curious, one would think. What is to be done with him, I wonder?”

By this time we had all assembled round our fallen shipmate. We in vain tried to rouse him. A few inarticulate grunts were the only answers he could give to our often-repeated remonstrances. The negro was much in the same condition; but it was evident that he had had sense enough before falling into repose to allow the ruling passion to have sway, and he had contrived to pick our friend’s pocket of his purse and watch, which he held firmly in his grasp. The negro guard, when he came up, wanted to prevent our recovering Robson’s property, and pretended that it belonged to his compatriot and that we had no right to it.

We guessed, as was the case, that Robson had been hospitably entertained at some farm, when, having taken on board a further supply of liquor, he had been completely overcome, and that the negro had been sent to guide him on his way. Probably our shipmate had been treating him in return, and, when pulling out his purse to pay the reckoning, had excited his cupidity. Happily for Robson his guide was too far gone by this time to run off with his booty, and so both had come to the ground together, the robber and the robbed levelled by that arch destroyer of the human intellect—strong drink. Oh, when I now come to think of it, how disgusting was the scene!—though I did not trouble my head much about the matter myself in those days. Robson was a gentleman, and had refined ideas and pleasant, agreeable manners, and yet, when once wine thus got the better of him, he would thus sadly demean himself. After some pulling and hauling we got him up, and having caught his mule, which was quietly grazing near, wiser than his rider, we put the biped on his back. Delisle went ahead and O’Driscoll and I propped him up on either side—the negro we hauled up on a hank and left to recover and make the best of his way home. We had difficult work to keep Robson steady, for the bumping of the mule brought him sufficiently round to make him fancy that he could take care of himself, and he every now and then made an attempt to do something which he was utterly unable to accomplish. Certainly one of the most trying things to the patience is to conduct a drunken man along a straight road. Our guard also was continually urging us to go faster, which we were utterly unable to do. Fortunately, before long we came in sight of a house belonging apparently to a large coffee estate, and standing near the road. Bright lights were gleaming from within, and the sounds of music and revelry came forth through the open windows. It was a sight tempting indeed to poor forlorn creatures like ourselves, who had little chance of seeing such again for many a long day.

“What say you?” cried O’Driscoll. “Perhaps we may kill two birds with one stone. We may get these merry people to take care of Robson and at the same time to entertain us, if Sambo there don’t interfere. We’ll try at all events. Delisle, my boy, come along and interpret for us, will you?”

Delisle, who on most occasions was one of the most quiet and best behaved men in existence, albeit a perfect fire-eater on occasion, entered at once into the fun of the thing and followed his countryman under the balcony, when the latter began to cry out—

“Oh messieurs! oh mesdames! ici, ici! un pauvre garçon se va mourire!”

Several ladies came into the balcony and looked over, curious to ascertain what was the matter. When they saw us bearing Robson in our arms, some of them cried out that a stranger had come with a dead man. Others said that he was only sick; and then some gentlemen came and looked out, all dressed in knee-breeches, long silk waistcoats and coats, and with swords by their sides—a very respectable-looking assemblage. They all talked away and consulted for some time, and the upshot of the matter was that several of them came down, and calling us round to the front door, assisted us to carry Robson up the steps and into a quiet room, away from the scene of revelry. There we put him to bed, one of the gentlemen recommending a tumbler of eau-sucré as the best medicine we could give him. He took a huge draught of it.

“Superb nectar! finest grog I’ve tasted for a long time?” he exclaimed. “Give me more of it.”

We gave him another huge jorum. He sucked it down with great satisfaction, and it undoubtedly cooled the fever which was raging in his inside. Our French friends, we flattered ourselves, did not find out his real condition; and when we had made him comfortable they invited us all to the room in which they were holding their revels. Sambo, our guard, for some reasons best known to himself, made no objections to the proceeding. Perhaps he judged that it was the best way of disposing of us. Perhaps he had some acquaintance—I won’t say of the fair sex—among the sable inmates of the mansion, with whom he had no objection to pass a short time while we were amusing ourselves in the society of the masters and mistresses.

We danced, and ate sweetmeats, and drank coffee and claret-and-water and smoked cigars and cigarettes to our hearts’ content, and laughed and talked to the nut-brown maids who composed the female portion of the party, for there was not a white face among them. We were quite disappointed when our black guard put his head into the room and sang out—

“Allons, messieurs, allons?”

“I should like to allons you and your ugly mug?” exclaimed O’Driscoll, eyeing the negro with no friendly look. But there was no help for it. The black fellow was our master; we had passed our word of honour not to attempt to escape, and to behave ourselves orderly, and we felt that we had already verged on the bounds of propriety in what we had done. Our polite hosts promised to take very good care of Robson and to forward him on with an escort the next day, should he have recovered his strength.

Once more, therefore, we were in the saddle and proceeded through forests and among mountains and by plantations, guided by the light of the moon, till, very sore and very tired, we arrived, past midnight, at a place which our guard informed us was Ou Trou. We said that we wished to lodge at the best inn, on which he chuckled audibly, and told us that we had better take up our abode for the night in a shed hard by among some piles of Indian-corn straw. We agreed that we had often been compelled to sleep on far more uncomfortable couches, and that the next morning we would set out to explore the town and choose lodgings. With this comfortable reflection, after our guard had disappeared into a neighbouring shed with our weary beasts, we, not less weary, I suspect, fell asleep.

We were awakened at an early hour the next morning by the sound of English voices, and, getting up from our straw couches, we found several of the officers lately belonging to the Minerva, who also had been sent to this place, and, hearing of our arrival, had come to look for us. They gave us an account of the way in which their ship had been taken. We were not aware that they had been captured, and together we bemoaned our hard fate in thus being made prisoners at the commencement of a war which probably would be a long one. Having stretched ourselves, we looked out at the door of our shed. The prospect was very rural and very tropical, but, as just then we wanted some of the civilised comforts of life, a few substantial houses would have been more gratifying to our sight. However, at that moment a voice was heard indulging in a half-French, half-negro song, and a jolly fat blackamoor appeared, with a white apron on, a bowl under one arm and a towel over the other.

“Ah, there comes our perruquier. He’s a capital fellow. You’ll want his aid, some of you. Venez ici, Antoine!” sang out one of our friends.

Antoine, nothing loth, turned aside to us, for every new chin added to his wealth; and he very soon had us shaven and shorn as clean as the friar the old nursery song tells about, and all the time he was talking and laughing and singing in the most cheery way imaginable. Our friends then brought us some milk and bread for breakfast, and, hungry as we were, we were right glad to partake of it. This done, we sallied forth to inspect the town, as we had hitherto persisted in calling it. What was our disappointment and disgust to find that it was not superior to a village of very poor pretensions, and that there was scarcely a house fit, in any way, for us to occupy. There were, however, three shops, great rivals, each trying to ascertain what atrociously bad articles they could pass off on their customers, and how high the price they might venture to demand. Thoroughly disappointed, we returned to our shed to rest during the heat of the day. In the afternoon we again sallied out, and succeeded in securing a tumble-down looking house, with three rooms in it and several out-houses adjoining.

This miserable place, then, was to be our abode for weeks and months, perhaps for years! We were all of us but scantily supplied with clothes; we had but few books, and but a scarcity of writing materials, and no fowling-pieces, so that we could not even look forward to the prospect of obtaining some sport to enable us to pass the time, and to assist in furnishing our ill-supplied table. Altogether, our prospect was gloomy and disheartening in the extreme, nor could any of us discover a ray of light in the distance to cheer our spirits. Happily, sailors are not apt to moan and groan except when they are more comfortable than they have ever been before in their lives on shore, surrounded by their families and all the luxuries of civilisation; and then if they want their promotion, or can manage to dig up a grievance, they grumble with a vengeance. However, when real difficulties and dangers and troubles come, no men look up to them better; and so we resolved to be as happy as we could, but I must say that I never in my life had as much difficulty in making the best of it as I had on this disastrous occasion. Bitter, bitter indeed is the lot of a prisoner of war!

Chapter Sixteen.

Our quarters at Ou Trou.—My asthmatic companion.—Illness and death of Captain Williams.—The melancholy burial-ground.—Try to kill time, but it kills most of my companions.—Startling news.—Life in the village.—Our condition becomes worse.—Death of more of my companions.—Orders for our release arrive.

Our mansion at Ou Trou consisted of three rooms, for which the liberal-minded copper-coloured owner insisted on our paying nineteen dollars a month. This was to serve as the habitation of twenty officers ranking as lieutenants. The midshipmen had another house appropriated to them of much the same character. Ours had out-houses connected with it, rather more extensive than the building itself, and as it was impossible for us all to stowaway in the house, especially in such a climate as that of Saint Domingo, we came to the resolution of drawing lots to determine who should occupy the outer buildings. An inspection of a comfortable barn in England will give no idea of these unattractive edifices. To increase their undesirableness as abodes for men, most of them were already occupied by mules or horses or cows or donkeys. When we gave signs of our intention to dispossess them, the owner asserted that we had no power to do so; they were the first tenants, and had the right of occupation in their favour.

“Now, gentlemen, are you all ready?” exclaimed the senior officer present; “we must settle this important matter. Four persons in each room is as many as they can possibly contain, the remainder must abide by the lot which falls to them. Two in the stable where the old horse now lives, two in the cow-shed, two in the tumble-down barn, and two in the large stable, where the mules and donkeys have till lately held their revels.”

This last edifice was in tolerable repair, and, provided its four-legged inhabitants were turned out, we considered would make a very tolerable abode. One after the other of us drew lots. Lieutenant Manby of the Minerva found himself the occupier of the shed with the old horse, and I was beginning to hope that I might obtain a berth in the house, when, lo and behold! I found that I was destined to share my abode with him. He was, as everybody who knew him would agree, a first-rate excellent fellow, so with regard to my human companion I had reason to consider myself fortunate; but the old horse, with the thermometer often at a hundred, was a considerable drawback to any comfort we might hope to find in our abode. Our landlord probably suspected that we should turn him out, so the very first night that we retired to our new abode the fellow made his appearance and told us to remove him at our peril.

“But the horse may eat us!” urged Manby.

“More likely that you will eat the horse,” answered the Frenchman, who was a bit of a naturalist. “He is graminivorous; you are carnivorous. He can’t eat you, but you can him.”

“He may bite, though!” I suggested.

“No, he has no teeth; he is too old for that,” replied the Frenchman, laughing.

“Ah! but his odour; that isn’t pleasant to delicate olfactories,” I observed humbly.

“Oh, that’s nothing when you are accustomed to it,” replied the tyrant, grinning from ear to ear. “You are too particular. Just let him take his side of the building, and do you take the other, and you will be completely at your ease.”

As it was useless arguing with so pertinacious a disputant we were compelled humbly to submit. The horse had one stall—we took possession of the other. To make ourselves as comfortable as circumstances would allow, we collected all the hay and straw and reeds, so as to form a thick layer of dry materials between our bodies and the damp ground—for damp it was, in spite of the heat of the climate. It was too late in the day for us to attempt more, and, weary in mind and body, we climbed up into our nests, and were soon asleep. I was awoke by the wheezing and coughing of the asthmatic old horse, and, looking up, I saw what appeared to me an extraordinary phenomenon. Suddenly the air around us was filled with bright sparkles of light. Now they flashed on one side, now on the other; now the whole space above our heads was illuminated; then all was darkness; then the lights—thousands of them there appeared to be—burst forth once again, more brilliantly than ever. I could not help rousing up Manby, to ask him what he thought about the matter.

“The matter, Hurry!” he answered, yawning; “why, that our stable stands in a particularly damp situation, and that the place is full of fire-flies. You’ll hear frogs croaking before long, and see great big water-snakes crawling about, and reptiles of all sorts. The snakes, they tell me, are harmless; but it is not pleasant to awake and find one encircling one’s neck. However, we shall soon get accustomed to them, so people say, and that’s a comfort. I don’t know whether it is pleasanter to be asleep or awake. Just now, when you roused me up, I was dreaming that I was a horse, and that ugly copper-skinned landlord of ours was trying to put a saddle on my back to take a long ride, but I would not let him, and so he was thrashing me unmercifully. I dare say he would treat his beast much in the same way if left to himself.”

“Do not let us be talking of our dreams. Our waking thoughts are sufficiently unpleasant,” I observed.

After a time we managed to go to sleep again, but for some weeks scarcely a night passed without our being disturbed by unusual noises or by the visits of snakes or reptiles of some sort. Once we were invaded by a whole army of land-crabs, which were passing across the island, and it was some time before we could persuade them to turn aside from our door. Many paid the penalty of their temerity with their lives, and were cooked next morning for breakfast. By-the-bye, in the cooking department we were at first sadly deficient, but from the instruction we received from some of our French masters, we soon became great adepts in the art, and were independent of any help. One reason why we did not succeed at first was the scanty supply of food with which we were furnished. The Frenchmen, however, showed us where we might go out into the woods near the village, and gather vegetables and roots and nuts of all sorts for ourselves. After that we were never in want of the bare necessaries of life. We received an allowance from the French Government for our subsistence. The lieutenants received three shillings a day; the purser, master and surgeons only two; and the midshipmen but one shilling; on which, poor fellows, it was scarcely possible for them to exist. The captains were allowed more, I believe, and had a house found them some little way from Ou Trou, where they were able to live in somewhat less discomfort than we did. They used, however, their best exertions to lessen the inconveniences we were doomed to suffer; but the authorities paid but little attention to their representations. The residence hired by the midshipmen was even smaller and in a more dilapidated condition than ours, and from the smallness of their allowance, considering that their appetites were fully as good as ours, they were truly very badly off, poor fellows. We of the lieutenant’s rank accordingly consulted together, and agreed to have our mess in common for them and for ourselves. The midshipmen gratefully accepted our offer, and each of us threw his pay into a common stock and appointed two caterers to make the necessary arrangements and to contract with one of the copper-coloured French shopkeepers to supply us with breakfast and dinner and to do our washing. These arrangements being made, we flattered ourselves that all would go on swimmingly. Certainly our provisions were better and more abundant than we had expected; but we fancied that we had fallen in with a liberal-minded man, who was anxious to treat us well. We had a dreary time of it, however. Day after day passed away much in the same way. We had no shooting or fishing—no musical instruments—so that we had not even music to relieve the monotony of our existence. We had but few books also; some of us read them; but, generally speaking, under the relaxing influence of the climate, we felt very little inclined for any literary pursuit. A few games were invented which served to kill time, but killing time is not a pleasant or inspiriting occupation, especially when a man reflects that time is sure to kill him in the end. We walked about the neighbourhood of our dreary abode as far as we were allowed to go, but we soon got weary of the negro huts, and the palm-trees and the rice fields and the coffee plantations, and the cocoa-nuts and plantains and bananas, and the monkeys and opossums and racoons, and parrots and humming-birds. I dare say, if we had not been prisoners and compelled, as it were, to see the wonderful productions of animal and vegetable life, we should have been highly interested in them—at least, we ought to have been. One or two of our surgeons, who had a little turn for natural history, contrived to pass their time by collecting specimens, and examining into the nature and habits of the animals which abounded in the country; but naval officers, especially in those days, did not trouble their heads much about such matters, and were somewhat inclined to look down upon those who did. We talked of our prospects—they were gloomy enough; we tried sometimes to sing, but for that we had not much spirits; and so the days passed away. It would have been surprising, even in a healthy climate, if disease had not attacked us under similar circumstances. For some time it stood aloof, but it came at last, and made ample amends for its delay by its violence. We had been about a month at Ou Trou, when one day we were all seated at dinner in a sort of courtyard, which being in shade served us as our mess-room and drawing-room, unless the weather was bad, when we had to retire into our hot, stifling little house. We were all in tolerably fair spirits that day. O’Driscoll had been telling some of his good stories, more than one song had been sung, and jokes were flying about, far more than was usually the case. There were a few absentees in consequence of sickness, and we heard also that Captain Williams, lately commanding the Active, was ill. Poor man! he severely felt the loss of his ship, though, having been compelled to yield to a vastly superior force, no blame was attached to him. His spirits, it was said, had never risen again since he was taken prisoner, and he was thus but ill able to combat with the baneful effects of the climate and the irksomeness of imprisonment. Just then, however, few of our party were thinking about anything but the present moment and the unusually good dinner we had been enjoying, when who should make his appearance near the head of the table but Monsieur Roquion our purveyor, with a smiling countenance and a long bill in his hand.

Our caterers inquired why he had come.

“For to present my litte compte to you, gentilmen,” he answered, for he indulged occasionally in a few words of English, especially when he wanted to say anything very disagreeable.

One of the caterers took the bill, and we saw them both looking over it together, and pulling wonderfully long faces.

“What is the matter?” asked Delisle. “Anything wrong with the account? Let us know the worst. It cannot be very bad, I hope.”

“Only our excellent friend here has brought us in a charge of a hundred dollars more than we expected to have to pay, or than we ought to pay,” was the answer.

“Never mind; we’ll contest it, and the fellow will have to go without the money, I hope.”

Monsieur Roquion understood the remark, for he grinned widely from ear to ear.

“Go and get us a proper account, Master Yellow-face,” said our chief caterer. “This little bill of yours is too much by half.”

I don’t know if the worthy understood what was said, but he refused to take back the account, and, after grinning at us a little longer, took his departure.

We finished our dinner without much concern about Monsieur Roquion and his bill; but we had unfortunately come to the end of our stock of wine and tea, and a few other luxuries, and where to obtain them except from Monsieur Roquion was a puzzle. The next morning we determined to try, so we went to his shop to order what we wanted; but he instantly met us with a hint that “Le petit compte must first be settled.”

We appealed to the commandant—a personage of whom I have not hitherto spoken, because I had nothing to say in his favour, but very much to the contrary. He replied that the demand was a just one. We suspected that he was to come in for his share of the spoil. We at length got angry, and said that we were cheated and would not pay. Thereat he grinned broadly, and informed us that it was his duty to see justice done to Monsieur Roquion, and that he should stop a portion of our allowances till the debt was paid. We protested loudly against this decision; but he only grinned the more, and with a bland smile informed us that might made right, and that we might take what course we liked.

We could do nothing but submit; and the next pay-day we found that he had determined to stop half our allowance. So we found ourselves reduced to eighteen-pence a day, while the poor midshipmen had only sixpence—a sum on which they could barely exist. We did our best to help them out of our own pittance; but to all of us it was like falling from affluence to penury. Misfortunes, it is said, never come alone. Certainly at that time we experienced plenty of them. We were all sitting together discussing what was best under our circumstances to be done, when Delisle, who had gone to see Captain Williams, came back with the report that he was much worse, and wished to see his son, who was a midshipman, and had been living with the others. Delisle went for the boy; and as he passed by, on his return, I saw that he looked especially sad. That evening notice was brought us that Captain Williams was dead, and his poor young midshipman son was left an orphan; and a prisoner in that far-off pestiferous land. Delisle brought the boy back with him, and with all the kindness of his heart endeavoured to console him.

In that climate decomposition follows death so rapidly that, almost before the human form is cold, it is necessary to commit it to the grave. We agreed, therefore, that early next morning we would all go and pay the last respects to the late unfortunate captain of the Active. Accordingly, snatching a hasty breakfast of dry bread and milk—for that was all the food the present low state of our finances would allow us to indulge in—we sallied forth, taking poor little Williams with us, whom we intended should act as chief mourner. When we arrived at the house, and went into the room where Delisle had last seen the body, it was no longer there. We searched about, but nowhere could we see it. In another room we found Captain Stott, late of the Minerva. His health, like that of his brother captain, had given way, and he looked very ill and wretched.

We told him that we had come to assist in burying poor Captain Williams.

“You have come, then, too late, gentlemen,” he answered with a deep sigh. “Two ill-conditioned negroes came this morning with a guard of three or four soldiers, and informed me that they had come to remove the body. I protested vehemently, and, had I possessed force, would have prevented them, but it was in vain. The wretches, with taunts and sneers at our being heretics and unworthy of Christian burial, carried away the body of my friend and brother-officer, and, I conclude, have thrown him into the ground in some out-of-the-way place.”

Captain Stott was too ill, or he would have followed the barbarians in spite of the soldiers. Two or three other people tried to do so, but were driven back with angry threats, and at last gave up the attempt. We were very indignant when we heard this, and resolved at once to go and try and find out where the wretches had buried the captain. We ascertained the direction they had taken and pursued them. We should soon have been at fault in that trackless part of the country, but we fell in with a little negro boy to whom I had been kind on more than one occasion, and he told us that he had followed the men at a distance, and undertook to show us the spot where our countryman had been buried. It was not far-off, and when we reached it our indignation became greater than ever. The authorities had evidently studied how they could most insult and annoy us.

In a piece of waste ground where offal and rubbish was cast, and where the bodies of the few malefactors who were ever brought to justice, as well as those of dogs and other animals, were deposited, they had ordered our poor friend to be interred. He had been placed there, fastened up in a piece of canvas, without a coffin and without ceremony of any sort. We stood with mournful countenances and with hearts full of bitterness and indignation over the foul spot, discussing among ourselves whether we ought not to dig up the body and carry it to the churchyard of Ou Trou, there to bury it among others who at all events had called themselves Christians. Our intentions must have been suspected, for in a few minutes a guard of soldiers made their appearance, and, threatening us with their pikes or halberds, made us desist. We then determined to go at once to the commandant. He received us with a look of haughty contempt. He remarked that our countryman was a heretic—that the priests considered that he had died out of the pale of their true Church like a dog, and that like a dog he must be buried.

“Does the holy religion of Christ teach you thus to treat your enemies?” exclaimed Delisle, indignantly. “We are Christians, as you call yourselves, and have, as such, a right to Christian burial.”

“I know nothing about that matter,” answered the commandant. “The priests say that you are not, that you are cut off from the only true Church, and are thus condemned to everlasting punishment. This being the case—and I am bound to believe it—what matters it where your bodies are placed?”

Such was the tenor of the reply we received from an officer holding a commission under the government of a nation which prided itself on being the most enlightened and civilised in the world.

Though in France the outward signs of religion were still adhered to, the savants and literati were already paving the way by their false philosophy for that terrific outbreak of popular fury which deluged their country in blood, and well-nigh rooted out all that was noble and good and worthy in the land. At this time in Saint Domingo, and probably in the other French dependencies, there was an ostentatious show of religion which was sadly belied by the manners and customs of the people. At all events, a person bearing his Britannic Majesty’s commission was entitled, as a prisoner of war according to the law of nations, to all the respect due to his rank as an officer and a gentleman.

We returned to our home, wondering who next among us would be carried off to be put into that revolting receptacle of the dead. We had now seriously to turn it in our minds how we should be able to exist. A bright idea struck me—I would become a gardener. There was a considerable portion of ground attached to our mansion. I had had some little experience before in my life; others also knew something about the art, and so we hoped that our united stock of knowledge would produce us a good supply of vegetables. We had unfortunately but little money to purchase tools, or seeds or plants, but we did not disdain to turn beggars. We borrowed what tools we could, and manufactured spades and hoes and rakes out of wood. They were not very neat, but they answered our purpose. Seeds cost but very little; many were given us, others we bought. The poor unsophisticated, ignorant blacks were very kind-hearted, and gave us all they could spare. Thus our garden became our greatest source of amusement, and at the same time a most profitable employment.

Often for days together we had no other food but that which our garden produced. We had yam, cassava, choco, ochro, tomatoes, Indian kale, Lima beans, potatoes, peas, beans, calalue, beet-root, artichokes, cucumbers, carrots, parsnips, radishes, celery and salads of all sorts; nor must I forget the magnificent cabbage-trees some two hundred feet high—not that we planted them, by-the-bye—or the fruits, the cocoa-nut, plantain, banana, the alligator pear, the cashew, papaw, custard apples, and others too numerous to mention; the recollection of which even now makes my mouth water, as it did sometimes then, when we saw but could not obtain them. If it had not been for our garden I believe that we should one and all of us have succumbed to that fell climate. In vain we endeavoured to learn how the war was going on. No news was ever allowed to reach us but what was of the most disheartening nature, and Monsieur Roquion always contrived to bring it with a grin on his countenance which we knew meant mischief, though we could not make up our minds to believe him or not. One day he came in with a smile on his countenance, and shrugging his shoulders—

“Very sorry for you, as we do not here benefit by your loss,” he remarked, endeavouring to put on a look of perfect sincerity. “You have, undoubtedly, heard the sad news. Your brave Admiral Keppel has been defeated in the channel. Most of his ships have been sunk or taken, and he himself has been captured and is a prisoner in France.”

Days and days passed away and we heard no more, and though we used every exertion to discover the truth, no one we met could contradict it. Next we heard that the successful French fleet had pursued Admiral Byron on his voyage to America, had brought him to action and completely dispersed and destroyed his fleet. We daily talked the matter over among ourselves. We could scarcely believe that the sun of England had set so low, and yet what right had we to doubt the truth of what we heard? We had ourselves been captured by the enemy, and might not others have been equally unfortunate?

Then we heard that the French had blocked up Lord Howe in New York, and that the American patriots had triumphed over the British army and were everywhere successful. How earnestly we longed for letters which might inform us of the truth! but our cunning captors took care that we should not get them. Perhaps they themselves believed the reports they spread among us. One thing we knew, that in spite of all their reverses, the English were not likely to give in without a desperate and prolonged struggle, and that, therefore, our captivity might be continued to an indefinite period. I therefore considered if I could not make myself more comfortable than I had hitherto been. I called Tom Rockets to my councils. He, faithful fellow, had been constantly in attendance on me.

“To my mind, sir, the best thing to do would be to keep chickens,” he observed with a look of simple earnestness. “My old mother used to keep them, and I helped her to feed them, and I know all their ways; and if we could get a few we could keep them in this here stable of yours, sir, and they would well-nigh feed themselves.”

I thought Tom’s proposal so good a one that I forthwith put his plan into execution. I had made several friends among the negroes by stopping and talking to them and exchanging a joke occasionally. Not that what I said was always very comprehensible to them, nor were their replies to me, but they understood my signs as I did theirs, so that we got on very well.

“Now, Tom,” said I, “we will go out and buy these same chickens. You know a laying hen from an old cock, I suppose?”

“Lord love ye, yes, sir,” was Tom’s answer, with a grin. “And if so be ye wants any of the rhino, I’ve saved three dollars, which will go far to buy them; and you know, Mr Hurry, sir, it will be an honour and pleasure to me if you will take them. I’ve no use for them, and may be, if they stop burning in my pocket, I shall only drink them up some day.”

I thought this too probable, but still I was unwilling to take the honest, generous-hearted fellow’s money. I had myself scraped together a couple of dollars, with which I expected to be able to purchase a cock and five or six fowls, and I thought that would be enough. Tom and I accordingly set out on our expedition, with our dollars in our pockets. Before long we reached the hut of an old negro and his wife, where I had seen some good-looking fowls. Looking about, however, we saw none of them. As we were going away old Quasho made his appearance, followed by Quashie, his better half. In vain, however, did we tell them we wanted some fowls; I had forgotten the French word, and they did not understand us.

“I think as how I can make them know what we wants, sir,” said Tom and he began crowing away at the top of his voice; then he cackled most lustily and began running about as a hen does before she begins to lay an egg, and finally, having provided himself with a round stone, he produced it as if he had just deposited it in a nest. Then he pulled out one of his dollars and held it up before them. Quasho and Quashie clapped their hands with delight at the significance of the action, and away they scuttled into the woods, soon returning with a couple of hens.

“Bons, bons!” cried Tom, taking them, but not giving up the coin. Again he crowed and again he cackled, and gave the old couple a shove to signify that they were to go off and bring more fowls. It did not suit them, it appeared, to comprehend what he wanted, but Tom was not to be done, so at last Quasho exclaimed—

“Jiggigery, niggery, hop,” or some words which so sounded, and away scuttled the old lady, bringing back a couple more hens.

Tom, having secured them by the legs under his arm, allowing them to peck away at his back, attempted the same manoeuvre, but the old people put on such a look of dull stolidity that I was certain they would give no more fowls for the dollar. I told him, therefore, to give up the dollar, and we continued on our way to another hut, where, for another dollar, we got the same number of fowls. Three dollars were thus expended, and, with our newly-acquired farm produce, we returned in triumph to my stable.

Manby was highly amused at the notion of my turning egg and chicken merchant, which I told him it was my intention to do. In that country food of all sorts for my fowls was easily procured, so I had no difficulty in collecting an ample supply. This became one of my chief occupations. Tom Rockets and I used to go out into the woods with bags, and come back loaded with nuts and seeds and roots for my pets. The consequence of their being thus amply supplied with provisions was that they quickly took to laying eggs, and thus in a short time I had four or five eggs every morning. Some of these Tom and I ate, and others we sold or exchanged for meat. They, with the produce of our kitchen garden, enabled us to be pretty well independent of the provisions furnished us by the authorities. Thus, what I at first thought a misfortune turned out to be a real benefit, because the necessity of procuring food made me exert myself, and afforded me an occupation of interest. I gave them all names, and I knew each of them, and they soon learned to know me and to come at my call. Whichever I summoned came flapping up to me, cackling or crowing as the case might be, whether cock or hen. I was rather proud of the nickname which my messmates gave me of “the farmer.” Often, when they were almost starving after our mess was broken up, I was able to supply myself and Tom with a comfortable breakfast and dinner. Never, indeed, were dollars better expended. I have already mentioned the various reports of disasters to the British arms, both by sea and land, which reached us from time to time. Soon after I got my fowls we were told, as an undoubted fact, that Jersey and Guernsey had been taken by surprise, and that every man, woman, and child in them had been destroyed on account of their loyalty to England; but the most terrific and heart-rending news came at last. It was that England herself had been invaded; that the enemy, having gained a secure footing in the country, had won three or four pitched battles, and had finally taken London, after a terrific resistance, when half the population were slain. Probably, under other circumstances, we should not have believed this last report unless it had been fully authenticated, though, unguarded as the shores of England at that time were, we knew that it was possible; but, dispirited and ill as many of us were, we were fully prepared to give credence to any story even of a less probable character. For two or three weeks we were left in the most dreadful state of doubt and uncertainty as to whether England still existed or not as an independent nation. Some of us fully believed that liberty no longer was to be found except in the highlands of Scotland and among the mountains of Wales.

The first gleam which banished these dreadful surmises was the announcement which reached us on the 5th of November, that Captain Philips, of the 60th Regiment, and Mr Rankin, a passenger in the Minerva, were forthwith to be set at liberty. They received permission to go at once to Jamaica under a flag of truce.

We could scarcely believe this information when we heard it, and it was only when we saw them setting off with joyful countenances, bidding us all farewell, that we were convinced of its truth. It also assured us that the various accounts we had from time to time heard of the disasters which had befallen the power of Great Britain were very contrary to what was the case. The invasion of England had long been a favourite scheme of the French, and I thought then, as I have since, that some ambitious general or sovereign will find it one of the very best cards he can possibly play to make the attempt for the purpose of gaining supreme power in the country, or of securing the position he may before have obtained.

Death was now busy among us. On the 20th of November Captain Stott’s steward died—a faithful fellow, who had willingly followed his master into captivity. Near the village was a wide savannah—an extensive open, level space, destitute of trees, and overgrown in most parts with a rank vegetation, and dotted with pools of water, among which snakes and venomous reptiles of all sorts delighted to roam. Here the poor man was carried by a couple of blacks and cast into a hole they dug for the purpose.

Very soon after this event, which I find recorded in my journal, I most unexpectedly received a box containing linen and clothes, sent me by a friend at Jamaica. In the pockets of some of the clothes I discovered a packet of letters. Two of them were from home. What a thousand thoughts and feelings and regrets did their contents conjure up! Many, many months had passed away since I had heard from any of my relations and friends in Old England, and I had begun almost to fancy that I was forgotten, and should never receive any more letters. I read these over and over again, and then I went in search of Delisle, that I might have the pleasure of reading them to him. He and I were like brothers, and like a brother he entered into all my feelings, and was almost as much interested in the contents of my letters as I was myself. One of them was from my sister Lucy—a sweet, good, pretty girl. I described her to him, and, poor fellow, from my portrait, (I am sure it was not overdrawn, though), he fell in love with her. He was ever afterwards talking of her, and constantly asking to see her letters, and I agreed to introduce him when we got home, whenever that might be, and he promised, if she would have him, to marry her. So it was settled between us. No one will find fault with him or me for what we did.

I must not forget another important letter from the friend who sent the box. In it he told me that the admiral had most kindly kept a vacancy open for me as a lieutenant on board the Ostrich, but at last, when he could not arrange my exchange, he had been reluctantly compelled to fill it up. This, of course, added to my annoyance at having been made prisoner. The parcel of clothes was very valuable, for I found that they would fetch a high price in the place, and as in that warm climate a very small supply was sufficient, I resolved on selling the greater portion of them. This I forthwith did, at a price which enabled me to pay all my debts at the hucksters’ shops, and gave me a good sum besides. I thought that it would have been inexhaustible, and accordingly feasted sumptuously for several weeks, and entertained my friends freely in my stable, or rather in front of it, where, under the shade of a grove of cocoa-nut trees, I used to spread my board.

On the 2nd of December, Mr Camel, who had been purser of the Active, and the son of Captain Williams, were sent to Jamaica on their parole in a cartel, but no one else of our party was allowed to leave the place. Reports had just been going about to the effect that we were all to be forthwith exchanged, and therefore, when we found that they were false, an overpowering despondency sprung up among us. To increase the misery of our condition, a report reached the commandant, invented by some malicious person, or perhaps by the authorities themselves, to increase the harsh treatment to which we were subjected, to the effect that we had formed a plot to set fire to the village, and that, taking advantage of the confusion thus created, we intended endeavouring to make our way to the sea, and then to seize some small vessel and escape in her to Jamaica. It was not likely that a number of officers who had given their parole to remain quiet would be guilty of an act so dishonourable as to endeavour to escape. It was, however, believed, and we were in consequence even more severely treated than before. I say believed, but I should be more correct if I said that the authorities pretended to believe it. We had now a guard constantly set over us, and whenever we went out we were narrowly watched. The food with which we were furnished was worse than ever, and when we complained of the purveyors or hucksters the commandant replied that he could not interfere, and that we must take what was offered us, and be thankful that it was no worse. Often many of our poor fellows had not the bare necessaries of life, and it was only by great exertion that I was able to procure them, as I have described, for myself and a few of my more intimate friends. I had not supposed that so degenerate a race of Frenchmen existed, for when they saw us all rapidly sickening and advancing towards the grave, instead of relaxing their system of tyranny, they only increased their ill-treatment, and made us believe that they really wished to put us to death by inches.

On the 4th, poor young Bruce, a midshipman of the Minerva, died, and was buried in the savannah among many of our countrymen who had already fallen victims to disease. Captain Stott, we heard, was sinking fast, and on the 15th he too succumbed to sickness and, I truly believe, a broken heart. Some of his friends attended him to the last, and a large body of us went up to keep guard, to prevent his body being carried away, as had been the case with Captain Williams.

As soon as he was dead, we lieutenants carried him to our own house and in the morning we sent a deputation to the commandant, saying, that as Captain Stott was one of the oldest officers in his Majesty’s service, we considered that he ought to be buried with as much form and ceremony as circumstances would allow in the public cemetery of the place. Our request was, however, peremptorily refused. We all of us, accordingly, assembled in our uniforms, and bore the body of the old captain to the savannah, where, at a lonely spot, we dug a grave with such implements as we possessed, and, prayers being said, deposited him in it near his midshipman and steward.

There they rest, in that scarcely known locality, free from that trouble and care which has followed many of those who attended them to their graves. Some of those were, however, soon to be laid to rest alongside them. Perhaps it was through some feeling of humanity that, a few days afterwards, the son and nephew of Captain Stott—two little fellows scarcely more than ten years old—were allowed to go to Jamaica under charge of Mr Varmes, purser of the Minerva. Bartholomew, one of the lieutenants of the same ship, was very ill of the fever. He had scarcely been able to creep to the burial of his late commander, but still he had some hopes of recovery. Our medical man had very little experience of the nature of the fell disease which was attacking us, so that those taken ill had but a small chance of getting well.

I was sitting one day by the side of poor Bartholomew, endeavouring to afford him what consolation I could. Alas! with regard to his worldly prospects there was little I could offer. I tried to point to higher things—to the world to come. Unfortunately men do not think enough of that till they are on its very threshold. He was expressing a hope that he should get better, and I entertained the same; suddenly the door of the room was thrown open, and Adams, another of the Minerva’s lieutenants, rushed into the room with an animated countenance—

“Cheer up, Bartie, old fellow!” he exclaimed. “An order has just arrived for our release. I have seen it, and we are to set off at once for Jamaica.”

“Hurrah!” exclaimed the other lieutenant, lifting himself up in his bed. “Then I shall not have to leave my bones in this horrid hole. Hurrah! On, my fine fellows, on!”

He waved his hand above his head as if he had his sword in it, and was leading a party of boarders. I heard a rattling sound. I looked at his countenance. An awful change had come over it. Before I could even support him he fell back in his bed and was dead. Adams and I stood for a moment like persons petrified, so sudden and shocking was the event. We bore him at sunset to our field of the dead in the savannah, and there the hands of his friends and brother-officers laid him beside the grave of his late captain. Adams, however, got away and reached Jamaica in safety. Thus ended, in gloom and almost hopeless despondency, that, to us prisoners, ever memorable year of 1778. For what we could tell to the contrary then, we might have to remain till peace was restored, or till England succumbed to the enemies gathering round her.

Proud of our country as we were, and confident of the bravery of her sons, what had we to hope for? Although at sea the ancient supremacy of our flag had been ably upheld, on shore, either from want of good generals or from our pernicious military system—perhaps from both causes combined—no brilliancy had been shed on the British arms; indeed, we only heard of defeats, ill-conducted expeditions, and disasters of all sorts, which often made our hearts sink to the very depths of despondency.

Chapter Seventeen.

Attacked with fever.—Mammy Gobo, my black nurse.—Recovery.—Death of Delisle.—Sail for Jamaica.—Promoted.—Join the Porcupine.—Chase.—A mishap.—Becalmed.—Provisions run short.—Sufferings.—A fresh breeze brings us relief.—Jamaica again.

I had long held out against the attacks of that arch enemy, the yellow fever, to which so many of my companions in misfortune had succumbed. Several vacancies having occurred in the house, Manby had gone there and left me to the society of Tom Rockets and my cocks and hens. I, however, had got so accustomed to the place that I had no wish to go elsewhere. Impunity had made me fancy that I was proof against the fever. It found me out, however. In an instant I was struck down. I entreated that I might be left where I was. Tom made me up as comfortable a bed as he could, and covered me with a boat-cloak and a blanket. Strange as it may seem, in that climate I felt excessively cold, and thought that nothing would warm me. Hour after hour I lay shivering as if nothing could ever make me warm again, and expecting all the time that I was about to die, and thinking that those I loved most on earth would perhaps never gain tidings of my fate. Then I felt so hot that I had a longing to jump into the nearest stream to cool my fevered blood. Poor Tom sat by my side, often wringing his hands in despair, not knowing how to treat me, and yet anxious to do all in his power to be of assistance. At length one day he jumped up as if a bright thought had just struck him, and out he ran, leaving me alone. I scarcely expected that I should be alive when he came back, so weak and wretched did I feel. An hour or more passed when he reappeared, accompanied by an old black woman with whom I had occasionally exchanged a joke in passing, and I believe bestowed on her some trifle or other,—Mammy Gobo I used to call her,—little thinking the service she would be to me. She felt me all over and looked at my tongue, and then off she trotted. She soon, however, came back with some pots and herbs and some bricks. She first made Tom dig a hole, in which she lighted a fire and at it heated some bricks. These she applied at once to my feet, and, putting on her pots, formed some decoctions with the herbs, which she made me swallow in large quantities. Had she not providentially come, I believe that I should have died that very night. As it was, I was evidently a subject requiring all her care and skill. She seemed anxious to bestow both on me. All night long she sat up by my side, and all day she watched over me. It appeared to me that she never slept. If I opened my eyes they were certain to fall on her jolly ugly visage, with her large eyes turned full upon me, seemingly to inquire what I wanted. When at last she began to go away occasionally for half an hour at a time to collect more herbs, or for some other purpose, Rockets was always ready to take her place, and attended me with all the affection of a true and warm friend. Strong as my constitution was, I am very sure that had I not been watched over by Mammy Gobo and Tom I should not have recovered—that is to say, I felt then, and I feel more strongly now, that they were the instruments, under a merciful Providence, by which I was preserved so long from destruction while hanging between life and death, and ultimately of my recovery, though it was long before that took place. Probably in consequence of his constant attendance on me, before I had begun to recover, Tom himself was attacked with the fever, and there he lay in the stall next to me, moaning and groaning, and occasionally raging with delirium. I ought to have mentioned that some time before this our old horse had been removed to a place of superior accommodation—I suspect to our tumble-down, rickety stable; but, as we wanted his room more than his company, we did not complain of this. Mammy Gobo was no respecter of persons, and I was glad to find that she attended on Tom with as much care as she had done on me. The poor fellow was very grateful.

“Ah, sir,” he said, “though that ’ere nigger woman has got a black skin, to my mind she has as good and red a heart in her body as any white-faced person. It’s just the painting of the outside which ain’t altogether according to our notions; but after all, sir, beauty is, as you know, sir, only skin deep.”

I fully agreed with him on this point, and at that moment poor Mammy Gobo was more welcome to our sight than the most beautiful creature in existence. What cooling drinks she concocted out of herbs and simples, and what delicious messes out of various sorts of vegetables and fruits and roots, the productions of that fruitful climate! However, Mammy Gobo could not always attend on us, for she had several other patients and had to look after her own affairs at home. During her absence our poor chickens fared but ill, for we could not go out to collect food for them, and the supply we had before stored up was soon expended. They, in consequence, had to go forth to forage for themselves. At first they came back regularly enough, but then we remarked that one was missing; then next day another did not make its appearance, and so on the third day two were missing. In a few days half our stock were lost. We told Mammy Gobo of what had occurred, and she said she would try and find out who had robbed us. When, however, she was present, all the chickens came back. We certainly did not suspect her of being the thief, but we felt sure that the real thieves watched her movements and ran off with our fowls when she was out of the way. We were compelled also to kill several of our stock of chickens for food, Mammy Gobo having especially prescribed chicken-broth when we became somewhat convalescent. They were now reduced to a very small number. One by one they also disappeared till none remained, and then we were indeed in a very miserable and forlorn condition. We were still too ill, however, to think much of the future, but we found it impossible to supply even our present wants; and had not the kind-hearted black woman catered for us, assuring the hucksters that I was certain to recover and pay them, I believe that we should have starved.

At last I was able to get about a little, though the fever was still on me, and I managed to crawl to the house to see some of my brother-officers. The greater number of them were sick, or had been ill and nearer death’s door. I inquired for my old shipmate and friend, Delisle. “He is ill in that room,” was the reply. I went forthwith to him. A few short weeks of sickness had made a great change in his countenance. He took my hand when I approached the wretched pallet on which he was stretched.

“I am glad to see you recovering, my dear Hurry,” he said in a low, feeble voice. “It is all up with me, though. I shall never be a post-captain—never command a ship—my last battle is fought. I must yield to God’s will. It seems hard, though. You know all about my friends. If you ever reach home, go and tell them about me. I can’t talk more. I am weak—very weak—couldn’t hail the maintop if I was to try. Oh, it’s hard, very hard, to be thus cut off by the arm of this vile climate—very, very.”

He was silent. I tried to console him, to raise his spirits, for I was certain they had a good deal to do in enabling a person to recover. In vain were all my efforts. He sank slowly, and before morning one who had long been my friend and the companion of my Orlopian days on board the Orpheus, and lately my messmate also in the Bristol, was no more. The blow prostrated me in body and spirits, and I felt inclined to give in, and lay my head down beside his. Soon after daylight we sallied forth with the body of our brother-officer, and took our way towards the dreary savannah. We were followed by some of our guards and other individuals, anxious, we concluded, to watch our proceedings. Our party was but small, for alas! the greater number of the lieutenants were unable from sickness to attend the funeral. We were a melancholy party—pale, haggard, and squalid. We placed the body on the grass. What a fine, handsome young fellow he looked! We began to dig his grave. Without consideration, we began to dig it east and west. When we had proceeded some way in our work, our French masters interfered and said that we ought to dig it north and south, that only Christian men, good Catholics, should be buried east and west, that they might be ready to rise when summoned by the sound of the last trump. We resolved, however, not to give in to so absurd a demand, and continued our labours. Again the Frenchmen interfered. On a further consultation one of our party recollected that graves were usually placed east and west in England, and so we told our tyrants that we were only following one of our own national customs, and to it we intended to adhere. From our not recollecting the custom, all our other countrymen had been buried north and south. After some further dispute about the matter we were allowed to proceed, and thus poor Delisle rests in the position which is considered most orthodox, though I cannot say that I should be inclined to attach much importance to the matter. Sad and sick, I went back to our stable. The exertion I had gone through almost finished me. The other lieutenants wanted me to go to their house, but I had no spirits for society. I preferred my own wretched abode and the companionship of Tom Rockets and the old black woman. Never did one brother mourn for another more sincerely than I did for Gerard Delisle. Thus the days and weeks and months drew slowly along till April arrived. That month was passed much as the others till on the 28th, a day not likely to be forgotten by me. Several of my friends had come in to see me, and they were all sitting about in the stable. We were bemoaning, as we often did, our hard fate.

“As for me,” I exclaimed, “I fully expect to lay my bones in that dark, dreary savannah! What hope have I of ever getting away?”

Suddenly a voice was heard outside the door shouting lustily. We thought it was one of our friends running about in the delirium of fever, when in rushed Lieutenant Moriarty with an open letter in his hand of a very official appearance.

“It was directed to me, so I broke the seal. You and Manby and I are free. Hurrah, boys, hurrah!” he exclaimed. “Hurrah, hurrah!”

I thought at first that he was mad, and could not believe him till he let me inspect the letter. It was from General D’Argue, informing us that, in consequence of a request from Sir Peter Parker, we had leave to embark on board a cartel for Jamaica. I turned the document over and over again in my hand. There could be no doubt about its genuineness. Ill and weak as we all were, for we still had the fever on us, we resolved to set off the moment we were able. After the first ebullition of our feelings was over, we recollected what must be the sensation of the friends we were leaving behind, and Moriarty did his best to soothe them by assuring them how rejoiced we should be if they were able to go likewise. Some of them, I thought, looked compassionately on me, for I was at that time confined to my bed, such as it was, and, as I thought, utterly unable to walk. The news of my liberty, however, worked more wonders towards my cure than all the physic the first of doctors could have given me, or the decoctions of good Mammy Gobo. The next day, however, when it was known that I had got my liberty, the hucksters, shoemakers, and washerwomen poured in their bills on me, which, though not of any great amount, I found totally beyond my means to pay. I promised them that I would transmit the amounts the instant I got back to Jamaica; but they said that would not do, and that if I could not pay them they must appeal to the authorities, and that I must be detained. I was in despair. I was eager to be gone. I felt that I should not live if I remained. In my dilemma Lieutenant Lawford, who had a letter of credit on a merchant at Cape François, came forward in the most liberal and generous way, and supplied me with fifty dollars, which was all I required to satisfy the demands of my creditors. My mind being thus relieved, I felt myself strong enough to get up and assist in making the preparations for our journey. We engaged a carriage to convey us to the coast, for none of us were in a fit state to ride on horseback. I will not dwell on the sad countenances and the depressed spirits of our brother-officers whom we left behind.

On the morning of the 30th of April, with a buoyancy of spirits to which I had long been a stranger, I with my companions got into the rickety vehicle which was to convey us the first part of our journey, Tom Rockets being perched on a seat behind. We arrived at about eight o’clock at the village of Lemonade—an attractive name on a hot day—and near there found a boat in readiness to carry us to Cape François. How delicious the sea-breeze smelt!—how refreshing to our parched skins and stagnant blood! It appeared to me to drive away at once all the remains of the fever. I felt like a new being, strong and hearty, in a moment. I found, however, when I attempted to exert my strength, that I had very little of that left. Once more we found ourselves in the far-from-delectable town of Cape François. As the cartel was not ready, we had to take up our abode at a tavern, where we were joined by two other naval officers who had been imprisoned in another part of the island. We had some difficulty in amusing ourselves during our stay, but every day we were picking up health and strength, and at length, on the 8th, we all five embarked, with two masters of merchantmen who had lost their vessels, and thirty seamen, on board the cartel, and commenced our voyage to Jamaica. On the 10th we put into Saint Germains, another part of Saint Domingo, where we received some more released prisoners, and on the following day we bid what I hoped would prove an eternal adieu to the most inhospitable of islands. With the exception of the houses we had stopped at on our way to Ou Trou, we had not been received into the abodes of any of the white inhabitants of the country. Some of the coloured people would willingly have treated us kindly, but they were kept in awe by the authorities, and thus the only real kindness we received was from the poor unsophisticated blacks. For my own part, I have felt ever since deeply grateful to Mammy Gobo and her ebony-skinned countrymen and countrywomen, and have been most anxious to do them all the good in my power. With regard to the French residents, all I can say is that I recognised among them none of the supposed characteristics of the French nation. Instead of proving hospitable and polite, I should say that I never saw a greater set of bears in my life.

Our voyage was short and merry, though one of the subjects which afforded us most amusement was our own forlorn, half-starved, almost naked condition. We were all much alike, so we could afford to laugh at each other. The weather held fine and our voyage was speedy, and on the ever-to-be-remembered 13th of May we sighted the entrance of Port Royal harbour, where we dropped anchor in the afternoon. I found that I had been absent exactly nine months and three days. In spite of my tatter-demalion appearance and my consciousness that I was much like the wretched apothecary who supplied the love-lorn Romeo with the fatal potion, as soon as I got on shore I hastened up to pay my respects to Sir Peter Parker. He received me, as I knew he would, with the greatest kindness, and when I apologised for my ragged appearance he laughed and assured me that he would much rather see an officer in a threadbare uniform, worn out in active service, than in one shining and bright in consequence of want of use.

“You’ll stay to dinner with me, Mr Hurry,” said the admiral. “We must try to put some more flesh on those bones of yours.”

I looked at my tattered garments.

“Oh, never mind those; they are honourable, like a flag well riddled,” he observed. “I want you, besides, to tell me all that happened to you during your captivity.”

Dinner was soon afterwards announced, and during it I gave the admiral an account of the chief events which had happened while I was at Ou Trou. He was very indignant when he heard of the way we had been treated, and especially of the mode in which Captains Williams and Stott had been buried. I made him laugh at some of our contrivances, and particularly at my having turned hen keeper. I described also to him our residence in the stable with the old horse. I declared that I had tried to teach the horse my language, and, not succeeding, had endeavoured to learn his, and that I was in a fair way of succeeding when he was removed from our habitation. This really was the case; I had made great friends with the old animal, and I was beginning to know exactly the meaning of all the noises he made. The admiral was highly amused with all I told him. He put me, in return, in high spirits by informing me that, on hearing I was captured, he had directed that I should be rated as a mate of the Bristol, and kept on her books, and that, in consequence, I was entitled to a share of prize-money, which, as she had been very successful, would be of some amount. Several officers, post-captains and others, were present, as were three or four civilians, planters and merchants. The latter invited me to their houses, and one of them, Mr Martin, insisted that I should drive back with him, and make his house my home till I got a ship.

“That he has got already,” said the admiral, presenting me with a paper, which I found was my commission as lieutenant, and that I was appointed to the Porcupine sloop-of-war of fourteen guns, commanded by Captain John Packenham. I could not find words to express my thanks to the admiral, but he said, “Pooh, pooh; we want active, intelligent, gallant young men not afraid of a gale of wind, or of an enemy ashore or afloat,” he answered. “You have fairly won your promotion, and I congratulate you on obtaining it.”

With these kind words I parted from the admiral, and took my seat in my new friend’s carriage.

“We have time to see old Stukely this evening, and ascertain the amount you have got to your credit. It won’t make you sleep the worse,” said he, as we drove along.

“Forty or fifty pounds, probably,” I remarked. “It would make me feel as rich as a king.”

“We will see, we will see,” he replied.

To the agent’s we went. He was a friend of Mr Martin’s, so without more ado he turned to his books.

“Hurry? Hurry of the Bristol?” he muttered. “A trifle, I know.”

I bethought me, “It won’t be ten pounds after all, perhaps.”

“Oh, yes, here I have it. Three hundred pounds, Mr Hurry! You can draw it whenever you like: our friend here will assure me of your identity.”

I couldn’t help throwing up my cap for joy.

“Well, I am rich,” I exclaimed; “like that old fellow Croesus I once read of at school. Thank you, sir—thank you. Hurrah, hurrah!” I burst out into a loud fit of laughter.

At first Mr Martin smiled at my joy, but he soon began to look grave, as did the agent, for they perceived that I was over-excited—that, in truth, the admiral’s good wine and my unexpected good fortune, acting on a frame shattered by sickness, had upset me, and they seemed to think that there was every probability of a return of my fever.

“I am very glad to hear that you have got this little sum. It will help to supply you with an outfit,” observed Mr Martin, wishing to calm me down a little.

“Enough for an outfit!—enough to fit out a prince or found a kingdom,” I exclaimed vehemently. “Ha, ha, ha!”

“Well, never mind that just now,” said my kind friend; “just get into my barouche, and come along to my house in the meantime. To-morrow we will talk about these matters.”

I made no resistance, and, getting into his carriage, we soon reached his cool and comfortable mansion in the neighbourhood of Kingston. I was immediately put to bed, and off I went into a sleep so sound that an earthquake or an hurricane would scarcely have awoke me.

It was late in the day when I at length opened my eyes, feeling quite a new being. A thorough sound sleep, with my mind at ease as to my prospects, was all I required to restore me to health. This I had not got since I left Ou Trou. As soon as I had dressed and breakfasted I set off for Port Royal harbour, and joined my ship, as happy a fellow, I may truly say, as ever crossed salt water. I was most kindly received by my new shipmates, who seemed to vie with each other in trying to make amends to me for the sufferings I had undergone. I had very little time to be idle, or to amuse myself on shore. That I suspect was the better for me. The ship was all ready for sea, and on the 18th of the month, just four days after I got back to Jamaica, we sailed on a cruise, in company with his Majesty’s frigate Hinchinbrook, commanded by Captain Parker, the admiral’s son, off Cape Saint Antonio. I found that the Camel, which had been sent to accompany a fleet through the gulf, had on her return, when off Cape Saint Antonio, seen a considerable number of Saint Domingo ships. One she had taken which was very valuable, but, being a slow sailer, the others had escaped her. Her captain informed Sir Peter that he was certain if a couple of ships would sail immediately the fortunes of all on board would be made. In consequence of this the admiral despatched the Hinchinbrook and my ship the Porcupine, directing us not to wait to fill up with provisions or water, but to proceed at once to the locality where these rich prizes were to be found.

On the 25th we arrived off our station. The next day a stranger was reported in sight—a schooner. We made all sail in chase. How delightful it was to feel myself once more on board ship, bowling away with a fine breeze through the free sparkling waters, with England’s time-honoured flag above my head. I could scarcely refrain from shouting with pleasure, and I do not think that anybody would have been much astonished had I done so, for I should have replied, “Let me tell you, old fellows, if any of you had been shut up in a dull village in an abominable climate, half-starved, ill-treated and insulted, hearing constantly that old England was conquered, that her fleets were destroyed, and her people led into captivity, with your companions and friends dying about you, and, when dead, buried like dogs, you would shout when you found yourselves at liberty, and able once more to do battle with the enemies of your country.”

Whether the schooner was American or French we could not at first determine, but that she was an enemy there could be no doubt. The prospect of prize-money is always pleasant, though when obtained, in too many cases, it is spent in folly and extravagance. All hands were in high spirits; a good beginning to a successful cruise we thought it would prove. Cape Antonio bore at the time south-east. We had almost got the chase within range of our guns, when a grating sound was heard, and a shock was felt which sent most of the ship’s company toppling down on their noses; the water surged up alongside, and we found that we were on shore. Here might be a speedy conclusion to all our hopes of prize-money—not that we cared for the paltry sum the vessel in sight might have given us, but for what we might obtain by our cruise altogether. Not a moment was lost in clewing-up everything, lowering boats, and in laying out anchors; but, notwithstanding, we stuck hard and fast. British seamen, however, do not give way to despair in a hurry. Fresh anchors and warps were laid out. We sounded round the ship to see where most water was to be found. Then we worked away with our purchases. We had no wish to start our water or to heave our guns and provisions overboard till the last extremity. Fortunately the wind fell. We hove away with a will. “Hurrah, hurrah?” was the cry fore and aft; “she moves, she moves!” Our success encouraged us. The Hinchinbrook, before we got on shore, was out of sight; so was the chase by this time. At length our efforts were rewarded with success, and once more we had deep water under our keel. What was satisfactory, also, we had suffered little or no damage.

For the next fortnight we were employed chiefly in chasing and speaking a vast number of Spanish merchantmen bound to the Havannah, and as we little suspected all the time that war had been declared between England and Spain, we allowed them to proceed. This was provoking enough, for, they would have proved very rich prizes. We spoke also his Majesty’s ships Winchelsea, Camel, Lynne, and Druid, with a convoy from England for Jamaica, and on the 15th of June, the period of our cruise being up, and our provisions, moreover, growing short, we left our station and made sail for Port Royal.

On the 1st of July, judging by our reckoning that we were within a few leagues of Jamaica, our surprise was very considerable when we struck soundings on the Misteriosa bank, about a hundred leagues to the westward of where we supposed ourselves to be. Captain Packenham sent forthwith for the purser, and in consequence of the report he gave we were immediately put on half allowance, having, even at that rate, provisions to last us only for fourteen days. There we were, dead to leeward, while light winds and frequent calms occasioned our progress to be very slow. We kept at it, however, making every inch of ground we could. Still by the 12th, being at a considerable distance from land, we were of necessity put on yet further reduced allowance of a biscuit a day, an ounce of pork and half a pint of water. I, who just then required sustenance more than most of my companions, felt the want of substantial food very much. The Hinchinbrook, with which we were still in company, was also short of provisions, and could ill spare any to supply our wants. We now both of us felt the inconvenience of having sailed in so great a hurry. It had been calculated that we should take a week to get to our station; that we should cruise there a couple of weeks, and take a week to return. Things were now growing extremely serious, though the men bore their want of food very well, but we could not help seeing clearly that the time might shortly come when we should really have nothing whatever on board. On the 15th, believing that we could not possibly reach a port, we stood to the northward and kept in the latitude of Jamaica, hoping thus to fall in with a fleet of merchantmen under convoy of some ships of war, which we knew were to sail from Jamaica about that time. We had look-outs stationed at each mast-head, eagerly on the watch for any strange sail, friend or foe, from which we might have obtained relief. We should certainly have attacked any foe, even twice our force, for the sake of obtaining food from them. I believe that, so desperately we should have fought, we should have conquered. Men are like wild beasts when hungry. There is nothing they will not dare and do. Still we were doomed to disappointment. On the 30th of July, all our bread and water being expended, we were reduced to an allowance of one ounce of pork for each man daily. It did just to keep body and soul together. We were compelled to send each day on board the Hinchinbrook for a small cask of water, which was all they could spare us. Even of this small allowance we felt that we might any day be deprived, should we, as was very probable, be separated from our consort by a gale of wind. On the 2nd of August the faces of the purser and his clerks were longer than usual. The ounce of pork was diminished to half an ounce, and then some of the messmen found that they were getting only a quarter of an ounce, I guessed, by the countenances of the men as they went forward, but they said nothing. They very well knew that the present state of things could not be helped. Very soon the purser came aft to the captain who was on the quarter-deck—

“Sir, I have to report that there is not a pint of water or an ounce of bread or biscuit, or anything eatable on board,” was his very unsatisfactory announcement.

The captain stood as cool and unmoved as if he was hearing an account of any ordinary occurrence.

“You have some tallow candles and oil, and some raisins, and a few other little things of that sort?” he remarked.

The purser said there was a small supply on board.

“Very well, they will serve to keep all hands alive for a day or two, and by that time we may hope to fall in with assistance,” he answered.

He then called us all round him, and officially announced what the purser had told him.

“I’ll let the people know the state of things,” he added, and directed that they should be summoned aft.

Their pale, thin faces, and the slow way in which many of them walked, showed that the want of sufficient food was already telling on their strength.

“My lads,” said Captain Packenham, “we put to sea in a hurry, and we expected to be back before our provisions were expended, but we are mistaken. We are short of food, but many ships have been in a worse case. We have done our best to get back to Jamaica, and as we cannot get there, I hope we may fall in with some vessels or other from which we may get a supply of provisions, either friends to give them to us, or enemies from which we may take them, and, hungry as we are, I would not fear to lay you alongside an enemy’s ship, for I am very certain you would take care to provide yourselves with a good supper at the end of the fight.”

The crew warmly cheered this speech, though the voices of many of the poor fellows sounded hollow and faint. They knew, however, that, badly off as they might be, not an officer would touch a mouthful of food while they were without it. How eagerly we all looked out for a sail which might bring us relief! There was no necessity to hail the mast-heads to ascertain that the men stationed there were doing their duty. I certainly did not wish myself back at Ou Trou, but I never suffered such pangs of hunger there as I was now doing. We had two or three prophets of disaster on board, and they were continually citing instances where the whole crew of a ship had died from starvation, or perhaps where only one or two had survived to tell the tale of their misfortunes. Water was our greatest want. The wind was light, almost a calm, and the sun shone forth on the calm shining sea with intense fury, the very pitch in the teams of our decks bubbled up, and if we had a beef steak we might have cooked it on the capstan-head. We put on our sword-belts, and drew them tighter and tighter round our waists. The men used their handkerchiefs for the same object. But all would not do. Tight as we drew them we could not stop the gnawing pangs which attacked us. Those on watch had, of course, to keep the deck. The rest of the officers lay down in their cabins, but I could not remain in mine. I was soon again out of it, and climbing up aloft eagerly to scan the horizon, in the hopes of finding a sail in sight. In vain I looked round; not a speck was to be seen above the horizon. At length the sun went down, and darkness came on, and there the ship lay becalmed, with her crew of starving men. Anxiously all that night passed away—the calm continued. We had indeed practical experience of how hard hunger and thirst is to bear. We could see the Hinchinbrook at a little distance from us, rolling her polished sides in the water, over which the moonbeams were now playing. She was now in as bad a condition as we were, and could no longer render us any assistance. The sun again rose, and then the two ships lay with their sails idly flapping against the masts. A hurricane would at that time have been welcomed—anything to move us on. There was no piping to breakfast that day. The boatswain put his whistle to his mouth, but instantly let it fall again. The men, however, were mustered at divisions, and then they were set on to do all sorts of work, to keep their minds employed if possible, although their jaws were to be idle. At dinner-time as much of the oil and tallow candles as could be spared was served out, but some of the men could not touch the greasy compound, even though about a thimbleful of rum was offered at the same time to wash it down.

“Stay a bit,” observed the surgeon, “in two or three days they will take it eagerly enough.”

It was not from hunger we suffered so much as from thirst. That was terrible. Hour after hour passed by. No relief appeared. I began almost to wish that I had laid my head down alongside my poor friend and old shipmate, Delisle, in the desolate savannah near Ou Trou. The thought was wrong—rank ingratitude to the merciful providence which had preserved me—but it was human, I fear. How admirably our gallant fellows behaved! Scarcely a murmur or a grumble was heard. Again the sun went down. That night was one of great suffering among many of the crew. Some tried to keep up their own spirits and those of their messmates by singing and cutting jokes and telling stories. Still it would not do. They soon broke down. The surgeons kept going about, administering stimulants to those who appeared sinking, but their store of medicine was soon exhausted, and they could do no more. Day came again, but no relief was brought us. I with others climbed aloft. Not a sail was in sight. In vain—in vain we scanned the horizon, the calm continued, and the ships floated idly on the smooth, sullen, treacherous water. Yet who that could by any possibility have seen those two fine, well-appointed men-of-war would have supposed that so much suffering, alarm, and dread existed on board them! Death had not yet visited us, but we could not tell when he would commence his work of destruction. Any moment he might begin to strike, and we knew that he would not cease till he had made an end of all. The men were piped to divisions, but scarcely an attempt was made to find employment for them. They lay listlessly along the decks, some could scarcely walk. The voices of the officers, as they issued their orders, sounded hollow and strange. I felt sure that many would not last out another day. The hours still drew slowly on, without bringing us any relief. Captain Packenham had retired to his cabin to conceal the pain he was suffering. The first lieutenant and I still kept the deck, but I began to feel that I must soon go below, or I should fall where I stood. The greater part of the crew were completely prostrate. Some few of the stronger men continued every now and then to go aloft to take a look-out round the horizon, to learn if any sail were in sight. I turned to my brother-officer—

“What think you, Staunton, of our prospects?” said I.

“The Jamaica fleet ought to be here by this time,” he answered.

“But if they have been delayed, or have already passed or steered another course, what are we to do?” I urged.

“Starve to death,” he answered, in a hollow voice. “A day—a few hours—will settle the point.”

We neither of us spoke again for long after that. The ship’s head kept going round and round the compass. Some of the people were too weak even to endeavour to crawl into the shade. We supported ourselves as long as we could against the bulwarks, but at length had to sit down on a gun-carriage, our knees refusing any longer to hold us up. The day was drawing on. I felt with Staunton that another day would settle the question of life or death for most of us. One by one the men had come down from aloft, giving up all hope of seeing a sail approaching to our relief. Weak as they were, we could not insist on any of the poor fellows remaining up there, except as volunteers.

I was thinking over all I had gone through at different parts of my life, and how often I had been mercifully preserved. “I’ll not give in even now,” I said to myself. “I’ll go aloft, and have another look-out.” Suddenly I felt my strength returning. I got up, and, slinging my glass over my shoulder, went up the fore rigging. It appeared to me that I was as strong and active as ever. I gained the foretop mast-head. I unslung my glass and looked out. There, right away to the westward, was a long, dark line in the horizon, which could be caused I knew alone by a fresh breeze, and even as I looked and hailed the welcome sign of deliverance, several dots appeared above it, the loftier sails, as I well knew, of approaching ships. I rubbed my eyes. Again I looked to assure myself of the reality of what I fancied I saw, and that I might not be deceived by some phantom of the brain. No, I was certain that I was right; there were the approaching sails. With a strong breeze they came on quickly towards us.

“Several sail in sight!” I shouted out, and my voice was scarcely weaker than usual. I waved my hand and pointed in the direction I saw them.

The effect was electrical. Men who seemed before almost at their last gasp rose to their feet. The officers came hurrying on deck. Captain Packenham himself appeared. Many mounted the rigging and joined me aloft to assure themselves that I was not deceived. There could be no doubt about the matter. All saw the approaching ships. Royals, topgallant sails, topsails appeared one after the other above the horizon. They might be the ships of the expected Jamaica fleet, or they might be enemies. By that time the sea was swarming with them. In that case we should have to fight for what we wanted.

“No matter,” was the cry of all on board, “we are ready and able as ever to meet a foe.”

The prospect of relief roused everyone, and though our cheeks were thin and our strength was feeble, our spirits rose and we felt that we could fight as well as ever. Anxiously we watched the approaching strangers. As we rose their courses out of the water we felt pretty certain from their appearance that some of them were men-of-war. At length we made out their colours. They were English. They might, however, have been hoisted to deceive us. Not to be taken by surprise we went to quarters. We now clearly ascertained that the two headmost ships were frigates and the rest merchantmen. They soon showed the private signals. They were the Aeolus and Prudente frigates with the long-expected convoy for England. We hoisted signals of distress, and, lowering our boats, they were alongside them by the time they hove-to near us.

The different way in which we were treated by the officers of the two frigates was very remarkable. Captain Waldegrave of the Prudente aided us in the most kind and compassionate way, and he was warmly seconded by two of his lieutenants, Campbell and Ferris, who exerted themselves to the utmost to bring provisions on board without an instant’s delay. They sent us their own dinners which had just been dressed, and also all the cooked meat on board, so that we were able at once to satisfy the cravings of hunger. They despatched also all the delicacies they could think of, likely to be of use to us from their own private stores. The officers of the other frigate, on the contrary, treated our sufferings with heartless indifference, and seemed much vexed at having to give up some of their provisions towards supplying our wants, and at the delay which we caused them.

The masters of the merchantmen seemed to vie with each other which should afford us most voluntary assistance, and among others we were especially indebted to Captain Louis of the Augustus Caesar, a large London ship, who sent us wine, tea, sugar, sheep, fowls—indeed, everything we could possibly require. Altogether from them and the men-of-war we were supplied with provisions for three weeks. Delightful indeed was the change from actual starvation to the abundance we now enjoyed. With right good-will did we cheer the fleet which had so amply relieved our distress as we parted from them and made sail once more for Jamaica.

The following day, the 6th of August, we saw the Island of the Grand Caymayne. Here we anchored for a few hours and were then ordered by Captain Parker to proceed direct for Jamaica with despatches for his father. One of the ship’s company was destined never to reach it. The captain of the maintop, a fine active fellow, fell from aloft, and, striking part of the rigging, bounded overboard. The ship was instantly hove-to, a boat was lowered and pulled towards the spot where he fell. Some thought they saw his head floating above the waves. In vain we looked about for him. Either stunned by his fall he sank at once, or a shark, one of those ravenous monsters of the deep, had made him his prey. Poor John Nettlethorp! There were mourning hearts in your quiet home in Devonshire when the ship returned and your fate was told those who had long-expected to see you once again.

On the 19th we reached Port Royal. We found everybody in the greatest excitement making preparations to receive Count D’Estaign, who, with a powerful fleet and army, was hourly expected to make an attack on the island. None of England’s colonies can boast of more loyal and devoted inhabitants than does Jamaica, as they have given abundant proof of on numberless occasions.

“Yes, gentlemen of England, who stay at home at ease,

Ah! little do you think upon the dangers of the seas.”

Little also, say I, do you dream of all the racketing and knocking about your naval defenders have to go through in time of war that you may stay at home at ease!

My journal will give you some idea of what seamen have to endure. In harbour one day, at sea for weeks, then to encounter storms and ship-wrecks, battles and wounds, famine and sickness, extremes of heat and cold, pain and suffering, defeat sometimes and imprisonment, with the many ills which make the heart sick, and when at length we return into port, instead of obtaining rest we have to refit ship, take in stores and provisions, and seldom enjoy a moment of leisure till we are once more ready for sea. I was very far, even in the days of which I speak, of complaining of this. I chose my profession. I loved it. I delighted in action, and all I wish to impress on my readers is the nature and duties of a sailor’s life. Still, had I again to begin my existence in this sublunary world and once more to choose my profession, above all others I would select that of an officer in the glorious navy of old England.

Chapter Eighteen.

Expected attack from Count D’Estaign.—War with Spain.—Expedition against Saint Fernando D’Omoa.—Visit from King of the Mosquito Shore.—Cannonade the town.—Set it on fire.—Storm the town.—Rockets and his two cutlasses.—Gives one to Spaniard to fight with.—Rich galleons captured.—I have command of the Saint Domingo.—Nearly lost.

That summer of 1779 was a busy time for the right loyal and patriotic people of Jamaica, and I believe that even had the Count D’Estaign, with his twenty-six line-of-battle ships and nine or ten thousand troops, made his appearance, he would have found it no easy task to gain a victory.

After our return from our starvation cruise we remained but a day in harbour, and again sailed for Old Harbour with despatches for the Penelope. Having delivered them we were returning when we fell in with a small schooner. She made a signal to us to heave-to, and an officer came on board who brought us the news that war with Spain had broken out, and directed us to go in search of the Penelope and acquaint her with the fact. We overtook her the following day, and of course we all regretted that we had not been aware before of the war, as we had allowed so many Spanish vessels to pass us which, had we captured, would have proved rich prizes.

Once more we got back to Port Royal, and had to go alongside the wharf to heave down and repair the ship. Sir Peter had made every preparation to receive the enemy. An advanced squadron was kept cruising off the coast, while the entrance of the harbour was rendered impracticable by strong booms laid across it, and by forts armed with heavy guns on either side.

On the 11th, however, notice was brought us that Count D’Estaign had sailed for America, where, having been severely handled at the siege of Savannah, he returned to Europe with the greater part of his force, sending some, however, back to the West Indies. They had, however, already done us some mischief by the capture of the Islands of Saint Vincent and Grenada, with other places of less importance, while they had also made not a few prizes on their voyage.

Sir Peter Parker was now designing an attack on the fort of Saint Fernando D’Omoa. He had been informed that the Spaniards had threatened to attack the bay-men on the Mosquito shore and Bay of Honduras, and that they had already landed at Saint George’s Quay, which place they had plundered, and treated the inhabitants with the greatest cruelty. To protect this settlement from further insults, the instant she was ready for sea, the Porcupine was directed to take on board Captain-Commandant Dalrymple and a small party of the Loyal Irish, and to proceed to the Black River on the Mosquito shore. We sailed on the 12th of September, but, having carried away our mainmast, we had to return to replace it, so that it was not till the 20th that we could make a fair start. We reached our destination off the mouth of the river on the 27th. This is one of the most dangerous situations in which a ship can bring up, as the bay is completely open to the north, the quarter from which the winds are most prevalent. The only safe proceeding, as the anchorage is none of the best, is at once to run to sea. A bar, on which a tremendous surf breaks, stretches across the mouth of the river, so that, except in calm weather and a slack tide, the landing is dangerous in the extreme. Of this we had a sad proof soon after we arrived there. Everything being made snug, to obtain fresh provisions was our first consideration. For this purpose a boat was despatched under the command of Mr York, a master’s mate, with directions to enter the river and to procure fresh beef and other eatables. All sorts of commissions were likewise given him.

“Give my compliments to King Hodge-podge, and tell him that I’ll knock up his quarters before long,” sang out one of his messmates.

“Take care of those rollers there, Mr York,” I observed. “They are apt to play people a scurvy trick every now and then.”

“Ay, ay, sir,” he answered; and then in a lower tone he added, “I’ve crossed such bars as that fifty times, and I should think I knew by this time how to handle a boat on one of them.”

I pretended not to hear the remark, and the boat pushed off from the ship’s side. Away she pulled towards the bar. I could not help following her with my glass. The bay was calm, but the current was running out strong, and a slow, smooth, rolling swell came in from the offing. The boat glided swiftly on towards the mouth of the river. Just before she reached the bar I had observed two or three rollers break with great fury on it. I called the attention of Captain Packenham and some of my brother-officers to what I had remarked. I fancied that I could see York looking back in triumph, as much as to say, “You see I don’t fear the bar you speak of.” Then on glided the boat. A huge roller rose between us and her so suddenly, it seemed to come from the very depths of the sea. On it went; others followed; but where was the boat? A cry of horror escaped from all those looking on. With my glass I made out through the mass of foam a black object and several smaller ones floating near, but they rapidly disappeared. There could be no doubt that the boat was swamped. The instant this was ascertained the captain ordered all the boats to be lowered that they might go in and endeavour to pick up any of the crew who might be carried out to sea. I went in one of them. Our orders were especially not to venture on the bar. We were not long in reaching the place. We looked eagerly about for any traces of our lost shipmates. Even the boat had been rolled over and over till not a plank remained holding together. An oar came floating out towards us, and as I watched it I saw one end rise up suddenly as if the other had been pulled at violently. We pulled up to it, and as we got near I saw a dark triangular fin gliding away through the blue bright water. I now saw clearly what had been the fate of any of the crew who might have hoped to save themselves by swimming. We returned with sad hearts on board, but sailors cannot mourn long even for their best friends. The fate of those who have been taken may be theirs to-morrow.

A few days after this Captain Packenham invited me to accompany him on shore to pay a visit to the Intendant of Black River. We took care, warned by the accident which I have described, to have a black pilot, and under his guidance we safely crossed the dangerous bar. Once in and able to draw our breaths freely, we were delighted with the beauty of the scenery which on every side met our eyes—woods and green fields, and hills and valleys, diversified the banks of the river, which branched off in different directions, and added much to the picturesqueness of the landscape. From the accounts we received of the barbarities committed by the Spaniards, we longed to meet them, to chastise them as they deserved. They had just before this made an attack on the settlement, where they had destroyed a large amount of property, and carried off a number of prisoners, both men and women, to Merida, the capital of Yucatan. Thence they were afterwards shipped to Havannah, where, if they were no better treated than we were at Saint Domingo, their fate was hard indeed. On the 5th of October we were highly honoured by a visit from his Indian Majesty of the Mosquito shore—King Hoco-poco we used to call him—I forget his name. He came accompanied by a long retinue of princes, generals, and chiefs of all sorts, rejoicing in very curious names, very dark skins, and a very scanty amount of clothing. We received his Majesty with all the honours we were able to pay him, by manning yards and firing a salute of twenty-one guns. We had also a feast spread for his entertainment, with an abundance of liquor, which he seemed to consider much more to the purpose. He and his chiefs indulged very freely in the potent beverages placed before them, and at length they returned on shore, highly delighted with the entertainment, vowing eternal friendship to England, and excessively drunk. The accounts of the atrocities committed by the Spaniards, which we had just received, induced Captains Packenham and Dalrymple to come to the resolution of making an attack on one of their settlements. We accordingly beat up for volunteers, and in a very short time collected a hundred Indians and Black River volunteers, under the command of an Indian general named Tempest. Having embarked our army, we sailed on the 6th of October from the Mosquito shore with light westerly winds. On the next day three strange sail were seen from the mast-head to the northward. They very soon also discovered us, and made all sail in chase.

“Are they friends or foes?” was the question we asked each other.

Captain Packenham was not a man to run away from either one or the other, so we backed our main-topsail, and lay-to for them. We watched them with no little anxiety till they drew near. I forgot to say that my old friend O’Driscoll had joined the ship as a supernumerary, and that I had once more with me my faithful companions in many an adventure, Nol Grampus and Tom Rockets. Nol did not look a day older than when I first came to sea. Rockets was now grown into as stout, active and strong a seaman as any in his Majesty’s service. I could not so often have a yarn with my old followers as I used to when I was a midshipman, but I frequently exchanged words with them, and never failed to take them on any expedition on which I was sent.

“I hopes as how them strangers are friends, old ship,” I heard Tom remark to Grampus. “Three to one is long odds if they ain’t, and I suppose our captain intends to fight, as he don’t seem inclined to run. I only hopes as how he will fight, and sink rather than give in. I’ve no fancy to be made prisoner, and to be kept on short commons among blackamoors, as we was at Ou Trou.”

“No fear, my boy,” answered Grampus. “Our skipper has got some dodge or other in his brain-box, and depend on it he’ll make the ‘Porcupine’ stick up her quills all in good time. You’ll see.”

I could not help telling the captain the opinion the crew formed of him, which was a very just one. Neither he nor I had much doubt that the ships in sight were British. We hoisted British colours, so did they; and in a short time we were all paying compliments to each other, they being his Majesty’s ships Charon, Lowestoffe, and Pomona, under the command of the Honourable Captain Luttrell. He confirmed the account we had received of the attack of the Spaniards on the British territories, and informed us also that he had been in quest of two Spanish galleons which had taken shelter under the strongly-fortified town of San Fernando D’Omoa. He had wished to attack the place, but, it being remarkably strong, he had considered that, with the force under his command, he could scarcely hope for success. Now, however, with the reinforcements we brought him, he considered that he would have a fair chance of taking it.

Having called a council-of-war, all the captains agreed that the exploit might be accomplished. Accordingly, we made sail for the westward. There was a general satisfaction throughout the fleet when it was known that an attack on the fortress was to take place. As with light and variable winds we moved slowly on to the westward, the ships’ companies were employed in making scaling-ladders, fascines, and all the other requisites for a siege. Our whole force consisted of the following ships and vessels:—

Guns.

Men.

Charon

44

300

Lowestoffe

32

220

Pomona

28

200

Porcupine

16

100

Racehorse

8

50

Peggy

6

15

All the above together with 100 Indians and Volunteers, and 12 Loyal Irish—no very mighty armament for the attack of so strong a place. But British sailors hold to the belief that what men dare they can do; so we went on, never doubting of success. We anchored to wood and water at the Bay of Truxillo, and then sailed on, touching at various other places till, on the evening of the 16th, we anchored in Porto Carvalho Bay, not far from the place we had come to attack. Night had set in before we approached the land, so that there was little fear that the enemy would obtain notice of our approach. All of us were in high spirits at the thoughts of fighting the Spaniards, and O’Driscoll and I agreed that it was far better than having to make war on the Americans, whom, rebels as they might be called, we could not help looking on as our brothers and cousins.

All arrangements had in the most judicious way been previously made, so that we were ready, directly the anchors were dropped, about nine o’clock at night, to commence landing our forces. Everything was done with the most perfect order and in complete silence. The boats from all the ships were lowered, and about three hundred seamen and marines, with about a hundred and fifty Indians, volunteers and regulars, were embarked in them. The oars were let fall in the water, and together they pulled in for the shore. I watched the boats as long as they could be seen through the darkness, like some sea-monsters gliding noiselessly towards their prey. O’Driscoll accompanied the shore expedition. On landing, the Indians, who were sent forward, attacked the enemy’s look-out houses, and, having killed a Spaniard and taken two more prisoners, returned in triumph. At midnight the army began their march to the westward, and the ships at the same time weighed and stood along shore. On Sunday morning, the 17th, the ships lay becalmed about a league off shore, when the troops halted to report themselves. No time, however, was lost. They had hoped to have arrived before the place just at daybreak, when they would certainly have surprised it, and even now it was hoped that the enemy would not have heard of their approach. On the summit of a high hill, overlooking the fortress, stands the governor’s house—a very important post. Towards it they hurried, and before ten o’clock reached its base. Up the hill like a swarm of ants they rushed, and in spite of all opposition quickly carried it. The garrison were now, of course, on the alert to receive us. It was not, however, till three in the afternoon that the wind allowed us to stand into the harbour, when we made the signal to the forces on shore that we were ready to co-operate with them. As we took up our stations, directly opposite the town, we commenced a heavy cannonade, which was warmly returned by the enemy from a battery of between twenty and thirty heavy guns. In a short time the effect, of our fire was very visible. Flames burst forth from different parts of the town, which was soon burning furiously in every quarter, and it seemed to us very evident that it would soon be entirely burnt to the ground. As the unfortunate inhabitants were afraid of leaving the town, for fear of falling into the hands of the Indians, from whom they could expect no quarter, many of them, we had too much reason to believe, were burnt to death.

During the heat of the engagement the Lowestoffe, in her eagerness to get close up to the fort, ran on shore, and was considerably galled while she remained there by the enemy’s fire. The rest of the squadron lending her assistance, she soon got off. All the ships were, however, much cut up both in spars and rigging, while a considerable number of men had been killed and wounded. The commander, in consequence, finding that we had produced no impression on the enemy’s works, threw out a signal for the ships to haul off for the night. As we sailed out of the harbour, the Spaniards, fancying that we were about to abandon the enterprise, made a sortie, and furiously attacked the forces on shore. They were, however, repulsed with much loss, and again took shelter within their works. At night a lieutenant was sent in command of a hundred men, to try and open a communication with the forces on shore, but the enemy were too much on the alert to render the attempt practicable.

We were under no little apprehension all the time as to the fate of the forces on shore, for we could see that a furious attack was being made by the Spaniards on Governor’s Hill, and its result it was impossible to ascertain. At daylight we once more stood in, when we had the satisfaction to discover that our forces still held Governor’s Hill, and had thrown up works on it from which they were bombarding the town. As the wind would not allow us to get in close to the forts, we hove-to main-topsails to the masts, and employed ourselves in firing random shots at the enemy’s works while the Lowestoffe repaired damages. At five in the afternoon, seeing a British Union Jack flying close to the woods at the water’s edge, the Porcupine was directed to run in and land her guns. This was done under a heavy fire from the fort. I was among those sent on shore, and I was ordered to take fifty men under my command, and with four guns to lead them up through the town of Omoa to the top of an exceedingly high hill on the other side of it. The enterprise was of no slight danger and difficulty, but it pleased me the more. I had Grampus and Rockets with me. Placing our guns on light carriages between us, away we rattled as fast as our legs could move. The faster our speed, the greater would be our safety. Where we were going the enemy could not guess; they never thought that we were about to scale the rocky height before us; they did not know what tricks blue-jackets could play on shore. They kept peppering away at us as we proceeded, and now and then one of my men was hit; one poor fellow was killed, three were wounded. A fine fellow, Jackson, who was near me as we dashed through the town, caught sight of a dog running through the streets, evidently having lost his master.

“I’ll have that ’ere animal,” he exclaimed, springing on towards him.

The dog turned tail and ran off, but Jack was too nimble for him, and catching him up under his arm, and holding his head so that he could not bite, he was bringing the animal in triumph when a shot struck him on the arm. He staggered on notwithstanding.

“Jackson, my man, I’m afraid you are badly hurt,” I exclaimed, as I saw the blood streaming down his side.

“Never fear, sir,” he answered, “I’ve got the dog; I wanted him for you. Take him, sir.”

I had a piece of rope in my pocket, which I fastened round the dog’s neck and led him on. Jackson was a severe sufferer, for he lost his arm in consequence of his wound. On we hurried, and, climbing the height, dragged up our guns after us. Before the enemy guessed what we were about, we had them on the top of the hill ready to open on the fort. With the same rapidity we threw up the necessary earthworks and soon began firing away with a right good will down into the fortress. The Spaniards showed us that two could play at the same game. All night long we blazed away, doing no little mischief to the enemy. They, however, in return, dismounted one of our guns. On the morning of the 19th three fresh batteries were opened from our works on Governor’s Hill, and our hopes increased of speedily taking the place.

I enjoyed from my elevated position a full view of the whole surrounding sea and country. Below me was the town, still burning in places and smouldering in others. On one side was Governor’s Hill, with the batteries blazing away at the devoted fort which lay below the town, and was replying from all sides to the fire directed towards it from the land and sea. Now the ships, with the exception of the Porcupine, stood in to attack the fort in more serious earnest. Boats came passing and re-passing to her, and, as I found was the case, as all our guns were on shore, Captain Packenham with the greater part of the ship’s company went on board the other ships to assist in fighting them. The ships stood in very close to the walls of the fort before they dropped their anchors, and then commenced a heavy cannonade, the effects of which soon became apparent by the crumbling away of the works on every side. Night, however, put a stop to the work of destruction. Darkness had just closed in when I received orders to leave my exalted post and to join the party destined to storm the works at daybreak on the following morning. This was just according to my taste. I had never a fancy to know that work was being done and not to be engaged in it.

It was nearly midnight before I joined O’Driscoll and my other friends. I found them sitting round their watch-fires, not so much on account of the cold as to keep off the mosquitoes, and enjoying a good supper, which they ate as they cooked. We had no cloaks, so we sat up all night discussing the probabilities of our success on the morrow. We talked and laughed and joked as if there was nothing particularly serious to be done. Adams, one of our midshipmen, was the merriest of the merry. He above all of us was making light of the difficulties and dangers to be encountered. Towards morning our voices grew lower and lower, and at length no one spoke. I sat also silent, looking up at the dark sky studded with a thousand stars, wondering to which of them I should wing my flight should I lose my life in the coming struggle. I dozed off for a few moments, it seemed to me, and then the drum beat to arms and I sprang to my feet. At the same moment the ships re-commenced their cannonade. Every arrangement had already been made, so that each man of the expedition knew his station. Not an instant, therefore, was lost. We hurried to our ranks. I had a hundred men under me. Of course Grampus and Rockets were among them. Grampus had armed himself with a musket and cutlass, but Rockets had managed to get hold of two cutlasses. I asked him why he had thus encumbered himself.

“Why, sir, you see as how one on ’em may be broken, and then I shall have t’other for fighting with,” he answered with his usual simplicity.

Down the hill we rushed, the marines and Loyal Irish on either flank. Nothing stopped us. It seemed scarcely a minute from the time we were on our feet till we were close under the walls. The fascines were thrown into the ditches, and the ladders being planted against the walls, up we climbed, as O’Driscoll observed, like ants attacking a sugar cask. We had already mounted the walls and were leaping down into the town before the enemy knew what we were about. As soon as they were aroused they made a stout resistance and poured a heavy fire on us. Several men near me were killed or wounded. Poor young Adams was cheering on his party placed under his orders. A bullet struck him. His sword was uplifted, his cheerful voice was still sounding on my ear when I saw him fall over, and before he reached the ground he was dead. Our men poured over the walls, and on we rushed among the buildings in the fortress. We encountered a body of Spaniards led on by an officer who apparently had only that instant been roused out of bed, for he had neither his coat buttoned, a hat on his head, nor a sword in his hand. Another party of men on my left engaged my attention, and I was about to attack them when I saw Tom Rockets rushing towards the unarmed officer. I thought Tom was going to cut down the Spaniard, and so I dare say did the latter, but instead of that I heard him sing out, “Señor Don Officer, you no habby cutlash-o, I’ve got two-o! Take one of mine, old boy; let’s have fair play and no favour. Stand aside, mates, and we’ll have it out like men!”

On this, to the very great astonishment of his enemy, he presented him with one of his cutlasses, and made a sign that he was ready to begin the fight. The Spaniard, however, had no notion of fighting with so generous and brave a fellow. Probably, also, he found the Englishman’s cutlass rather an awkward weapon to use, so he made signs to him to take it back, and that he would yield himself up as a prisoner of war. Tom thereupon took back the cutlass, and, shaking the Spaniard by the hand, assured him that he should be ready to have the matter out, if it so pleased him, as soon as the public fighting was disposed of. So sudden had been our attack, and so unexpected by the Spaniards, that we had even fewer men killed and wounded than on the previous days. The Spanish officer and his men having yielded, I left them under charge of Tom and some of my people, while I pushed on, accompanied by Grampus, towards the summit of the fortress, on which stood a flag-staff with the Spanish flag flying. The Spaniards rallied bravely round it, but, charging them cutlass in hand, with loud huzzas we put them to flight, and very soon Nol Grampus had hauled down their flag and hoisted our own glorious ensign in its stead. It was a signal to the ships to cease their fire, which was becoming somewhat annoying to us as well as to our foes. In a few minutes all the defenders of the fortress were scattered far and wide, or had thrown down their arms and sued for mercy. Thus the important fortress was won. The first thing I did was to look-out for Tom Rockets, whom I found guarding the Spanish officer, and endeavouring to assure him of his friendship and protection. Some of the prisoners were carried on board the ships, others were shut up under a guard in the fortress, and others were allowed to take their departure. Besides two richly-laden galleons and a dhow with dry goods in the harbour, we found in the fort twenty thousand dollars, a vast quantity of quicksilver, three or four hundred slaves who had been lately landed, and were to have been sent into the interior, and sixty thousand pounds’ worth of silk, cables, anchors, and other naval stores,—the whole not being of less value than a million sterling.

On my return on board I acquainted Captain Packenham with Tom Rockets’ gallantry. He was much amused, and at once sent for the brave fellow to come to him on the quarter-deck. Tom approached, hat in hand, looking somewhat sheepish, as if he was afraid of getting scolded for having done something wrong. When, however, the captain praised him for his conduct, he gave a hitch to his trowsers and a twist to his hat, exclaiming—

“It’s all right then, sir? I thought as how perhaps I ought to have knocked the Spanish gentleman over; but you see, sir, I didn’t like to take the life of a man who hadn’t even a cutlash to fight with.”

Captain Packenham assured him that he had done perfectly right, and that he would look after his interests. He spoke to the commodore about him that very afternoon, and it was agreed to give him a boatswain’s warrant; but Tom at once declined the offer, saying that he had only done his duty, and did not want any reward.

After Captain Packenham’s return from the commodore’s ship, he told me that he was going home at once with despatches, and that I was to be removed from the Porcupine into the Charon in order that I might with some of her crew take charge of the Saint Domingo, one of the galleons we had just captured. I had placed under me a mate, three midshipmen, and thirty-six of the best seamen of the Charon, including my two followers, for whom I got leave to accompany me. I had now a new follower, the dog I had captured in the burning town. I gave him the name of Omoa, to which he soon answered and became greatly attached to me. I at once set to work to get the prize ready for sea; but she had much to be done to her, and it was not till the 8th of November that, having scaled guns and bent sails a few days before, I warped out of the harbour, and made sail in company with the other ships of the squadron, leaving the Porcupine and the captured dhow for the defence of the fort.

I must remark that a short time afterwards, the place being attacked by a thousand regular troops, the men we had left there in garrison were compelled to make their escape on board those two vessels. And now commenced one of the most unpleasant and anxious voyages I ever made in my life. I did not think it was to be so at the time, though. On the contrary, I was highly delighted at obtaining the command, when I got on board, and discovered that the galleon was the richest-laden vessel we had captured, and that several thousand pounds would come to my share alone if I succeeded in carrying her safely into port. Not, I must say, that I thought about the money for itself. I never was mercenary. I should have been considered wiser had I been so, but my thoughts instantly flew to Madeline Carlyon. I pictured to myself peace restored between the revolted provinces of America and England, and I, with wealth at my disposal, able to go over and claim with a good grace the hand of the only girl for whom I had ever felt that deep affection which would induce me to marry. She was always in my thoughts, and now that I felt that, with the required wealth within my grasp, there was a possibility of our being united, I began in my imagination to realise the happiness I anticipated. Whatever dangers or difficulties I was in, I always thought of her. She, though far away, spurred me on to exertion. She—in the tempest, on the lee-shore in unknown seas, in darkness and surrounded with rocks and shoals—was ever present, and I believe that, had it not been for her, I should more than once in despair have given up the struggle with the adverse circumstances which well-nigh overwhelmed me.

It was soon seen that the bulky old galleon would not keep way with the men-of-war, so the Lowestoffe took us in tow, not much to the satisfaction of those on board. Thick squally weather with rain came on, and away we went plunging after her. For two days this continued, and during the time I could scarcely ever leave the deck. At last I went below on the night of the 10th, but hardly had I turned in and got my eyes well closed when I was aroused up again by a terrific uproar, and, rushing on deck and hurrying for’ard, I found that the Lowestoffe was taken aback and was making a stern-board right down upon us. Fortunately an axe was at hand. With a couple of strokes I cut the hawser, and, putting up the helm, we were just able to run to leeward out of her way. Soon after this the commodore made the signal to tack, and the wind then shifting and a heavy gale coming on, I lost sight of the squadron. Directly after this I made out the land on the lee bow bearing east-south-east, three or four miles off. Whether I could weather it was the question; but I made all the sail I could venture to carry. I stood as close-hauled as I could, watching with no little anxiety the unwelcome coast. The vessel looked up to the gale in gallant style, and at length I was able to bring-to under my foresail.

Thus I remained all night. At six in the morning made sail under the courses to the north-east, and at eight wore and saw the land bearing south by south, distant five or six leagues. At noon was again obliged to bring-to under the foresail, it blowing hard with a thick fog and squalls.

On the 11th, the wind continuing to blow as hard as before, I saw the island of Rattan. At 5 p.m. I fired six guns as signals for a pilot, but night coming on with the accustomed bad weather, I wore and stood out to sea. The next morning I bore away for Truxillo, on the Spanish main. At 10 a.m., being close in-shore, the wind shifted, and blew a heavy gale with very thick weather, which obliged me to stand to the eastward. At noon, though we lost sight of the land, I found that we were in very shoal water, and as may be supposed I became very anxious when I found that there was no one on board who had ever been there before, or was at all acquainted with the coast. All we knew was that it was considered a very dangerous and difficult one. Since we left Omoa, from not having even seen the sun, I had been unable to take an observation, nor had I any chart of the Gulf of Honduras in the ship. My officers, as were all on board, were as well aware as I was myself of the danger the ship was in, and a bright look-out was kept for the land. At 2 p.m. we made out an island under our lee. I soon saw by the way the ship was setting that we should be unable to weather it. My only resource therefore was to attempt to run between it and the main. I kept the helm up, and stood for the channel. I was under the impression, as were my officers, that it was the island of Bonacca, between which and the main a book of sailing directions we had on board told us there was a passage; but as we neared it the characteristic features which we discovered convinced us that we were mistaken, and that it was the Hogsties. Now we had been assured at Omoa that between it and the main there was no passage. We did not make this discovery, however, before we had stood on too far to return. Our eyes, however, could not deceive us; a passage there certainly was, but whether a shallow or intricate one we could not tell. I kept the lead going and a bright look-out in all directions; still it was work to try any man’s nerves. There was a nasty broken sea running, and I felt sure that if the ship struck on any of the numberless rocks under her bottom, not many minutes would elapse before she must go down. I kept her on, notwithstanding this, under her foresail. We were gradually shoaling our water—sixteen fathom, twelve, ten, six, four had been announced. I drew my breath faster and faster. It was not a moment I should have liked anyone to put a trivial question to me; still I could make out a channel of clear water ahead, and I did not despair.

“By the mark three,” sang out the man in the fore-chains.

Matters were coming to a crisis. If we shoaled the water much more we could not hope to force the heavy galleon through. Not only should we lose all her rich cargo, but our lives also would be sacrificed, for the few boats we had were in so bad a condition that they would scarcely be able to carry even half the people we had on board. For my own part, I did not feel that I had many more hours, or I might say minutes, to live, for I always held to the opinion that a captain should always be the last to leave his ship, and not then till he has seen to the safety of all those entrusted to his care.

On we glided—not very fast though. I stood conning the ship; sometimes we passed so close to shoals and rocks that we could have thrown a biscuit on them, and still the lumbering old Saint Domingo floated free.

At length we were once more in four fathoms of water, then in five; but still I did not feel that we were clear of danger; there might be other reefs running across from the island to the main which might bring us up. I however began to breathe more freely, and the faces of my officers wore a more satisfied expression. Still we had many a turn and twist to make, but with a leading wind we had little difficulty in doing this. “Breakers ahead!” sang out Grampus from forward.

“Starboard the helm,” was my reply.

“Starboard it is,” cried the man at the wheel.

“Breakers on the larboard bow!”

“Port the helm.”

“Port it is,” was heard along the deck, and so we glided by danger after danger till all were passed, and I breathed freely at finding the ship at length clear of the island. I then once more hauled in for the land to try and ascertain our situation; but the weather came on so thick again with heavy squalls that I was compelled very soon to stand off once more, still ignorant of where we were.

My difficulties were not over. At 5 p.m. the mizen-yard was carried away in a heavy squall, though happily no lives were lost by the accident. While we were endeavouring to repair the damage it fell a stark calm, and the old galleon began to roll away awfully in the swell. I at once ordered the lead to be hove, for I knew that there were treacherous currents hereabouts.

I had soon proof of this. The first cast gave us thirteen fathoms; very soon we had ten, eight, and so on, till we shoaled the water to five fathoms. I guessed that we should very soon be on shore if this continued, so I saw that I must resort to the only alternative of anchoring, a dangerous proceeding in the uncertain weather we were having. Still I held on as long as I could, and hoped for a slant of wind to enable me to beat off. My hopes were in vain. It was near midnight, when a heavier gust than we had yet had struck the ship, and soon the man with the lead gave notice that we had shoaled our water to three fathoms. Not a moment was to be lost, so I gave orders to clew up all our canvas and to let go the best bow anchor. This was done without delay. Our cable held on, but I soon discovered that a strong current was setting past us to the east-south-east, at the rate of three knots an hour, which, should our anchor not hold, would very soon send us on shore.

I at last began to feel as if my anxiety would break me down, as all the dangers with which we were surrounded were brought to my thoughts. We had a dark night, a heavy gale of wind, a lee-shore, a strong current, untried and probably not over-good ground tackle, and a great uncertainty as to our position. Added to this, I had under my command a vessel worth four hundred thousand pounds, and between thirty and forty lives entrusted to my care. Our anchor held, but not without dragging slightly. Anxiously I walked the deck and waited for break of day. I thought it would never come. It did at last, however, and revealed a sight sufficient to make the stoutest heart quake. Scarcely more than a cable’s length from the ship appeared a ledge of rocks over which the waves were washing with sullen roars, while the log hove overboard showed me that there was a strong current setting towards a high rocky bluff land dead to leeward of us. Towards it the ship was surely though slowly dragging her anchor. One thing only could save us. We must without delay get sail on her. We tried to weigh the anchor, but soon abandoned the attempt as hopeless. I called the officers round me, in a few words explained our position, then sent every man to his station. Nol Grampus stood, axe in hand, ready to cut the cable as I gave the word. Two good hands were at the helm. The men were aloft, ready to loose sails. I waited till the ship’s head tended off the land, then at a wave of my hand the sails were let fall and sheeted home, down came old Nol’s gleaming axe, the end of the cable disappeared through the hawse-hole, the sails filled, and away glided the big ship from the threatening rocks. Still she was not free from danger. I held my breath, as did every seaman on board, as we gazed at the bluff land it was necessary to weather. The current set strongly towards it, a shift of wind might yet cast away the ship. Down she seemed settling towards it. We were doing our utmost to avoid the danger; we could not carry more sail, the ship was kept as close as possible to the wind. Still we had already escaped so many dangers before that I hoped we might this. Higher grew the land frowning above us, nearer appeared the breakers. In ten minutes I saw that our fate would be decided. The wind remained steady. None of our gear gave way. The surf broke under our lee as we glided by; we were safe; and once more reducing sail we stood out to sea. We, however, were still in far from a pleasant position, or rather, we could not tell in what position we were, and had every reason to believe it a bad one. Various were the opinions broached on board as to our whereabouts. Some thought we were in the Bay of Dulce; others that the point we had just weathered was Point Manwick; while the Spanish prisoners affirmed that we were certainly down in the bottom of the Gulf of Honduras. I could scarcely believe that the currents and gales we had encountered, strong as they were, could in so short a time have drifted us so far out of our course. As the day drew on the weather moderated, and the mists clearing away, we found ourselves surrounded by a number of rocks and islands. The Spaniards nodded their heads and affirmed that they were right in their assertions. Fortunately the sun came out to settle the question. I was able to take two altitudes, and found that we were abreast of the Island of Rattan. Not long after this I got a sight of Truxillo Bay, the place the commodore had appointed for the rendezvous. I accordingly ran in and anchored there at six o’clock, hoping to find the rest of the squadron in the place, but, much to my disappointment and surprise, not another ship was to be seen. This being the case, I had to examine my officers, to ascertain what I was next to do. Much to my satisfaction I found that I was forthwith to proceed home to Falmouth, and, having reported my arrival to the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, to await their further orders. In consequence of this I immediately proceeded to wood and water the ship. This was a long and tedious operation, for having lost all our boats one after the other in the gale, I was obliged to employ a couple of very frail canoes. I persevered, however, and by working hard managed to make progress in the task. While some of the crew were on shore cutting wood and filling the casks, others were employed in towing them off in the canoes, which were likewise laden with wood. Though I worked myself, for the purpose of setting an example, I found time to make an excursion or two a little way into the interior. I was accompanied by Martin, one of my master’s mates, and a great friend of mine. We took our guns with us and my dog Omoa, who had now become much attached to me. The shores of this bay of Truxillo are wild and desolate in the extreme. Nature here revels in perfect freedom, and gigantic trees of all sorts tower up on every side. It is a long way from any inhabited place; I had heard, however, that the Spaniards once had a settlement here of considerable size, but it having been attacked by the buccaneers and Indians, about a hundred years ago, they were compelled entirely to abandon it; since which time nature had resumed her original sway over the territory, and as we wandered through the forest not a sign of human life or human industry did we for a long time perceive. At length, however, landing one day at a different part of the bay to that which we had before explored, about a quarter of a mile from the beach, we came suddenly upon a high-built wall. A little farther on we found ourselves walking over what had evidently been a paved street of great length and breadth. In another minute we found ourselves with the walls of houses on either side of us, the vast trees growing out from among them and forming a sheltering roof with their boughs, showing for how long a period they must have been deserted. There were churches too, which we discovered to be such by their construction and the massiveness of their walls; many of them of considerable size, and built of well-burnt bricks. Altogether we were struck by the elegance and substantial appearance of the different buildings, so superior to those of modern architecture, and which convinced us that we were standing in the midst of a once magnificent and wealthy city. Its wealth had proved its destruction, and now, like many of the cities of the ancient world, it had become the habitation alone of the wild beast of the forest, the birds of the air, and the reptiles which creep on the earth. I cannot properly describe my sensations as I stood in the midst of that abandoned city; the scene was so unusual and curious, there was so much beauty and elegance even in the masses of ruins, and still more in the trees and shrubs which had taken possession of these walls, once the abodes of men engaged in all the active pursuits of life. I could not help picturing to myself what it must have been like; what scenes were going on within it, such as are enacted in most cities in the present day, when sudden destruction overtook it. I learned a lesson, I drew a moral, and I received a warning from the fate it told, from which I trust my readers will profit likewise.

Chapter Nineteen.

Visit ruins of Truxillo.—The commodore receives me and my galleon with joy.—Fearful sickness on board squadron.—The Island of Rattan.—Capsized in a squall.—Ship rights.—Beat off a privateer.—Reach Jamaica.—The Saint Domingo condemned, and cargo placed on board the rotten Leviathan.—Rejoin the Charon.—Sail with convoy.—Piratical exploits.—Sinking of Leviathan, and my hopes of prize-money lost.—Reach the Downs, and start for Falmouth.

Whenever the duties of the ship would allow me to go on shore, I repaired to the ruins of Truxillo, for I was never weary of wandering among its deserted streets and exploring its shattered edifices. Meantime the repairs of the ship went on as expeditiously as possible, and by the 16th of November we had set up our rigging, got all the wood and water we could stowaway on board, and made every other requisite preparation for encountering a winter passage to England. I had arranged to sail the next day, when at noon it was reported to me that a brig was seen standing into the bay.

“Make the signal for the people to hurry on board,” was my reply as I went on deck.

Having examined the stranger through the glass, I thought she looked suspicious, so I hoisted the private signal and waited with some little anxiety to ascertain if it was answered. The fact that we had got possession of the Saint Domingo, with all her wealth on board, would be known to the Spaniards, and if they should discover that she was separated from the rest of the fleet, they would very naturally send in quest of her. The signal was not answered. “My lads, I suspect we shall have a fight for it,” I sung out, as I gave the order to prepare for action, resolved to put the ship in as good a state of defence as circumstances would allow. The ship was armed with sixteen four-pounders, and four six-pounders, besides swivels and cohorns. I first got springs on my cables, so as to have complete command over the ship, and as I had not men sufficient to fight all the guns, I ran them all over on one side, in order to make the first broadside as formidable as possible. I hoped thus to sink or disable our antagonist, or to make her sheer off. Should she, however, venture to board, I had no fear, as I felt certain that my men would not fear to encounter twice their number. They were full of fight, and the way they went about their preparations gave me every confidence that we should succeed. The brig approached us with a great deal of caution. If we did not like her looks, she evidently did not like ours. I knew that it would be best to show I was ready for her, so as soon as she was within range of my guns I hoisted my colours and fired a shot ahead of her. The next was a moment of suspense, and I believe my people were not a little disappointed when she hoisted an English ensign and fired a gun to leeward. Having sailed close past us and hailed, she brought up at a short distance from me. She then lowered a boat, and Lieutenant Butcher, whom I had before met, came on board, and informed me that the commodore had hired the brig and sent him in charge of her to look-out for the Saint Domingo, which he had heard had been lost on the Solomadinas, the most dangerous rocks on the coast.

“A ship we spoke informed us that you had been seen to go on shore, and we hoped that though the galleon might be lost, we might save some of your lives,” he added; “however, I am heartily glad to find you all alive and the old craft afloat.”

“Not more glad than I am, that we have escaped all the dangers we have encountered,” I replied, and I told him of all the narrow escapes we had had.

He then informed me that the Charon and Lowestoffe had several times nearly been lost, and were now at Port Royal Harbour, in the Island of Rattan.

To that place I found that I was at once to proceed. I will not describe all the incidents which occurred before I got there. I must try and hurry on with my adventures, or I shall never bring them to an end.

By the 19th I got off the harbour, and, making a signal for assistance, some boats came out to help tow me in, and by six o’clock I was safely moored under the guns of the squadron. The commodore was delighted to see me. I did not flatter myself so much because of my own merits, as on account of the richly-freighted old galleon. However, I was not addicted to trouble myself as to the cause of any attention I might receive, or any compliments which might be paid me; but I always received them with a good grace, as if they were invariably due to my own especial merits. The commodore told me that he should at once send me on to Jamaica, under convoy of the Lowestoffe, and gave me directions to get ready again for sea. I had a number of visitors on board, who came to congratulate me on my escape, and to have a look at the galleon, which was much such a craft as some of the followers of Columbus might have sailed in to conquer the New World. I found the squadron in a very sickly state. No less than two-thirds of the crews were living on shore in huts and tents, suffering from sickness, and since the time they had left Omoa they had buried upwards of a hundred men, the master of the Lowestoffe being among them. Altogether I know in a very short time they lost one hundred and twenty men—while I had not lost one on board the galleon. Rattan itself was not supposed to be unhealthy, but at this time there were no inhabitants on it. When the war broke out with Spain, one of her first acts was to attack our settlements on the coast of Honduras, and totally to put a stop to our logwood trade. The merchants and traders connected with that business accordingly earnestly solicited the commodore to take possession of the Island of Rattan, which is admirably placed to guard the entrance to the Gulf of Honduras. It had belonged to the English in the late war, but by the treaty of peace made at its termination it was restored to the Spaniards, or rather abandoned, and all the works on it had been destroyed. In consequence, however, of the requisition of the merchants which I have spoken of, the commodore, on the 25th of November, 1779, again took possession of it in the name of his Britannic Majesty, and immediately set to work to put the place in as good a state of defence as circumstances would allow. A number of logwood cutters and other settlers, as well as some merchants and traders, had already arrived there. These were at once regularly drilled and taught the use of their arms. Each of the ships of the squadron also launched two of their guns, which we mounted on the works for the defence of the harbour, while they were furnished likewise with an abundant supply of ammunition and stores of all sorts. The harbour of Port Royal is, without doubt, as good a one as any in the West Indies, and so well formed is it by nature for defence, that with a small amount of art employed on it, I should think that it might be made perfectly impregnable from any attack by sea. At the time of which I speak the island was entirely uncultivated, and produced only the trees and shrubs nature had planted there; but from what I saw of the soil and from what others who knew more about agricultural affairs than I did, I had no doubt that in a few years it would become a very flourishing spot, and amply repay the planters who might settle on it. Just now it was serving as the burial-place of many poor fellows, who were carried off day after day by the malignant fever which had got among them. It was sad to go on shore to visit the sick and dying, and all the time to feel that one could be of no use to them. I had seen a good deal of that sort of thing lately, but it had not hardened my heart. At last I scarcely went on shore at all. Nothing I found so depressing to my spirits as to see the long rows of graves beneath which so many of my poor countrymen were sleeping, and still more to see them day by day increasing in number.

While I was getting ready for sea, the Charon, having taken on board the whole cargo of the Saint Joseph galleon, sailed with the purpose of proceeding at once to England, leaving the Pomona at Rattan, to bring off the sick as soon as it was deemed practicable and safe to remove them.

On the 26th of November, having taken leave of the commodore and saluted him with three hearty cheers, such as he well deserved, and having on board several passengers, some of whom were taken prisoners at Omoa, I put to sea in company with the Lowestoffe. Scarcely had I done breakfast next morning, and was congratulating myself on having a pleasant run to Jamaica, when Nol Grampus entered my cabin with the pleasing intelligence that the Saint Domingo had sprung a leak. “Allowing to her being manned by heretics, as the Spaniards would say,” I exclaimed petulantly as I hurried out, and with the carpenter endeavoured to ascertain where the injury was to be found. At the same time I set both the pumps going; but do all we could, we could not keep the leak under. At length I most unwillingly gave orders to hoist the signal of distress. As soon as it was seen on board the Lowestoffe her boats were sent to my assistance.

On inquiring among the Spanish prisoners I found from them that she had been struck by lightning in the harbour of Omoa, and had been injured in some place aft. On examining I discovered the injury to exist under the larboard counter, and having got some lead nailed on over the leak, I soon had the pleasure of seeing the water sensibly decrease. One danger over, it was not long before I had to encounter another of a still more serious nature, and I had great reason to fear that after all I had gone through I should still not succeed in carrying my prize into port. Had I been followed by the curse of some revengeful old witch I could scarcely have been compelled to encounter more difficulties and mishaps; such a witch as Shakespeare describes as sailing in a sieve, and like a rat without a tail doing something dreadful.

On the 29th the wind was favourable and light, and the big galleon was gliding swiftly over a smooth, laughing sea, when, the decks having been washed down, I was taking a turn, as was my custom before breakfast, with Martin.

“Fine weather, sir,” he remarked. “After all our mishaps there seems a fair prospect of our getting into port in safety.”

“There’s many a slip between the cup and the lip, and for my part I never again will make sure of a thing till I have got it in my hand, and then I should look very sharp that it does not jump out again,” was my answer, for I was, I own, beginning to be discontented with sublunary affairs in general.

“Oh, no fear now, I think, but what we shall get the rich old galleon safe into port at last, and some day touch the prize-money she will bring us,” remarked Martin, rubbing his hands at the thought of the wealth he was about to obtain, and the way in which he would very soon manage to get through it.

“Breakfast ready, sir,” said Tom Rockets, coming up to me and touching his cap. He was doing the duty of Jenker, my steward, who had broken his leg in one of the many gales we had encountered.

I invited Martin to breakfast with me. When we left the deck the wind was light and the sky had scarcely a cloud floating on it to dim its splendour. We had finished a plate of scraped salt beef, and had begun upon a salt herring, (what would I not have given for a fresh, juicy mutton chop!) I had just taken a cup of coffee and Martin was helping himself, holding up the coffee-pot, when I saw it and him and the breakfast-things gliding away to leeward, and felt myself following them. There was a terrific roaring sound and a loud rush of waters almost overwhelming the shouts and cries of the people on deck. Over went everything in a confused mass. I rushed out of the cabin, followed by Martin, to ascertain what had occurred, though I had no doubt about the matter. The ship had overset in one of the sudden squalls to which these seas are liable. There she lay like a log, with her sails almost in the water. She appeared to me to be going lower and lower every instant. Nothing could exceed the confusion the deck presented. The crew were rushing about and letting go any ropes they could lay hands on, in accordance with the orders of the officer of the watch to take in sail. The lady passengers were shrieking out for help as they paddled about to leeward, and the men were in vain endeavouring to afford it, shouting and striking out in the water and endeavouring to climb up towards the weather bulwarks.

“There go all our hopes of wealth,” I thought to myself as I saw the condition of the ship. Strange that that should be the first idea which came into my head. I did not think that the ship would swim many minutes longer. I looked out for the Lowestoffe. She was not far-off, and was lowering her boats, to come to our assistance. Only one chance of saving the ship remained. We must cut away the masts. I gave the necessary order. While some of the crew set to work on the rigging with their knives, I sung out for an axe. One had fallen overboard the day before. Another was not to be found.

“Can no one find an axe?” I sung out, not a little enraged. “Bear a hand, then.”

Rockets was searching in one direction, Nol Grampus in others, with several of the rest of the men, while I felt almost frantic, expecting the ship to fill and go down every instant. The officers were hurrying about for the same object. Were the ship to go down, I felt many lives might be lost, for the frigate’s boats could scarcely save all hands with the passengers. The confusion and noise was increased, it must be remembered, by the roaring of the wind and the dashing of the seas over us.

At last Grampus appeared with a couple of axes. I seized one and sprung to the mainmast. He rushed forward. I had lifted up my gleaming weapon, and was about to give the fatal stroke, when there was a sudden lull of the wind, and the stout old galleon, no longer feeling its pressure, sprang up and righted herself in an instant, sending a dozen of the crew across the deck and all the passengers spinning about in every direction. Except a little of the standing rigging cut, a few shins broken, and a complete ducking received by all the passengers, no damage had occurred. We soon got the lady passengers put to rights, and seated on the hencoops, where they had been taking their breakfast, the coffee-cups picked up, the men restored to their legs, and their cigars re-lighted, and everything in its proper place, while the boats which had been coming to our help returned to their frigate.

“All’s well that ends well,” was Martin’s observation when we again sat down to a fresh supply of coffee, red herrings, and biscuits.

Nothing else occurred till the 5th of December, when one of the Spanish prisoners was found dead in his bed in the gun-room.

On the 8th we made Jamaica, but were beating away under the south-west end of the island, till the 15th, when I carried away my fore-topsail-yard, and had to put into Bluefields Bay to repair the loss.

On the 16th we sailed again with the Lowestoffe. In the evening, as we were pretty close in with the shore, the Lowestoffe signalised that a suspicious schooner was in sight and made sail in chase. Scarcely had we sunk her courses below the horizon when another vessel appeared from under the land, standing towards us. She was also a schooner, and we were not long in making up our minds that she was an enemy’s privateer. I did not fear her though. We loaded and ran out all our guns and prepared for the encounter. I knew that my men would not yield while the galleon kept afloat, and so I did not watch the Lowestoffe’s departure with so much anxiety as I might otherwise have done. Tom Rockets and others were tightening in their waist-bands, fastening handkerchiefs round their heads, feeling the edges of their cutlasses, and making all the other usual preparations for a fight.

The stranger came on boldly towards us. I had no doubt of the character of the schooner, but as she sailed two knots to our one there was no use in attempting to try and escape her. It was not long before she got within gun-shot and exhibited her true character by running up the Spanish ensign and by firing one of her bow-chasers at us. As our guns would not carry so far as hers I let her come on considerably nearer before I returned the compliment. The privateer, thinking that they were going to make an easy victory of us, fired again, but the shot, as had the first, flew wide of us. I saw that my people were impatient to fire in return.

“Hold fast, my lads,” I cried out. “Let her come on a little nearer, and we’ll show her that she has caught a Tartar for once in a way.”

I waited for another ten minutes, but as I saw the way in which the well-armed daring little craft approached us I could not help thinking to myself, “I wonder whether this will be another slip between the cup and the lip.” I, of course, did not show what I thought. I now judged that we had got her well within range of all our guns. Again she fired, and the shot flew through our rigging.

“Now give it her, my lads,” I sung out. “Blaze away!”

The men were not slow to obey the order. Our broadside told with fearful effect. Many of our shot tore along her decks, killing and wounding a considerable number of her crew. Notwithstanding this the schooner stood after us. From the spirited way in which she came on I thought that she must be American, and, knowing the rich prize we should prove, had determined at all risks to get hold of us. She only carried six guns, but they were heavier than ours, and while her crew were amply strong to man them, mine could not fight more than half the guns we had. The contest, therefore, was much more equal than at first appeared to be the case. Still I had not much fear as to the results, especially if the privateer really was Spanish, for however bravely or furiously Spaniards come on, and however much bravado they make, I have always found that they never can withstand English pluck and determination. As soon as we had fired our first broadside we loaded again as fast as we could, while the schooner gave us the contents of her three guns from one side, and was about to keep away and run under our stern to fire the three on the other—the first having done us no little damage, wounded one of our masts, and cut a poor fellow almost in two—but just as she was on the point of firing we let fly four or five of our after guns right down upon her, and one of the shot striking the helmsman, knocked him over, and before another man could take his place the schooner had flown up again into the wind. Her starboard broadside not being loaded, we were able to give her another dose before she was ready to fire, and in the meantime the report of the guns being heard on board the Lowestoffe, she was seen standing towards us under all sail.

The privateer had now had quite sufficient taste of our quality, and greatly to my vexation and to that, I believe, of everyone on board, she hauled her wind and stood away from us on a bow-line, a point of sailing on which we had no chance of overtaking her. We gave her, however, a parting salute and three cheers and many a hearty wish that she had stopped to receive the thrashing we all felt confident we should have bestowed on her.

The Lowestoffe soon came up and chased her for a few miles, having in the course of it recaptured a prize which the privateer had just before taken. Had not the captain of the Lowestoffe been apprehensive that some more of these privateering gentlemen might try to get hold of my tenderly-loved galleon, he would probably have continued the chase and captured the schooner herself, but remembering that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, he wisely would not allow himself to be tempted on, but returned to keep ward and watch over me.

“You said, sir, that there was many a slip between the cup and the lip,” observed Martin, as on the morning of the 18th December, 1779, we sighted the entrance to Port Royal Harbour, Jamaica, and with a fair breeze stood into it with our rich prize, followed closely by our faithful guardian the Lowestoffe.

“Yes, my boy, but we have not touched the rhino yet, and even then it may be long before the sweets reach our mouth,” was my answer. “So I have always found it to be, and so I always expect to find it. These bales of indigo which are said to be worth so much, are rather cumbersome articles to put into our pockets and walk off with. The ship has to cross the Atlantic and the cash has to pass through the hands of merchants, and brokers, and prize-agents before we touch it.”

I little thought at the time how necessary my warning was, and how well it was not to reckon too much on the riches which might so easily take to themselves wings and flee away. Still, as I have before said, I could not help believing that I should some day or other possess the portion which was my due; and over and over again I conjured up the delightful picture when I should find myself once more in America, no longer as an enemy to her sons, but as the affianced husband of Madeline Carlyon and the friend and companion of her kindred and people.

In high spirits, therefore, and with no small amount of pride in my heart, I sailed up the harbour and saluted Sir Peter Parker with thirteen guns, which compliment he returned with eleven. After this expenditure of gunpowder I hurried up to pay my respects to him, and was received with all his usual kindness and urbanity. To my astonishment, and somewhat, I own, to my disappointment, I found my own ship, the Charon, at anchor among the rest of the fleet. I thought that she had long ago sailed for England. On going on board I soon was made acquainted with the cause of her return. On her passage through the Gulf of Florida she had spoken HMS Salisbury, from which ship Captain Luttrell gained the information that many very disparaging reports reflecting on his honour were circulating in Jamaica respecting his conduct at the taking of Omoa. This made him at once resolve to return to the island, to vindicate his character. He immediately demanded a Court of Inquiry, which was held on board the Niger, when he was honourably acquitted of one and all the malicious charges alleged against him. Officers, especially in the navy, would always do well to imitate the commodore’s conduct in this particular. All men may have dirt thrown at them, but the honourable man will never allow it to remain a moment longer than can be avoided, lest it should leave a stain behind.

Captain Luttrell’s return to Jamaica had a considerable influence on my fortunes. I was in high feather at having so far escaped all the dangers of the voyage with the old Galleon, and was making every preparation to fit her yet further for encountering the passage in mid-winter across the Atlantic. During this period I had not altogether an unpleasant time of it, for the merchants and planters of Kingston were proverbially hospitable, and I had many friends among them, so that every moment I could spare from my duties on board ship was occupied in receiving the attentions and civilities they showered on me. This was all very agreeable. I made haste to enjoy the moments as they passed, for I expected to be at sea and far away in a very few days. My pleasure was, however, of shorter duration even than I anticipated. I met O’Driscoll one day, who had just come from the admiral.

“I say, Hurry, my boy,” he began; “do you know what they talk of doing with your old galleon?”

“Send her to sea at once, before her repairs are finished,” I answered. “It’s the way they too often do things.”

“Not a bit of it,” he replied. “They say that she is not fit to go to sea, so they propose transferring her cargo to the old ‘Leviathan,’ which to my certain knowledge is very much out of repair, and sending her home with it.”

“Some abominable job!” I exclaimed, stamping with rage. “It’s too bad, after all I have gone through, to deprive me of the credit I ought to have gained. I won’t believe it.”

I soon found, however, that O’Driscoll’s account was too true. A survey was held on the Saint Domingo, and she was condemned as unfit to proceed on her voyage to England. Her cargo, consisting of twelve hundred and thirty-two saroons of indigo, and a large quantity of sarsaparilla and hides, was put on board HMS Leviathan, and her captain was to have three thousand pounds freight. I protested as loudly as I could against this decision. I asserted that the Saint Domingo was far more calculated to take home so valuable and bulky a cargo than the Leviathan, or any other man-of-war, and I undertook, with twenty of my people, who had been in her already for three months, to carry her across the Atlantic in safety. All I could say was of no avail. Not only I, but many other officers said the same thing. The affair was decided against us, and I saw, with no small regret, the whole of the Saint Domingo’s cargo transferred to the rotten old Leviathan.

On the 16th of January, 1780, having given up the hull of the Saint Domingo to our agent at Jamaica, I joined the Charon, with my two followers, for the first time since my appointment to her. On the next day we sailed from Port Royal, in company with his Majesty’s ships Ruby, Lyon, Bristol, Leviathan, Salisbury, James, Resource, Lowestoffe, Pallas, Galatrea, Delight, and about ninety sail of merchant vessels. Except the capture of a Spanish privateer, and a vessel laden with mahogany, nothing particular occurred till the 9th of February, in latitude 29 degrees north, and longitude 72 degrees west, when the admiral and his squadron put about to return to Jamaica, leaving us and the Leviathan in charge of the convoy, to pursue our way to England.

We had hard work enough in keeping our convoy together, and in whipping up the laggards. In spite of the danger they ran of being picked up by privateers, some were continually getting out of the order of sailing. The Leviathan kept ahead, and led as well as she could, while we did the duty of huntsman, or of whipper-in. One night when it was my watch on deck, as I was keeping a bright look-out in all directions, I saw the flash of a gun on our lee quarter, and the sound directly after reached my ears. It was, it struck me, from a petronel, or some small piece of ordnance such as merchantmen carried in those days. I reported the circumstance to Captain Luttrell, who ordered me at once to make sail in that direction. One or two other shots followed, and I could just discern the flashes of pistols, though the reports did not reach our ears. The night was very dark, but we were able to steer clear of some of the convoy, which had been near us on our lee quarter. I had carefully taken the bearings of the spot where I had seen the flashes. We were not long in getting up to it. There was a large barque under sail, steering somewhat wildly, but still keeping after the fleet. We hailed as we got close to her, but received no answer. A second time we hailed, still louder, but there was no reply. We then fired a shot across her bows, but she stood on as before. On this the captain directed me to take a boat and board her. There was not much sea, but in the wild way in which she was steering about, and in the extreme darkness, this would, I knew, be no very easy matter. However, singing out for volunteers, I soon had eight good hands to man a boat, and away we pulled towards the barque. As we got near I again hailed. As before, there was no reply. At last, watching the proper moment, I pulled in towards her, and hooked on to her mizen-chains. We soon, with lanterns in hand, scrambled on board. As I was hurrying along the deck, I stepped on some substance which very nearly made me measure my length on it. I called to Tom Rockets, who was of course near me, to throw the light of his lantern on the spot. It was blood. There could be no doubt of it. The deck in several places was moist with the same, but yet no one had we seen. Aft there was no one. The helm was lashed amidships, and the ship was left to steer herself. Ordering a hand to the wheel, to keep her close after the Charon, I again traversed the deck to examine her forward. On my way I stumbled over two human forms. The light of the lantern, which fell on their countenances, showed me that they were not Englishmen—dark-bearded, swarthy fellows, dressed in true buccaneer style. I had little doubt that they were pirates, or belonging to the crew of one of the Spanish privateers, most of which deserved no better character. Farther on were two or three English seamen, so they seemed. Here evidently had been a desperate fight, but it was too clear which party had gained the victory. Two other bodies were found locked in a deadly embrace—an English seaman and a Spaniard. One had been endeavouring to force the other overboard. The Spaniard’s knife was sticking in the Englishman’s throat, but the latter had not died till he had strangled his antagonist. A few moments sufficed to reveal this tale of horror. I looked out to endeavour to discern the pirate. I fancied that I could make out the sails of a fore and aft vessel to leeward, but when I looked again I could see nothing of them. I had now to examine the vessel below. I went aft into the cabin. There also had been a desperate struggle. The master apparently had been surprised in his cot, and lay half out of it, stabbed to the heart. Several passengers had sprung out of their berths, it seemed, and been shot or stabbed before they could reach the door of the cabin. The mate, I judged, and two other men, lay in a pool of blood just inside the door. They had retreated there, fighting for their lives. The table and chairs were upset and broken. One of the pirates had fallen, and so hurried had been the retreat of his companions that they had been unable to carry him off. He still breathed when I threw the light of the lantern on his face, but the moment he was moved he fell back and, with a deep groan, died. I marched through the whole of the vessel; not a living soul was found on board. On returning on deck, I again looked out for the pirate—not that I had much hopes of seeing her. All appeared dark to leeward, the Charon’s stern lanterns only being visible just ahead of me. As I was peering into the gloom, suddenly a bright light burst forth, as it seemed, out of the ocean. Up it rose, increasing in size, a vast mass of flame into the air. I could distinguish, with the greatest clearness, the masts and spars and canvas of a schooner, lifting upwards high above the surface of the dark sea. Then they seemed to separate into a thousand fragments, and to fall down in showers of sparks on every side. For a moment I was in doubt whether what I saw was a reality or some hallucination of the mind, such as the imagination of a sleeper conjures up, but from the exclamations I heard around me I was soon convinced that the pirate crew who had effected all the mischief we had witnessed had met with a sudden and just retribution for their crimes, and that they and their vessel had been blown up.

The next morning a midshipman and ten men were sent to relieve me, and to take charge of the barque, which proved to be a vessel bound for Bristol. Sad was the tale she would have to convey to the wives and families of her officers and crew. On the 20th a signal of distress was seen flying on board one of our convoy. A couple of boats were manned, and I pulled away to her assistance. As we got near we saw the crew waving to us, some in the rigging, and some leaning over the sides. Her boats, I concluded, had been knocked to pieces in a gale. At all events none were lowered. The people waved and shouted more vehemently than ever. They had good reason for so doing. I saw by the way that the vessel was labouring, and by her depth in the water, that she was on the point of sinking. Already she had given one or two ominous rolls. I cried out to my men to pull up alongside as fast as they could. We were soon up to her. “Leap, leap!” was the shout. I was afraid that the boats might get foul of some of the rigging, or be drawn into the vortex. Not a moment was to be lost. The merchantman’s crew saw their danger, and threw themselves headlong over the bulwarks. The deck was already almost awash with the sea. Some reached the boats unhurt, others got much bruised, and two poor fellows plunged into the water. One of them sank before we could get hold of him, and the other we had considerable difficulty in saving from the vortex made by the foundering ship.

“Shove off! shove off!” I had to cry out. “Give way—give way, my lads!”

We had barely time to get clear of the vessel before she gave a terrific roll, her stern lifted, and down she went, as if dragged by some invisible power towards the depths of the ocean. We hurried back to the Charon, without attempting to pick up anything, for the weather was coming on bad, and the boats were already as full as they could hold. I could not help remarking how little the men seemed to care for the loss of their ship. Most of them grumbled about losing their bags, but as to any thought of gratitude for their preservation, it did not seem to occur to them that there was any necessity for feeling it. Had no other ship been near, or had their vessel gone down in the night, not one of them would have been saved.

“Oh, they are a precious rough lot, are my men,” observed the master. “There’s nothing they wouldn’t do, and nothing they care for.”

I thought as he spoke that he was precious rough himself, and that it was very much owing to him, and men like him, that merchant-seamen are so often little better than barbarians—without a thought of religion, or a knowledge of a future life. Several more days passed by, and we were making good progress. I little guessed what was in store for us. Often, as I kept my midnight watch, my thoughts flew to Madeline Carlyon, and I delighted to picture to myself the happiness which I anticipated when I should one day be united to her. Of course I could not tell how or when that was to be, but I had so often and so long dwelt on the subject that I began to consider my union with her as a settled thing, that was to be a reality. Of one thing I was most certain, that she fully returned the affection I had bestowed on her. I pictured to myself how delightful it would be to bring her over to England as my wife—to introduce her to my father and mother and my relations, and to witness the admiration I was certain they would bestow on her. However, I did not intend to trouble my readers with a minute account of my own private thoughts and feelings, and yet, had I neglected to speak again of Miss Carlyon, I might have been accused of having heartlessly forgotten one for whom I had before expressed so ardent an affection. Most of my hopes of the successful termination of my love were based, it must be remembered, on the fortune which floated within the ribs of the huge Leviathan, and then my feelings may well be imagined, when, on the morning of the 24th of February, I saw a signal of distress flying on board her. I instantly communicated the circumstance to Captain Luttrell, who ordered all our boats to go to her aid. What was the matter we could not tell. Some thought a fire might have broken out among her cargo—others that she had sprung a leak. At all events it was very evident that her demand for relief was urgent. The boats were speedily lowered. Several of the merchantmen were sending off theirs also, and away we pulled towards her as fast as we could. I was the first on board. I found all the men with their bags on deck, and the officers collected with traps of all sorts. I did not see the captain and first lieutenant. The second lieutenant I knew, and spoke to him.

“We have been holding a council of war, and it has been resolved to abandon the ship, as there does not appear to be the slightest prospect of being able to keep her afloat a day or perhaps an hour longer,” he remarked with a look in which I thought that there was some little amount of shame mingled. “You see, it would not do to risk the lives of the people, or our own either, on the mere chance of keeping the old ship afloat a few days longer at most. The cargo they have put into her is more than she can carry—that is very evident.”

“Yes, indeed—that ought to have been known before?” I exclaimed, stamping with my foot vehemently on the deck. I could not for the life of me help the action. “And is this valuable cargo to be allowed to sink to the bottom of the sea without anyone straining a muscle to save it? That shall not be, and though every body else is afraid of remaining on board, I’ll undertake to stay by her and do my best to keep her afloat.”

“You’ll make your offers to your own captain, sir,” said the captain of the Leviathan, who just then appeared on deck. “If he thinks fit to accept them, he must be answerable for your life. My officers and I have come to the decision that to remain on board is certain destruction. No human power can keep the ship afloat.”

To all this I of course said nothing. I had been too long a midshipman not to know that the less a subordinate differs with his superior officer the better. I therefore merely stated that the boats I commanded were at the captain’s disposal, to convey him and his people on board the Charon, or any of the vessels in the convoy.

The captain, I thought, looked not a little sheepish, though he tried to brazen it out by as pompous a manner as he could assume. For want of sufficient courage and energy he was not only losing three thousand pounds, which he would have received on arriving in England, but allowing a number of other people to lose the hard-won wealth which might have been theirs. It was a very bitter subject to think of, I know. The captain had made up his mind to abandon the ship, and accordingly every boat alongside as well as their own was filled with the men and their bags, and the officers and their private effects. Many preferred taking passages in the merchantmen rather than be crowded up and subject to the discipline of a man-of-war. The captain of the Leviathan resolved on going on board the Charon, and when he got there it struck me that Captain Luttrell received him with an expression of scorn on his countenance which I thought he fully deserved. The men who had been in the boats declared that from what they saw of the old ship she would, with a good crew on board, be able to swim for many a day to come. I of course did not keep silence, but complained bitterly among my shipmates of the cowardice which had caused so valuable a cargo to be deserted. Finding that I could get plenty of support I resolved to ask Commodore Luttrell to let me go on board and try and save the cargo. When I expressed my intention the whole ship’s company begged that they might be allowed to go with me. I told them that I would take as many as I could. The commodore, who had been hearing all the reasons given by the captain of the Leviathan for deserting her, at first tried to dissuade me from going, but when he found that I persisted, in his usual kind way he told me that I might take fifty men, and that he heartily wished me success in my enterprise. By the time I had selected my crew and got the boats in the water it was quite dark. My object was to try and keep the ship afloat during the night, and in the morning to endeavour to discover where the worst leaks were to be found. I had but two boats, so that I could only take part of my crew at a time—the boats were to return for the rest. We shoved off with the full intention of saving the old ship. I felt sure I could do it. Nol Grampus and Tom Rockets were with me, and all were men I knew I could trust. The night was somewhat dark, and there was a good deal of sea on, so that the danger we had to encounter was not small. As we drew near the abandoned ship I saw that she was tumbling about and rolling in a fearful manner. Even in daytime, when we could have watched her movements and better calculated the proper moment to pull up alongside and hook on, the risk would have been very great, and now it was positively terrific. Now the ship came down with a roaring slush into the sea, as if she was never coming up again, and then suddenly she rose and away she rolled over on the other side, lifting her keel almost out of the water. Still to go back was impossible—I could not bring myself to do it. At every risk I determined to get on board. I watched anxiously for the moment. She seemed to be rolling away from us, and I calculated that we should have time to spring on board just as she returned.

“Now, my lads, give way!” I sang out.

They did give way, poor fellows. A sea sent us closer up alongside than I expected. Over again rolled the vast lumbering hull—down—right down upon us it came. Oh, mercy! A cry of horror rose—shrieks for help. The boat was dashed to fragments and pressed under the ship’s bilge. I found myself struggling in the waves with my poor fellows around me. I made a desperate effort to reach the main-chains. Now I was driven back, and all I could see was the dark hull of the old ship rolling above me, and I seemed to be sinking down into total darkness. Then the sea lifted me in its rough embrace just as I thought my last moment had come, and carried me right up to the very spot at which I was aiming. My struggles had so much exhausted my strength that I do not think I could have grasped it, but a strong arm seized mine and lifted me up, and a voice I recognised as that of Nol Grampus exclaimed—

“All right, mate, here you are!”

Tom Rockets had just before reached the same place, and together they hauled me up out of the water. Some of the other men had climbed up by the main-chains, and others by the mizen-chains; but when we all at last got on deck and I began to muster them, I found that seven poor fellows were missing. There was no time to grieve about their loss. Our business was to try and get the crew of the other boat—the jolly-boat—on board, and to set to work to see if the ship herself could be kept afloat. Warning them of what had happened, we stood by with ropes to tell them to approach at the proper time. I waited till the ship was actually rolling over on that side, and then singing out to them they got alongside just as she was on an even keel. They were not many moments in scrambling on board. The boat’s falls were happily rove, so we hooked on and hoisted her up out of harm’s way. Not a boat belonging to the ship remained, and here was I in a sinking craft, with only twenty-two men instead of the fifty I had expected to have to stand by me—a dark night—a heavy sea—a gale brewing—not far from an enemy’s shore—not that that mattered much, by-the-bye. Still, thinking about our condition would do no good—action was what was required. My first care was to sound the well. There were nine feet of water in the hold. It was no wonder she tumbled about in the strange way she was doing. It was only surprising that she kept afloat at all. Grampus proposed returning to the Charon for more people; but as I thought very likely, when Captain Luttrell heard that so many had been lost, he would not allow any more to come, I would not let him go. Besides, I had no fancy to be left in a sinking ship, without even a boat to take my people and me off, should she, without more warning, go down. Instead of that I made my men a speech—a very short one, though—told them that if we set to work with a will we might yet, without further aid, keep the old Leviathan at the top of the water till the morning, when more hands would come to our assistance, and we might probably save some of the rich cargo on board. They at once saw the justness of my remarks, and they knew that the Charon had no other boats remaining in which the rest of those who had volunteered could come to our assistance. Accordingly, having trimmed sails as well as could be done to keep way with the convoy, I ordered the pumps to be manned, and we all set to with a will. Everyone worked as if they felt their lives depended on it; so they did, I was convinced, for had we relaxed for ten minutes the old ship might have given one plunge too much and gone down. I took my spell with the rest, or rather, I may say, that I and all the rest laboured away with scarcely an interval of rest. After two hours’ hard pumping I sent Grampus to ascertain whether we had in any way diminished the water in the hold. All we had done was to get it under about a foot. From the quantity of water we had pumped out I therefore knew that the leak or rather leaks must be very bad ones. Still, if I had had my fifty men with me, I should have been able, I was sure, unless the weather came on very bad, to keep the leaks under. However, I resolved to keep up my own spirits and those of the people with me as well as I could. Now and then I shouted out a few words of encouragement, then I sang a few snatches of some well-known song, or cut a joke or two suited to the taste of my followers. This kept them in good spirits and prevented them from thinking of the dangerous predicament in which we were placed. Hour after hour dragged its heavy footsteps along, and often I felt so weary that I thought I must throw myself down on the deck and give in. Then I would take a few minutes’ rest, sitting on a gun, and go at it again.

Everything contributed to make me persevere, and not the least, I must own, was my anger and disgust at the shameful and cowardly way in which the ship had been abandoned. Oh, how I wished for daylight! and yet daylight I knew was far-off. I kept Grampus and Rockets near me that I might send them, as might be necessary, to ascertain the state of affairs in different parts of the ship. In a small craft I might more easily have known what was going forward, but in a huge lumbering ship like the Leviathan I could not tell what might be occurring. When the condition of a ship has become desperate, sailors have very often broken into the spirit-room, and, getting drunk, have allowed her to sink with them. I had my fears that my poor fellows, when they became weary, would be guilty of some similar excess.

“Well, Grampus, how is the ship getting on?” I asked, after he had returned from one of the trips on which I had despatched him.

“The old craft is sucking in almost as much water as our fine fellows drive out of her, sir, but for all that there isn’t one of them shirking his duty,” he answered, in a cheerful voice. “If we could have a glass of grog apiece served out among us, I don’t think as how it would do us any harm.”

“I’ll see to it,” I replied. “Here, give me a spell; I’ll get some myself from the spirit-room.” Searching about I found a can, and lantern in hand I descended to the lower regions of the ship. As I groped my way there, the strange noises which assailed my ears—the creakings, the groans, the wash of the water—almost deafened me. I felt strongly inclined to turn back, for I could not help fancying that the ship was that instant about to go down. The air, too, was close and pestiferous, as if all the foul vapours had been forced up from the inward recesses of the hold. She continued pitching and rolling in a way so unusual that I could scarcely keep my legs. This was owing to the unseamanlike mode in which the cargo had been stowed: indeed, a ship of war was not calculated to carry a cargo at all, in addition to her own stores, water and ammunition.

At length I filled my can and returned with it on deck, filling it up on my way at one of the water-casks. Then I went round and served it out to the people, and never was grog more thankfully received. It did them all a great deal of good, and I am certain that on this occasion, by pouring the spirit down their own throats, they were enabled to get a great deal more of the water out of the ship. I took very sparingly of it myself, for I never was in the habit of taking much liquor of any sort, and I felt the vast importance, under present circumstances especially, that it was for me to keep my head cool. Not only on this occasion, but on all others did I feel this; indeed, though the licence of the times allowed a great deal of hard drinking on shore, I held the vice in just abhorrence. In the navy especially, more men have been ruined body and soul by drunkenness than by any other way, and many a fine fellow who would have been an ornament to his profession have I seen completely lost to it and to his country by giving way to the vice. I will say that I considered it very creditable to my fellows that, although they might at any time have found their way to the spirit-room, they never for a moment left the pumps, and only took the grog I served out to them.

Even the longest night must have an end. It was with no little satisfaction and gratitude also that I hailed the first faint streaks of light in the eastern sky. As the light increased, and I saw that we were surrounded by a number of vessels, with the Charon at no great distance, my spirits rose, and instead of wishing at once to abandon the Leviathan I bethought me that it still might be possible to get some of her cargo out of her before she went to the depths below, if go she must. Grampus agreed with me that this object might be effected. I signalled my intentions accordingly to the Charon, and very soon I had the satisfaction of seeing the commodore speaking a number of the merchantmen. They quickly replied, and he then signalled to me to set to work and get up the cargo as fast as I could. I could have wished to be supplied with more men, but, weak-handed as I was, after my faithful fellows had taken such food as could be found for breakfast, we set to work and rigged tackles and cranes to hoist up the indigo and sarsaparilla and anything on which we could lay hands. It was heavy work, for the old ship was still rolling very much, and we were all pretty well knocked up with what we had gone through in the night. The appearance of half-a-dozen boats or more, however, pulling towards us gave us fresh spirits. We sang away cheerily as we got saroon after saroon of indigo up on deck. This was, however, only part of the labour; the greatest difficulty was to lower them into the boats. The wind fortunately fell, and I was able to get up altogether during the day no less than 123 saroons of indigo, valued at sixteen thousand pounds. Why more assistance was not given me I cannot say. I do not like to dwell on the subject. In the evening the masters signalled to their boats to return, and my people and I were left alone once more on board the rotten old ship, with only the jolly-boat in which to make our escape should she go down. As the sun set the sky looked very windy, and there was considerably more sea than there had been all day. I called Grampus to my councils. He agreed with me in not at all liking the look of the weather. The people were ready to stay by me as long as I thought fit to remain on board, but they had already begun to express a wish to return to the Charon.

Taking all things into consideration I resolved to follow this course, and with a heavy heart ordered the people into the jolly-boat. I was the last man to quit the ship, and as I went down the side I certainly did not expect to see her afloat the next morning. I had no time, however, for sentimental regrets, for the sea was getting up, the sky was looking very wild and windy, and darkness was fast coming on. The boat also was much overcrowded. We, however, left the Leviathan’s side without an accident, and pulled slowly towards the Charon. She lay across the sea, and was rolling considerably when we got near her. We pulled up under her quarter. The bowman stood up, boat-hook in hand, to catch hold of the rope hove to us, when, losing his balance, he was pitched overboard. In vain his mates forward tried to catch hold of him; the next sea, probably, struck his head against the ship’s side, and he sank from our sight. While we were endeavouring to save him, indeed, the boat herself very nearly capsized, when probably all or most of us in her would have lost our lives. Happily, however, as it was, we managed to scramble on board, and the jolly-boat was hoisted up safe.

The commodore, as did my brother-officers, complimented me very much on what I had done, but as I had been left alone, I thought very unfairly, in my glory, I cannot say that I valued their compliments at a very high rate. I knew that I had done my duty at all events, and that was enough for me. Captain Luttrell, however, of his own accord agreed to remain by the Leviathan till the morning, in the hopes of being able to get more of her cargo out of her. Out of spirits at the loss of so many poor fellows, and after all at having done so little, I entered the gun-room. Supper was placed before me; I could scarcely touch it. Getting rid of my wet clothes, I threw myself at last into my berth, and scarcely had my head touched my pillow than I was fast asleep. Still the thought of the Leviathan haunted me, and I continued dreaming of the scenes I had gone through during the time I had been on board her. At last I awoke, and, slipping on my clothes, found my way on deck. There she lay—a dark, misty-looking object—rolling away even more violently than before, so it seemed to me. Still she was afloat, and while she remained above water I still had hopes of saving more of her cargo. As I gazed at her a strange sensation came over me. I know that I began to talk loudly and to wave my hand, and to play all sorts of antics. How long I was doing this I do not know, when one of my brother-officers put his hand on my shoulder and said, “You have had hard work, Hurry; bed is the best place for you.” I let him lead me below without a word of remonstrance. It struck eight bells in the morning watch when I once more awoke. I hurried on deck; the sky was dark and lowering—the leaden seas tumbling about with snow-white crests, from which the foam flew away to leeward, blown by a strong gale, which seemed every moment increasing. We were still close to the Leviathan. I kept gazing at her with a sort of stupid stare I dare say it looked like.

“It will not do, Hurry,” said Captain Luttrell. “We must give it up. I cannot risk your life or those of any of our people on board the old ship again.”

I was scarcely inclined to acquiesce in his remark. I wanted to make another effort to save the ship, and regretted that I had not remained on board all night. Just then she made two or three rolls heavier than usual—a sea appeared suddenly to lift up her stern—she made a plunge forward. I watched, expecting her to rise again—but no. It was her last plunge. Like the huge monster from which she took her name, she dived down beneath the waves; the waters washed over her decks; gradually her masts sank till the pennant alone was to be seen streaming upwards for an instant, till that also was drawn down to the depths of the ocean. I could not help uttering a groan of grief, not for the wealth which I thus saw engulfed beneath the waves, but for the destruction of all the hopes I had been so fondly cherishing.

The signal was now made for the convoy to continue on their course. The bad weather which had been brewing now coming on, ship after ship parted company from us, and at length, after a passage of six weeks, we reached the Downs on the 21st of March without a single one of the convoy with us. I had been absent from home just five years and a half. I had left it a boy—if not in age, in habits and feelings; I had come back an officer—bearing his Majesty’s commission as lieutenant, with ideas expanded and feelings wonderfully changed. Without any difficulty, the moment I applied for leave Captain Luttrell granted it, and, taking Tom Rockets with me, I set off immediately for London on my way to Falmouth.

Chapter Twenty.

Adventures on the road.—Welcomed at home.—Confess my love for the little Rebel.—Tom’s grief for his mother’s death.—Hear of Captain Cook’s death.—Visit to London.—The Gordon riots.—Encounter with the mob.—Save an old gentleman in his carriage.—Give him my name.—Wonder who he can be.—Join the Charon, Captain Thomas Symonds.—Sail for West Indies.

Seldom, I suspect, have two rough-looking subjects made their appearance at an inn in the great City of London than Tom Rockets and I must have seemed when we arrived there by the Deal heavy coach on the evening of the 22nd of March, 1780. Our faces were of the colour of dark copper, and our beards were as rough and thick as holly bushes, while Tom sported a pig-tail and love-locks, which he flattered himself would prove the admiration of all the belles in his native village. They, at all events, drew forth not a few remarks from the little errand-boys in the streets of London, as we heard such remarks as, “There go two sea monsters!” “Where can those niggers have come from?” “Look there, at that sailor man with a bit of a cable fastened on to his pole!” More than once Tom turned to try and catch hold one of the little jackanapes, but he was off so fast down some lane or other that even Tom could not overtake him. I advised him to give up the attempt, and to take their impertinence coolly. I kept Tom by me wherever I went, for I felt pretty certain that, should I once lose sight of him, he might never find his way back to me.

I cannot stop to describe all the sights we saw, and the places we visited in the mighty metropolis. The town was talking a great deal of a duel which had taken place the very morning of our arrival in Hyde Park between Lord Shelbourne and Colonel Fullerton. The quarrel was about some reflection which the latter gentleman had cast upon his lordship. On the second shot the colonel hit Lord Shelbourne, who fell to the ground, but the wound was not considered dangerous. I bethought me of the duel I had fought when I was a boy, and that these two great people were very little wiser than I was then.

As soon as we could get places in the old coach we started for Falmouth, intending to visit the remainder of the sights on our way back to the ship. Away we rumbled, one fine morning, on board the big coach, as Tom called it, with a guard behind well armed with a huge blunderbuss and a brace of horse pistols. We stopped to change horses at an inn about thirty miles from London. A long line of horses, with packs on their backs, were collected in front of the stables to be watered. Twenty men or so were lounging about, apparently belonging to them. Presently there was a cry of, “The Custom-house officers! the Custom-house officers!” The men ran up from all directions, unloosed the halters, leaped on the backs of some saddle-horses standing ready, and the whole party began to move along the road. They had not gone many yards when another party of horsemen were seen galloping up from the direction in which they were going. The smugglers—for such the guard told us they were—turned round and dashed by us, but they were again met by another party of Custom-house officers. Swords were drawn, pistols were fired, the bullets came flying about the coach, greatly to the alarm of some of the passengers, who cried out and begged the combatants to desist. Our horses kicked and plunged, and nearly upset the coach. Tom and I could not help wishing to join the skirmish, and had jumped off for the purpose, though I had scarcely made up my mind with which party to side, when some of the smugglers threw down their arms and cried peccavi, while the rest tried to escape across the country over the hedges and ditches. Some were caught, but several effected their escape. I was well satisfied, when I had time to reflect on the matter, that I had not had time to mix in the affray. Altogether, thirty horses were captured, as were several of the smugglers, some of whom were wounded, as were five or six of the horses. We were, when passing through Devonshire, attacked by a party of highwaymen, but they, finding several armed men on the top of the coach who did not look as if we would stand any nonsense, thought it was wiser not to make any further attempt at robbing us. These trifling circumstances were the only events which occurred to us worthy of notice till we reached Falmouth. Tom accompanied me to my father’s house, for I wanted to show him to them all, and also to ascertain whether his mother was living before I let him go home. We had been so long without hearing that I could not tell what might have occurred during our absence; my knees positively trembled as I approached the dear old red-brick house, and I felt as if I could scarcely walk up the flight of stone steps in front of it. The door was open. A little child was playing on the steps, and when he saw us he ran into the house, crying out—

“Oh, Grannie, Grannie! dear me, dear me! there are two big ugly blackamoors a-coming!”

Tom made a face, and looked at himself as if he did not much like the compliment, though he might have felt he deserved it. I should have caught up the little fellow and kissed him heartily, for I guessed that he must be one of my dear sister Mary’s children, and the first kindred thing I had seen for many a long year. The cry brought out a neat, trim old lady, in a mob cap. She gave me an inquiring glance through her spectacles, and then, hurrying forward, caught me in her arms and kissed me again and again on both cheeks in spite of my huge beard and whiskers.

“My boy, my boy! you’ve came back at last to your old father and mother, bless Heaven far it?” she exclaimed, holding me at arms’ length to examine my features, and then drawing me to her again. Tom pulled off his hat, and scraped his feet, and hitched up his trousers, and looked as if he expected to receive a similar welcome. Poor fellow! his heart yearned, I dare say, to have the arms of his own old mother round his neck. My mother looked at him to inquire who he was, and when I told her, an expression of sorrow crossed over her features, and I too truly guessed that she had some sad tidings for him. She, however, summoned a maid-servant, to whom she whispered a few words, and then told her to take him into the kitchen and make him comfortable. My father was out, but while I was sitting in the parlour I heard him come in. My mother went out to tell him that I had arrived, and he came hurrying in with steps far more tottering than was formerly his wont. He wrung my hand with both of his for more than a minute. From the tremulous motion of his fingers, and the tone of his voice and his general appearance, with sorrow I observed that he was much broken and aged. Still his playful humour had not deserted him, and he soon began to amuse himself by cutting jokes on my swarthy features and unshorn visage. Mary’s little boy, Jack, in a very short time, became perfectly reconciled to my looks, and came and sat on my knee and let me dance him and ride him, and listened eagerly to the songs I sang him and the stories I told. Though I had not had a child in my hands for I don’t know how many years, it all came naturally, and the little chap and I became great friends. Only my sister Jane, the one just above me in age, was at home. All my brothers were scattered about, some in England, others in different parts of the world seeking their fortunes. I was in a great hurry to talk to Jane about Madeline. I knew that she would sympathise with me. I had not written home a word about her, for I knew that it would never do to say that I had fallen in love with the daughter of a rebel, as my feelings and motives and reasons would not fail to be misunderstood. I thought that I would first interest Jane, and then that we could win over my mother to listen to what we had to say, and then that my father would easily be brought round. Of course I knew that two important events must occur before anything I could say or do would be of any use. The abominable war between England and the United States must cease, and I must become possessed of a competence to support a wife as I felt Madeline ought to be supported.

I had not been long in the house before the news of my arrival had spread among our friends and neighbours. Many came in to see the long-absent sailor, as the ladies called me, and some to inquire about their relatives, my old shipmates and comrades. Of too many, unhappily, I could give but a bad account. Some had died of fever, others had been killed fighting with the enemy, and many, knocked up by hard work and disease, would, I thought, never return, or, if they found their way home, it would be but to die. I tried, however, to make the best of all the accounts I had to give, but I strained my conscience not a little a times to do so. This was a moral cowardice, I own. I could not stand the tears and sorrowful faces of friends when I would have wished to have had smiles and laughter. Still there can be no doubt that the truth should be spoken on all occasions, and I should, at every cost, have had it out at once. After all, the worst was to have to tell poor Tom that his mother was dead. For the life of me I could not do it, so I got Jane to go and break the sad news to him. I knew that the good girl would do it as gently as it could be done. She screwed up her courage, and went into the kitchen and sat down, and began to tell him how she was always talking of him, and hoping that he was a good lad, and then how ill she had been. At last Tom got up—

“Oh, Miss Jane!” said he, almost choking, “I know by your looks what you are going to tell me. Bless you for your kindness. The old lady has gone to heaven; that’s it, I know. She was a good mother to me, and I don’t care who knows, I would sooner by half have died myself. Bless you, miss! Bless you, miss!”

Then Tom sat down, and, putting his hands on the kitchen table, hid his face in them, and by the working of his brawny shoulders I knew how much he was affected. We left him to the care of our old cook, Betsy Treggle, who, we knew, could minister to his sorrow better than we could, and returned into the parlour.

“Sailors have got hearts, I see,” observed my mother.

“I should think so, mother,” said I; “the sea does not wash them away; and yet there isn’t a braver fellow ever stepped the deck of a ship than the same Tom Rockets, who seems to be almost pumping his heart out yonder.”

Then I gave them all an account of his adventure at the taking of San Fernando D’Omoa, when he handed the Spanish officer a cutlass to fight with him. In the first few days I was at home I was made more of than I ever had been before in my life. Tom stayed on with us. He had now no home to go to—no friends for whom he cared. He recovered his spirits and became as great a lion among his class as I was among mine—indeed, I suspect a far greater, as he made more than I could of all the adventures he had gone through, and was eager to tell about. The days passed by very pleasantly, but I felt a weight oppressing me, and could not rest till I had unburdened my mind to Jane about Madeline early on. At last I got her alone quietly, and told her all that had happened from beginning to end, and all my hopes and fears and wishes. She listened attentively. Her countenance changed its expression frequently as I went on. I looked at her earnestly to try and discover what she thought.

“Oh, brother,” she exclaimed at last, “I doubt not that she is a dear charming girl. I doubt not that you love her, and that she is deserving of your love, but she is the daughter of a rebel. She is living among rebels; she will not leave them; but for you to go to them, to wed with her would assuredly bring dishonour and disgrace upon your name.”

“Why, Jane, I did not expect you to speak thus,” I exclaimed. “You are hard upon me. I would not wish to go and live with rebels; but the Americans will not be rebels much longer. We are pressing them hard by land and sea, and they will soon come to terms. If they do not give in I think we shall give up, for everybody is heartily sick of the war. Nobody is gaining anything, and everybody is losing by it. Fighting the French and the Spaniards is a very different thing. Everybody feels that. It’s all natural, you know.”

“I’m sure that I shall be glad to hear that the war is over,” said Jane, with a sigh, “but surely the Americans must be very wicked people to behave as they have done to their lawful sovereign King George.”

“They say that he has been a very ill-advised King to behave as he has done to them,” I replied. “You see, dear Jane, that there are two sides to every question; but do not let us discuss that matter just now. You’ll say that, for the sake of Madeline Carlyon, I am siding too much with the Americans, but that is not the reason. I have been on the spot. I know the feelings of both sides. I have seen how things have been managed. I am sure the war can bring no honour or profit to England, and I heartily wish that it was ended one way or the other.”

“So do I, brother, believe me,” said Jane warmly; “and then, if Miss Carlyon is all you describe her, I for one will cordially welcome her as a sister if you can persuade her to come over here to visit our kith and kin.”

I jumped up and gave Jane a hearty kiss when she said this.

“Just like my own good sister,” said I at the same time, and in a moment I pictured to myself the happiness which would be mine, when perhaps in that very room I might be introducing Madeline to my family. I forgot that I was still a poor lieutenant—that the wealth I had so nearly possessed, and had fought so hard to obtain, had gone to the bottom in the old Leviathan—that I had saved but a few hundred pounds of prize-money—that England and the American States were still actively engaged in war—that the Atlantic still rolled between her and me, and that her kindred would probably exert their influence to make her give up all thoughts of one fighting on the side of their enemies. I was young, and hope was bright, and difficulties and impediments were speedily kicked away. Before another day Jane and I were talking away as if my marriage with Madeline Carlyon was a settled thing. At last we told our mother, dear old soul! She didn’t see how it could be exactly, but then that was her fault; and though she used to have some idea formerly that the Americans were red, and wore leathern cloaks and petticoats covered with beads and feathers, and painted their faces, yet, as I assured her that Miss Carlyon was quite fair, and spoke English like an English girl, she would be very glad to receive her as a daughter, and for my sake love her very much. The toughest job was to tell my father. I was half afraid how he would take the matter. He did not scold me, or say I had been acting foolishly, but merely smiled and remarked that he had heard of midshipmen falling in love before, and that he had no doubt that Miss Carlyon was a very charming young lady; but that when I brought her over as my wife he should be able to pronounce a more decided opinion on the matter. There was, however, a touch of irony in his tone which I did not altogether like. However, he used after that to listen very patiently when we were all talking about her, and, I flattered myself, began to take an interest in my project. The days flew by very rapidly. I was invited out everywhere, and became quite a lion, not only because I had been in so many engagements and storms and dangers of all sorts, and had had so many hair-breadth escapes, but more especially because I had actually seen and conversed with General Washington. The young ladies, however, looked upon me as a very insensible sort of a person, especially for a naval officer, and could not in any way make me out. Of course, neither Jane nor my mother and father said a word about Miss Carlyon, and so we let them wonder on till I believe that I completely lost my character among them. Six weeks thus passed rapidly away. The time thus spent was interesting to me, but no events occurred of sufficient importance to describe to my readers. My regular employment was to search the public papers for news from America, to see how affairs were going in that country; and though most naval officers would have been anxious for a continuance of the war, my great wish was to discover signs that there was a probability of its being brought to a conclusion.

Since I had known Captain Cook I had always taken great interest in his adventures, and just now the sad news arrived of his death on the island of Hawaii, one of a group of newly-discovered islands in the Pacific Ocean called the Sandwich Islands. Four of his marines were killed at the same time. At first the natives treated him and his people as divinities, but on some misunderstanding they furiously set upon Captain Cook, and killed him with their clubs as he was retreating to his boat. The Resolution and Discovery proceeded on their voyage under the command of Captain Clerke, but he soon after dying at sea, Mr King took command of the expedition. Captain Clerke was a very gallant fellow. I knew him well.

At last my leave was nearly up, and I had to set off to rejoin my ship, allowing myself a few days to spend in London. Jane advised me to stop at Bristol to visit our great-uncle, Sir Hurricane Tempest, but I replied that I did not think the old gentleman would care about seeing me, and I certainly should not find any pleasure in seeing him.

“You don’t know,” she answered, laughing; “he might take a fancy to you and make you his heir. He has asked me to visit him, and I think I will, some of these days.”

“I hope that you will, Jane, dear,” said I. “You are far more likely to win an old man’s heart than I am. I am as likely to become his heir as Sultan of the Turks.”

Jane still further urged the point, but I only laughed and went on to London without stopping to see him.

On arriving in London, accompanied by Tom Rockets, I went to the house of a relative of ours in Bloomsbury Square, one of the most fashionable and elegant quarters of London. He and his wife were very grand people, but they had a fancy for patronising celebrities small and great, and having by some chance heard that I had seen a good deal of service, and could talk about what I had seen, they begged I would come and see them, and make their house my home. I took them at their word, though I think they were somewhat astonished when Tom and I arrived in a coach with our traps stored inside and out of it. They looked, at all events, as if I had tumbled from the moon. However, I made myself perfectly at home, and we soon became great friends. I was on the point of leaving them when a letter reached me from Captain Luttrell, prolonging my leave, and I found that I might have remained three weeks longer at home. When they heard of it, they most kindly invited me to remain on with them. I amused myself pretty well, after I had seen all the sights of London, by wandering about and examining the outside, as it were, of the huge metropolis. One of the places at which I found myself was the suburb of Tyburn, to the north of Hyde Park. It was a considerable distance from London itself, and well it might be, for here was the place of execution of all ordinary malefactors. One day I was passing this spot when I saw four carts approaching. In each of them were three persons sitting, with their arms closely pinioned. On each side of the carts rode public officers, the sheriffs, city marshals, the ordinary of Newgate, and others. I asked a bystander where they were going and what was to be done to them, for I did not know at the time that I was near Tyburn.

“Why, of course, they are all going to be hung,” was his reply. “We are pretty well accustomed to such sights about here.”

“Are they all murderers?” I asked, thinking, perhaps, that they were a gang of pirates.

“No—oh no!” said my friend. “They are mostly guilty of robbery, though. You will hear what they have to say for themselves before they are turned off; I will learn for you, if you have a curiosity to know.”

He went away, and soon returned with a paper on which were written the names of the malefactors and their crimes. One had stolen some wearing apparel; another had robbed a gentleman of his watch on the highway; a third had purloined some silks and ribbons from a shop, and so on. None of the crimes, that I remember, were attended with violence, and most of the criminals were mere lads, from seventeen to twenty years of age, and only one or two above it. I remarked this to my companion.

“Yes,” he observed. “The older ones are too knowing to be caught.”

The poor lads seemed terribly agitated and cast down at their approaching fate, and shed abundance of tears. One after the other was led up to the fatal drop and cast off. I could not stop to see the end, but hurried away. I had seen hundreds of my fellow-creatures die, but I hoped that I might never again see any put to death as these were.

After this I went down to Chatham to see how the ship was getting on, and then returned to London. I found the city in a complete state of uproar and confusion. It was on a Friday, the 2nd of June, when Tom and I made our way towards the Houses of Parliament, for I had heard that Lord George Gordon was going with a large body of people to present a protest against the repeal of any of the penal laws against the Roman Catholics. I wanted to see the fun. There must have been twenty thousand people at least, who arrived in three different bodies before the Houses of Parliament. Here they behaved very orderly, and dispersed after being addressed by some of the magistrates; but the mob in other places broke out into all sorts of excesses, and as we went home we found them busily employed in demolishing a Romish Chapel in Duke Street, near Lincoln’s Inn Fields. They hauled out all the ornaments, and what they thought of no value they trampled under foot, but the rest they made off with. Several houses, either belonging to Romanists, or inhabited by persons supposed to be favourable to them, we saw completely gutted. The same sort of work went on for several days. At last I got so completely mixed up with one of the mobs that I could not get free of them.

“Here, you look a likely man to lead us!” exclaimed a fellow standing near me. “Where shall we go next?”

I did not answer him, but endeavoured to get away. This did not suit him.

“What does the captain say?” he exclaimed.

“To Sir George Saville’s, to Sir George Saville’s!” cried some one.

“Hurrah for Sir George Saville’s in Leicester Fields! He was the very man who brought the Romish Bill into Parliament. Down with his house, down with it!” shouted another fellow. “Lead on, captain—lead on!”

I at once saw that this was a trick that the real leader of the mob might be screened. I was determined to escape or I might be ruined. I told Tom to keep his eye on me, and to follow my movements. The mob began to move on, destroying one or two houses on their way. We at last passed the entrance to a narrow lane. Leaping aside, I darted down it. Tom followed. None of the mob missed me. I had got some way along the lane when a big, ill-favoured-looking fellow rushed out of a house with a thick stick in his hand, evidently with the intention of joining the rioters. Seeing a gentleman, and probably thinking I was a Romanist escaping from the mob, he immediately turned on me and aimed a blow at my head. I was just turning a corner, and he did not see Tom Rockets, but Tom saw him, and with a stroke of his fist felled him to the ground. Some other persons in the neighbouring houses saw the transaction, and the fellow quickly recovering there was a hue and cry made after us, the people rushing from their doors just as dogs are seen to run out from their kennels, yelping and barking when a stranger cur passes through the village.

As we were unarmed we could do nothing to defend ourselves, and had to trust to our heels for safety. Our pursuers were very likely, I knew, to tear us in pieces without asking any questions, and before we had time to explain who we were. I never ran faster in my life. How we were to escape them I could not tell. On we went: I sang out to Tom to stick by me, for if I should lose him I was afraid he might never find his way home again. We were distancing our pursuers. I made as many turns as I could, so as to cause them to lose the scent; but there were knowing fellows among them, and I conclude that they found as great an interest in the chase as a foxhunter does when following the hounds. At last I saw before me a large mob. There is safety in numbers, I thought to myself, so I called to Tom to dash in among them.

“Hurrah! hurrah! have you caught the fellow?” I sang out.

“No, he’s slipped out of his kennel, but we’ll take care that he does not burrow in it again,” replied some of the people.

I guessed that they referred to the unfortunate inmate of the mansion into which numbers of them were forcing their way, while pictures, books, and pieces of furniture were being thrown out of the windows. I pretended to be very eager to get into the house, but making my way round on the opposite side, followed by Tom, we got free; and when I looked back I saw that no one was following us. We now walked along as composedly as we could, but it was not without difficulty that we found our way into Bloomsbury Square. As we got there we saw a mob following at our heels, and we naturally thought they were after us. We had to run for it to reach my relative’s house. On came the mob. One of the finest houses in the square belonged to my Lord Mansfield. They rushed towards it, and began thundering at the door. They soon broke it open, and in they poured. In an instant the place became the scene of the most dreadful havoc and destruction. Again did I see pictures, clothes, books, furniture of the richest sorts, ruthlessly destroyed. I could scarcely have supposed that the work could have been done so rapidly. Then the most daring of the ruffians broke into the wine-cellar, and we saw them coming out with bottles and jugs and glasses, and distributing the rich liquor to the rabble outside.

What had become of my lord and his lady all this time we could not tell; we had great fears that they had fallen victims to the blind fury of the ignorant populace. I wanted to go out, but my relative would not let me. What the drunken mob might next have done I do not know, when a fresh party were seen entering the square; but they were a body of the royal guards with a magistrate at their head. He boldly approached the mob, and, halting the soldiers at no great distance from them, began to read the Riot Act. He finished it without faltering, the mob continuing as before their work of destruction. “Men,” he shouted, “I have warned you. I am going to give the order to the troops to fire if you do not desist. Once again I warn you—your blood be on your own heads—Fire!”

No sooner was the fatal command given than the soldiers levelled their muskets and let fly in among the rabble. Several fell; there were shrieks and cries and curses; but the people were too eager in their thirst for plunder to be driven off from the work they had in hand. Again the order was given to fire; but the humane magistrate ordered the troops to fire over the heads of the people. Some on this began to move off, but others continued their task of plunder and destruction. No one thought of attacking the soldiery. It showed the class of people composing the rioters—the very scum of the populace. This last fire of course did not produce any effect, and the mob began to proceed to greater extremities, and set fire both to the out-houses and stables, as also to the mansion itself, when they had possessed themselves of everything they thought of value. Only after repeated volleys from the soldiery were they driven off, and not till they had completed the work of destruction they had commenced. This did not take them long, and at last, several of their number having fallen, a panic seized them, and away they went helter-skelter in every direction out of the square. I could not resist the temptation of sallying out to see what they would next do, in spite of the warnings of my relative, who advised me to keep in the house. I laughed at the idea of there being any danger, and said that Tom and I would very soon be back again.

The troops stood their ground in readiness to march in any direction to which they might be sent. Some of the mob went off towards the east, and I went after them, hearing that they were about to attack some of the prisons, and having a fancy to see how they would proceed about the undertaking. Tom and I had gone about half a mile or more, when, coming along a street which crossed that we were in, I saw a coach driving somewhat fast. Some of the rioters saw it also, and some seizing the horses’ heads, others proceeded to open the door, crying out that the person inside was a papist escaping from justice.

“Papist! I am no papist,” cried out an old gentleman from the interior; “let my carriage proceed on, scoundrels, or I’ll break some of your heads for you.”

This threat had no effect; indeed, from the appearance of the fellows I had no doubt that their only object in attacking the carriage was for the sake of robbing the inmate. I had this time taken care to come out provided with a stout bludgeon and a sword. I knew pretty well the sort of coward hearts to be found in that sort of gentry, so telling Tom what I proposed doing, I sang out, “To the rescue! to the rescue!—off scoundrels, off!” and, drawing my sword, I rushed furiously at them, as if I had twenty stout fellows at my back. The desired effect was produced. They did not stop to see who was coming, but took to their heels and left the carriage free. I assisted back the old gentleman, who had been dragged half out of it, and, shutting the door, told the coachman to drive on as hard as he could go.

“Stop, stop! I want to know your name, young man, to thank you for your bravery,” exclaimed the old gentleman vehemently.

“Hurricane Hurry, at your service, sir, a lieutenant in his Majesty’s Navy,” I answered. “I hail from Falmouth, sir—but I won’t stop you, sir, the mob are coming back, and to a certainty they won’t let you off as easily as before. Drive on, coachman, drive on for your life: I can tackle them if they attack me.”

The coachman needed no second warning, but, lashing on his horses, drove furiously along the street, though the old gentleman put his head out of the coach window and ordered him to stop, as he had another word to say to me, and wanted me to get into the coach with him. I would gladly have done as he desired, as there was no object in exposing myself and Tom to the fury of the mob, and was running after the coach, when, looking over my shoulder, I saw some of the ruffians so close on my heels that I was obliged to turn round and defend myself, or I might have received a knock on the head which would probably have quieted me for ever. Knowing that there was nothing like a sudden onslaught, I turned suddenly round, and, seconded by Tom, made so furious an onslaught on the scoundrels that they one and all fled, as if a body of dragoons were upon them. The old gentleman, who was still looking out of the window, calling first to the coachman and then to me, must have seen this last manoeuvre of mine.

After Tom and I had with loud shouts pursued the mob a little way, we once more turned round and set off in order to overtake the coach. It had, however, by that time got out of sight, and though we followed in the direction I supposed it had gone, we did not again see it.

“Never mind,” said I, “I should have liked to have known who the old gentleman was; he looked like somebody of consequence. However, I am very glad to have been of service to him.”

After this adventure I began to reflect that it would be wiser to return home. I could not tell what might next happen. The day was drawing to a close. As we looked eastward, we saw the whole sky glowing with a lurid glare, which I afterwards found was produced by the conflagration of Newgate prison, which, after the mob had broken into and released all the prisoners, they set on fire. My relative was very glad to see me back safe, and on hearing of my adventures said that Tom and I were very fortunate to have escaped with our lives, and positively prohibited our again quitting the house. During the next day flames were seen bursting forth in every direction. Most of the prisons, as also many private houses, were broken open and burnt to the ground, and several hundred people were shot by the military, while perhaps an equal number died from drinking inordinately of spirits which they procured at the distillers’, into which they broke, or were burnt to death in the ruins of the houses they set on fire. At length, however, so many troops, regular and militia, poured into London, that the rioters were completely overcome, and numerous arrests took place. Among others, Lord George Gordon was apprehended and committed a prisoner to the Tower.

Not long after this, I bade my kind friends in London good-bye, and joined my ship at Chatham. I ought to have said that they were very much interested in the account I gave them of the way I had rescued the old gentleman in the coach. Who he could be they could not guess, but they said that they would make inquiries, and if they could hear they would let me know. I felt no little curiosity to obtain this information; but day after day passed by and I heard nothing about the matter. There was something in his look and in his eagerness to speak to me which struck me forcibly at the time, and over and over again his countenance recurred to me; but whether I had ever seen it before, or why it made so deep an impression on me, I could not tell. There was nothing very remarkable in saving an old gentleman from a mob, when mobs were parading all parts of London, and undoubtedly many old gentlemen, physicians and others, were driving about in their coaches, called out, however unwillingly, by urgent business. Hearing nothing, my curiosity at length died away, and I thought no more about the matter. I must remark that Lord George Gordon was afterwards brought to trial, but acquitted of having in any way participated in the riots and plundering and destruction of property which had occurred, as also that any of the disorders had occurred in consequence of his instigation or counsel. He undoubtedly was influenced in his proceedings by a warm affection for the Protestant faith, though it may be doubted whether he took the wisest course to support it. He wished that the multitudes he assembled should merely produce a moral effect on the Houses of Parliament. The ruffians and robbers of London took the opportunity, on finding large masses of people assembled, to create disturbances, and to incite the more ignorant masses to commit all sorts of outrages in order that they might have greater licence and opportunities of plunder. In this they unhappily succeeded, and brought no small amount of opprobrium and disgrace on the Protestant cause. I have now said, I think, enough about my adventures on shore.

On the 16th of June Captain Luttrell was superseded in his command of the Charon by Captain Thomas Symonds, whose son was appointed third lieutenant of the ship. On the 1st of July we dropped down to Sheerness, where we got in our guns. On the 12th we removed to the Little Nore, where the purser, surgeon, lieutenant of marines, gunner and carpenter quitted the ship. On the 24th we sailed from the Nore, and on the 25th anchored in the Downs. We quitted it with a convoy on the 28th, and arrived at Spithead the following morning. Here the first lieutenant was superseded by Mr Thomas Edwards. On the 6th of August we sailed from Spithead, and on the 7th anchored in Plymouth Sound. Here we remained till the 9th, when we proceeded down channel. On the 10th we took our departure from the Lizard, and once more I bade adieu to the British shore. I will not say that I quitted it with regret. I dearly loved England, in spite of all her faults, but I believed that I might on the other side of the Atlantic have a prospect of meeting with Madeline Carlyon, or at all events of hearing of her, and that alone was ample inducement to me gladly to encounter all the dangers and hardships to which I might be exposed.

Many others have, I suppose, thought and felt and hoped as I did, and many others have been disappointed.

“Hurrah for the West Indies—Spanish galleons—dark-eyed Creoles and prize-money!” was the general toast on board the Charon.

Chapter Twenty One.

Put into Cork harbour.—Sail with convoy.—Capture of the Compte D’Artois.—Arrive off Charleston.—British troops made prisoners.—Sail for New York.—Hear of Madeline through my hostess the Dutch widow.—Receive General Arnold and his men on board fleet.—In command of Arrow.—Reach the Chesapeake.—Hear of hurricane in the West Indies.—Loss of Thunderer, 74, and other ships.

Instead of at once proceeding on her voyage across the Atlantic, the old Charon was, we found, ordered to put into Cork harbour. We arrived at that port on the 11th of August, 1780, and found there HM’s ships Lennox, Bienfaisant, Licorne, and Hussar, with a hundred sail of transports.

Before I recount the events of our voyage I may as well make a few remarks about the ship and my brother-officers. Captain Symonds was himself a thorough sailor, and he showed his love of his profession by sending four of his sons into the navy. His eldest son, Jermyn John Symonds, was, though very young, our third lieutenant,—a fine, handsome fellow. He was afterwards, when in command of the Helena sloop-of-war, lost with all his crew in her on the coast of Holland. Another son, William, (see Note 1), though at that time a mere child, was, I believe, borne on our books as a midshipman. It was with no small satisfaction that I welcomed my old friend Paddy O’Driscoll, who came on board as a supernumerary, to rejoin his ship on the American station. I welcomed him the more gladly as so few of my old shipmates I was ever likely to meet again. Where were they? The deep sea—West India marshes—the shot of the enemy best could tell. But avast! I have bad enough of sentiment in these pages. I must not indulge in this vein. The rest of our officers were fine, gallant fellows, knowing their duty, and ready and able on all occasions to do it. What more can you ask of a man? Having a gentleman, and a kind, good man as our captain, our ship was a very pleasant and happy one, and that is more than can be said of many ships in my day. Captains were of necessity despots, and as they had very rough, untutored, disorderly subjects to deal with, too often very cruel, hard-hearted despots they were.

The day after our arrival at Cork we once more weighed and stood out of the harbour with the Bienfaisant, Captain McBride, having under our charge about seventy sail of victuallers bound for America. That ship and the Licorne had orders to escort us sixty leagues to the westward. We lay-to all night outside the harbour, waiting for the rest of the squadron to join us, which the Licorne and Hussar had been directed to bring up. We had drifted pretty well down to the old Head of Kinsale when, as the morning of the 13th of August broke upon us, we saw standing right into the fleet a large two-decked ship.

“If that fellow is an enemy he certainly does not seem to know what he is about,” observed Mr Edwards to me. “Does he expect to carry off some of our flock without our even barking at him? But see, Captain McBride is speaking us. What does he say?”

The signal midshipman on duty replied that he was ordering us to come within hail. We accordingly made sail towards the Bienfaisant, when Captain McBride directed us to join with him in chasing the stranger. Not till then apparently did she make us out from among the fleet of vessels crowding round us, shrouded, as we were, with the grey mists of the morning. We were all scrutinising her through our glasses, for it was still very uncertain what she might prove. Even when we stood out from among the fleet of merchantmen she gave no signs of any strong disposition to evade us, but steadily continued her course.

“She must be some English privateer. No Frenchman with a head on his shoulders would run it so near the lion’s den,” remarked Edwards.

“Faith, then, I don’t believe he’s got a head on his shoulders. That’s a French ship, depend on it,” observed O’Driscoll.

Some time longer passed before we got near the chase, for the wind was light. At half-past seven, to our great satisfaction, we saw her shorten sail and get ready, it appeared, to receive us. On this the Bienfaisant hoisted her colours and fired a shot ahead of her. We also hoisted our colours. The chase on this hoisted a blue ensign and hove-to with main-topsail to the mast. On our getting within hail of her, we and the Bienfaisant did the same, when Captain McBride spoke her and inquired her name.

“HMS ‘Romney,’” was the answer. “Last from Lisbon.”

“I told you so,” observed Mr Edwards, when the words reached us. “She’s a fifty-gun ship, I know, though I never saw her that I know of.”

“But that ship carries more than fifty-guns if I mistake not,” I replied. “Listen! Captain McBride is again speaking her.”

“What does she say?” asked Edwards, as some words, the import of which we could not make out, came wafted over the water towards no.

Our people, I ought to have remarked, were all at their quarters ready for friend or foe—and grim, determined-looking veterans many of them looked, with their sun-burnt faces and bearded chins.

“What does she say?” exclaimed O’Driscoll. “Why, listen!—that she’s French, and going to fight for the honour of la belle France. See, our consort’s beginning the game.”

As he spoke, a volley of musketry was opened from the deck of the Bienfaisant, which was replied to in the most spirited way by the other ship, she at the same time hoisting French colours, and firing her stern-chasers at us. The Bienfaisant now ranged up alongside and fired her broadside right into the enemy. The Frenchman then fired hers, and by the way her shot flew we judged that her object was to cripple her opponent. We now stood on after the Bienfaisant, and as we ranged up fired our guns with terrible effect right across our enemy’s decks. Then on we stood, while our consort had in the meantime tacked and reached the place we had before occupied. In a short time she once more ranged up alongside the Frenchman, and poured a heavy broadside into him. Thus we continued, alternately changing places with each other. We suffered wonderfully little damage for some time. The Frenchman’s great aim was to wing us. He evidently fought not for victory, for he must have seen that was almost hopeless, but to escape capture. Never was a ship better handled or fought with more gallantry. For some time no one was hurt on board the Charon. At last one poor fellow got hit, and soon afterwards some blocks and splinters came rattling down from aloft. The mizen-topsail yard came down by the run, and I saw that it had been shot away in the slings. Tremendous was the pounding we were giving our enemy, but still he showed not the slightest intention of giving in. His deck was already covered with the dead and wounded, and the ship herself was in a very battered condition.

“That man is one of the bravest officers I ever encountered,” observed Captain Symonds, pointing to the captain of the French ship, whom we could see moving about, encouraging his people.

“I wonder whether he intends to give in at all!” said Mr Edwards as we prepared to pour another broadside into him.

“Not a bit of it; he has as much pluck as at the first left in him,” exclaimed O’Driscoll, as the thunder of our artillery once more ceased.

I could not help longing that, for the sake of the lives of his people, the French captain would give in. The action had now lasted from a quarter to eight to half-past eight. Of course the time appeared very much longer. The Bienfaisant was about to pour in another of her broadsides which had already produced such fearful effects. The deck of the Frenchman was truly a shamble; not a spot appeared free from some dead or wounded occupant. Just then the crew, fearful of encountering another iron shower, fled from their guns. Down came the Fleur-de-lys of France. Shouts arose from the deck of the Bienfaisant, which were loudly and joyfully echoed from ours. All three ships were now hove-to. On hailing our prize we found that we had captured “Le Compte D’Artois,” a private ship of war of sixty-four guns and seven hundred and fifty men, commanded by Monsieur Clenard.

A boat from each ship was sent on board. I went in the Charon’s. The brave captain of the Compte D’Artois came forward and delivered his sword to the lieutenant of the Bienfaisant. He was desperately wounded in the mouth, and he looked very sad; he had reason so to be, for his brother, a colonel of the Legion of Artois, lay dead on the deck, having been wounded early in the action, while he had lost no less than one hundred and nineteen killed and wounded of his brave crew. All his property, too, had probably been embarked in the enterprise. Many other people in the same way lost their fortunes during the war. They thought that they had only to fit out a ship of war and that they were certain to gain great wealth. They forgot that two might play at the same game, and that they were just as likely to fall into the hands of their enemies as to capture them. Poor monsieur had another brother on board. I did not exaggerate when I said that the deck of his ship was like a perfect shamble. So quickly had the poor Frenchmen been struck down that the survivors had not had time to carry them below, and there they lay, some stark and stiff, others writhing in their agony. It was enough to move the compassion even of their greatest enemies. We at once set to work to do all we could to help them and to relieve the wounded from their sufferings. Every one felt also much for poor Monsieur Clenard, for a braver man never commanded a ship or fought her longer, till not a prospect of escape remained for him. Strange as it may appear, we had only one man wounded, while the Bienfaisant had only two killed and two wounded. This extraordinary difference in the Frenchman’s loss and ours arose from two causes. He wished to escape, and fired high to try and destroy our spars and rigging; and also his crew, collected chiefly from the merchant service, and from boatmen and fishermen who had never till lately handled a gun, and having also a considerable proportion of landsmen among them, were in no way a match for our well-trained and hardy seamen. The ship was handled as well as she could be, while nothing could exceed the gallantry of her officers; her crew also fought with the greatest bravery, as indeed Frenchmen generally will fight, though perhaps not with the same bull-dog determination as the English. We agreed that when the French had had more practice, and had learned a few lessons from us, they would prove much tougher customers than they had hitherto been.

There was great cheering and congratulation on board the ships of the convoy as they came up, and in a short time the rest of them joined us with the Licorne and Hussar. In the interval the crew of the Compte D’Artois were transferred to the Bienfaisant, and she and her prize stood away for Crookhaven in Ireland. We, meantime, with the other two ships and the convoy, made sail for the westward. We had generally on the passage moderate gales and fine pleasant weather.

On the 12th a strange sail was seen to leeward, beating up towards us. She was after a time made out to be a ship of some size, probably watching her opportunity to pick off any stragglers in the fleet. To prevent this Captain Symonds ordered the Hussar to chase her away, we making as if we were about to follow. Seeing this, the stranger put up her helm and ran off before the wind, while the Hussar crowded all sail in chase. We watched her with no little interest, for the stranger was evidently a big ship, and, if the Hussar brought her to action, would very likely prove a powerful antagonist—not that odds, however great, were much thought of in those days, and I will take upon myself to say that there was scarcely an officer in the service in command of a fifty-gun frigate who would not have considered himself fortunate in having an opportunity of engaging an enemy’s ship of sixty guns or more. In a short time the sails of the chase and her pursuer disappeared below the horizon. The night closed in and passed away; the next day drew on and we saw nothing of the Hussar. Another day passed away and she did not make her appearance. Conjectures as to what had become of her now formed the general subject of conversation on board, but, like all conjectures, when there is no data on which to build up a conclusion, we always left off where we began, and waited till she came back, if ever she should do so, to tell her own tale.

O’Driscoll and I had now become great friends. I own that I wanted some one to whom I could talk to about my love for Madeline. With all his fun and humour and harum-scarum manner, he was a thoroughly honourable right-minded fellow, and I knew that I could trust him. He was delighted with the romance of the affair.

“If you can but point our where she is, by hook or by crook, I’ll help you to win her,” said he, in his full rich irish brogue. “You’ve already a pretty lot of prize-money, and please the pigs you’ll pick up not a little more before long. Where there’s a will there’s a way, that’s one comfort; and, by my faith, what I’ve seen of some of those little rebel colonists, they are well worth winning.”

It may amuse my sober-minded readers, when they reflect on all the difficulties, not to say impossibilities, which existed in my way, to think that O’Driscoll and I should ever dream of overcoming them. But they must remember that we were both very young, and that in the navy such things as impossibilities are not allowed to exist. During how many a midnight watch did my love serve me as a subject for contemplation, and, when I was occasionally joined by O’Driscoll, for conversation also! Although I was on excellent terms with the rest of my brother-officers, I never felt inclined to open out to any of them. Perhaps it was a weakness in me to do so even to O’Driscoll, and, as a general rule, I think a man is wise to keep such thoughts to himself.

Day after day passed by and our missing consort did not make her appearance. A whole week elapsed, and we began to entertain serious apprehensions about her, and to fear that she had been captured. Our course had been so direct, and the weather so fine, that she would have had no difficulty, we considered, in rejoining us. At length a sail appeared standing towards the fleet. She was not one of the convoy, for all were together. Every glass on board was turned towards her. As the stranger drew nearer and nearer we were more and more puzzled to make out what she was.

“I see, I see!” exclaimed O’Driscoll at last. “She is a frigate and under jury-top-masts. She has been in a smart action. I see the shot-holes through her canvas. There can be no mistake about the matter. She is the ‘Hussar,’ I believe, after all.”

On she came towards us, and the Hussar she proved to be; but the trim little frigate which she had been when she left us a week before was now sadly shorn of her beauty. As soon as she came up with the fleet Captain Symonds sent me on board to inquire what had happened. The story was soon told. She had fought a very desperate and gallant action, which, by-the-bye, I have never seen recorded in any naval history. She, it must be remembered, was only an eight-and-twenty gun frigate. The stranger after which she had been sent in chase, when she had drawn her completely away from the squadron, backed his main-topsail to the mast and waited, prepared for battle, till she came up. The enemy was soon made out to be a French forty-gun frigate, but that disparity of fores did not deter her gallant captain from proceeding to the attack. Ranging up within pistol-shot she opened her broadside, to which the Frenchman quickly replied in the same way with equal spirit. As was the case in our action with the Compte D’Artois, the Frenchmen fired high, evidently with the idea that, by crippling their opponent, they might have her at their mercy. This system might under some instances be very good, but, unfortunately for them, they frequently themselves got so completely thrashed before they had succeeded in accomplishing their purpose, that they had to cry peccavi and haul down their flags. The gallant little Hussar had no intention of running away, and therefore poured her broadsides into the hull of the Frenchman, committing great havoc along his decks. The action was continued for some time with great guns and musketry, every man in the English frigate striving his utmost to gain the victory. Numbers of the gallant fellows were struck down—some never to rise again, others desperately wounded. Each attempt of the Frenchman was bravely repulsed, and every shot fired was responded to with still greater vigour. Still the captain of the Hussar could not help watching the progress of the fight with the greatest anxiety. Already two of her top-masts had been shot away, her lower-masts were wounded, and five or six of her crew lay dead, while as many more were hurt. Still he had determined not to give in as long as his ship would float. The Frenchmen had already suffered severely, but it was impossible to say how long their endurance might last. He had no doubt that they had lost far more in killed and wounded than he had, and he saw that they had some shot between wind and water, and that their rigging was much cut up. All this gave him hopes that he might yet come off victorious. Again he ranged up alongside his big antagonist and received her fire while he delivered his own. Down came his mizen-top-mast by the run—several more of his crew fell to the deck—his rigging hung in festoons—his canvas was full of shot-holes. He thought to himself, “Ought I to sacrifice the lives of my people in a hopeless contest? But is it hopeless? No, it is not. Hurrah, my brave fellows! One broadside more, and we shall do for the enemy!” he shouted loudly. The combatants were standing on a bow-line alongside each other. Once more the Hussar fired. The Frenchman returned her broadside, and then, before the smoke cleared off and the English had time to reload to rake her, put up her helm and ran off before the wind. The Hussar was not in a condition to follow. She, however, kept firing at the Frenchman as long as her shot could reach him, and then hauled her wind and stood away to the westward after us. She had seven killed and six badly wounded, besides other hurts. She had lost her three top-masts, while her lower-masts were disabled. Fortunately the weather was fine, for had she encountered a gale of wind her condition would have been bad indeed. I have never, as I have said, seen an account of this very gallant action in any naval history, and I therefore give it as it was described to me by the officers of the Hussar.

On the 14th of October we arrived off Charleston, South Carolina, with our whole convoy, after a favourable passage of nine weeks, and we were congratulating ourselves on its successful termination, little thinking what was to be the fate of many of the ships of the fleet. Charleston stands on a broad neck of land, with Cooper’s river on one side and Ashley river on the other. They flow into a wide sheet of water, which forms the harbour of Charleston, but which is shallow, and has a bar at its mouth, on which there is very little water.

This, on our arrival, we could not cross, and the convoy had consequently to anchor outside. Charleston had, after a brave defence on the 12th of May, been captured from the Americans under General Lincoln by Sir Henry Howe and Lord Cornwallis. The latter on our arrival commanded the army which held it. Sir Henry, with part of his forces, had gone to New York. The capture of Charleston was considered a very fortunate circumstance, and it was believed that in consequence the whole of the Carolinas would yield to our arms. Never perhaps were people more mistaken. The day of our arrival at Charleston I accompanied Captain Symonds on shore. We went to the house where a friend of his, Colonel Balfour, had taken up his quarters. He most kindly received us, and invited us to his table whenever we were on shore. We slept, however, at one of the largest houses in the place, occupied by Lord Cornwallis. His lordship had just returned from an unsuccessful expedition to North Carolina, where a force of nearly a thousand men, regulars and royalists, under Colonel Ferguson, who was killed, had been taken prisoners by the Americans; many also lost their lives with their leader. Colonel Ferguson had made a foray into North Carolina, and in his retreat had been surprised among the fastnesses of the mountains by an overwhelming force of the most hardy and brave of the irregular troops of the neighbouring districts, especially accustomed to the sort of warfare in which they were called on to engage. Colonel Ferguson was a very brave and good officer, and Lord Cornwallis took his defeat and death very much to heart. As we had executed some of the rebels who, after receiving royal passes, were taken in arms against us, so now the Americans in retaliation hung several of the royalists who were captured on this occasion. In consequence of this there was, we found, a great deal of bitter feeling in the town against the rebels, and in no time had the contest been carried on in so sanguinary a way as at present.

We were aroused at daybreak by the sound of a terrifically heavy gale which had sprung up, and in going down to the harbour we found that the bar was perfectly impassable, while the ships at anchor off it were in a great state of confusion. Some were striking top-masts and letting go fresh anchors, in the hopes of riding out the gale, while others were slipping or cutting their cables, and running out to sea, several of them getting foul of each other and committing all sorts of damage. It was not till the 20th that the weather moderated sufficiently to enable us to get off to rejoin our ship. By degrees some of the ships of the convoy which had run to sea came back, but several never returned, having been captured by the enemy or lost.

On the 22nd we again sailed from Charleston with a convoy of fifty sail of transports, bound for New York. On our passage we captured a rebel privateer of eight guns and fifty men, and took a merchant brig bound from London to Charleston with bale goods. We found at Sandy Hook, where we arrived on the 4th of November, Sir George Rodney, with eight sail of the line and several frigates, waiting for a wind to sail for the West Indies. The following day we proceeded through the Narrows up to New York, where we set to work to refit the ship for sea,—an operation she very much required. I need not say that I employed my time on shore in endeavouring to gain intelligence of Miss Carlyon and her family. In making my inquiries I had, however, to exert great caution, for I knew that I might very easily bring upon myself the suspicion of corresponding with the enemy for treasonable purposes. When I slept on shore I went to the house of a worthy Dutch widow, where I had before lodged. I did my utmost to ingratiate myself with her, for I knew that if any one could obtain the information I required she would do so. Old women, I have found, nearly always are ready to listen with complacency and attention to the love tales of young men or young women, and so my kind hostess not only listened to as much of mine as I thought it necessary to tell her, but gladly promised to assist me to the best of her ability.

“And now, my dear Mrs Von Tromp, what news have you for me?” I asked eagerly one day as I walked into her little back parlour where she received her select visitors. Considering her origin, she spoke excellent English.

“Listen!” she replied; “I have not learned much for you, but what I have learned you may believe is the truth. I lately had a talk with a Virginian gentleman. Do not be afraid, sir, for he is a neutral; no rebel I ever talk with. He knows the family of the lady you want to hear about. He heard them speaking of her not long ago; she is unmarried, and they thought she would remain so. She was then in Virginia with her father, who is a very active rebel, you know.”

Not listening to her last remark, the thought at once struck me that I would write to her to assure her of my constancy, and would try to send my letter by means of the gentleman Mrs Von Tromp mentioned. My good hostess was, however, terrified when I made the proposal.

“Oh, dear—no, no, it would never do!” she explained. “It would be a great deal too dangerous to attempt. The letter would be intercepted, and we should be accused of corresponding with the enemy, and some of us would be hung to a certainty. Just think, how should you like to suffer the fate of poor Major André? Ah, poor young gentleman! he was, indeed, a fine, handsome man—or almost a boy, I might say—he looked so young; he was so civil and polite and kind. I can’t think of his cruel death without crying, that I can’t.”

Major André had been captured by the Americans, having crossed into their territory for the purpose of communicating with General Arnold, who succeeded in escaping from them and joining the British forces. He was considered as a spy, and as such, tried, condemned, and had just before this been executed—his hard fate creating much commiseration even in the bosoms of his enemies. He was fully as brave, talented, polite, and accomplished in every way as the widow described him. I assured her that I had no wish to share his lamentable fate, but that, as I was not holding any treasonable correspondence with the enemy, I could not be found guilty of so doing. I argued the subject with her for some time.

“Ah, you know the way to an old woman’s heart as well as to that of a young one!” at last exclaimed the good-natured dame. “I cannot refuse you. Write the letter, and I will do my best to forward it. But be careful what you say. Nothing but love, remember, nothing but love—don’t forget that.”

“No fear, no fear,” I answered, laughing. “I’ll stick to my text, depend on it.”

“I don’t doubt you, and a pretty long one it will be, I suspect,” she remarked, as I got up to go off to my room. “When it is ready, bring it to me. I will do my best, and if it does not reach its destination, that is no fault of mine.”

I hurried up-stairs to the room I slept in, and was soon deeply immersed in the occupation of writing a letter to Madeline. I had no fears how it would be received, so I seized my pen, and, after a few moments’ thought, wrote on. Once having begun, my pen flew rapidly over the paper, but not so rapidly as my thoughts. When I had covered the sheet I had not said one quarter of what I wished to say. I took another and another. At last I finished and folded them up.

“Umph!” said the widow, when I took the package to her. “You will want a special courier and a pack-horse to carry this document—but don’t frown now, I am only joking. I am sure that the young lady is well worthy of the letter, and that you have not said a word more than she will be glad to hear.”

I was not in a humour to quarrel with Madame Von Tromp for anything she might say. Leaving my precious letter with her, I hurried away to attend to my duties on board my ship. At this time Admiral Arbuthnot’s squadron was lying in Gardner’s Bay, at the other end of Long Island. On the 9th, Sir Henry Howe having some important despatches to send to the admiral, the gallant little Hussar was directed to get under weigh to convey them.

Little did I think at the time that, after all she had gone through, we should see her no more. I have already described the dangerous passage of Hell Gate, where already, in consequence of the fearful rapidity of the currents, so many vessels had been lost. I watched the Hussar get under weigh. I had hoped to take the trip in her, for I had some old friends on board different ships in the squadron whom I wished to see, and I was rather annoyed at not being able to get leave to go. That was one of the numberless instances where I have discovered how little we mortals know what is good for us. To make a long story short, for I cannot now stop to give a full description of the accident, in going through that justly-dreaded passage the Hussar met with baffling winds, and, the currents catching her, sent her bodily on the rocks. Thus she became utterly helpless. No seamanship could avail her. The short, chopping, boiling sea dashed over her and beat her to pieces. Before hawsers could be got to the shore, by which her crew could make their escape, several of the poor fellows had been drowned. In the boisterous and bitterly cold weather of that season many of them suffered much before they got back to New York.

Once more we were ready for sea, and on the 2nd of December we hoisted Admiral Arbuthnot’s flag, and, proceeding to Statten Island, we were joined by HMS Thames, Charlestown, Medea, Amphitrite, Fowey, Hope, Bonetta, Swift, and several armed vessels.

I was just now speaking of the death of Major André, who was captured by the Americans when communicating with General Arnold. That officer had deserted the liberal cause, and, having succeeded in reaching the British lines in safety, had now been appointed a brigadier-general in our army. On the 3rd we received him on board with two troops distributed among the ships of the squadron. All we knew was, that some expedition of importance was to be undertaken, but on what part of the coast the descent was to be made did not transpire. I do not believe that the commanders on our side put much confidence in General Arnold, and of course the Americans, whose cause he had so basely betrayed, perfectly detested him. Had he, by the chances of war, fallen into their hands, they would have treated him as they had done poor André.

We sailed from New York on the 12th of December. In order to deceive the enemy, and to make them believe that an expedition of very great importance was about to be undertaken, we kept the admiral’s flag flying till we were out of sight of land. A course was steered to the southward; it was then understood that we were bound for the Chesapeake, and it was supposed that a landing would be made somewhere on the shores of Virginia. I scarcely knew whether to grieve or to rejoice at the prospect thus held out to me. Of course, I could not but regret that my countrymen were about to carry the war into the very part of the country where Madeline, I believed, was residing; at the same time, under the supposition that such would be done, I rejoiced at the thoughts that I might meet her, or might render her or her family assistance. Still I would not venture to reckon much on the prospect of our meeting. Numberless circumstances might intervene to prevent it. I might not even be sent on shore. I might not go near where she might be residing, or, what was probable, her friends might gain tidings of the expedition, when she would, with other ladies, move away more into the interior. Still, notwithstanding these considerations, I could not help indulging myself in the belief that, by some means or other, we should meet once again, or, at all events, that I should gain tidings of her, and be able to communicate with her. The very idea gave buoyancy to my step and manner, and made many of my companions inquire what had put me in such unusual spirits.

O’Driscoll had returned on board, having again joined the ship as a supernumerary, and as an old tried friend he entered, and, I believe, heartily, into all my hopes and fears. Some of his plans and proposals, however, though very much in accordance with the notions of Irishmen in those days, were not such, even with all my harum-scarum habits, which I could by any possibility adopt.

“Hurry, my boy, I have been thinking over this affair of yours,” said he, as we were walking the deck together. “I don’t like shilly-shallying in matters of this sort—I never did. The lady loves you, and you love the lady—well, then, to my mind, the first difficulty is got over, because, according to my notion, where there’s a will there’s a way. You’ll find her out, that’s certain. Then the next thing to be done is to get her to run away with you. She’ll go, depend on that. You take her prisoner, you know! Bring her aboard; we’ll get a chaplain to splice you. You can take her up to New York; she’ll be safe there. And then we come to another little matter; I’ve arranged that in a satisfactory way. You’ve some prize-money. I’ve saved a good mint one way and another, and, old fellow, I don’t want it—my purse is yours. Old messmates don’t stand on ceremony about such matters. My own dear little Kathleen, the only creature I wanted it for, went to glory while I was last at sea. When I got home I was desolate. I’ve no kith nor kin I care for, and if you don’t take the money it’s likely enough I’ll heave it into the sea one of these days, or pitch it where it won’t do any one any good, so don’t think that I am doing you any wonderful favour if you take it. The truth is, Hurry, I’d be more than paid ten times over in having the pleasure of helping you to run off with the lady. I’m in my element in an affair of this sort—there’s nothing I like better, barring a good stand-up scrimmage, and that’s generally too soon over. Now, Hurry, just do as I say. Promise me!”

I was struck dumb; so rapidly did he pour out his proposals that I could not answer him. He took my silence for consent, and ran on. At first I was somewhat inclined to resent his remarks, but his generosity and evident unconsciousness that he was proposing anything in any way incorrect completely disarmed my anger, and, when he ceased speaking, greatly to his surprise, I burst out into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

“I am most thankful, my dear O’Driscoll, for your kind sympathy, and for the assistance you so liberally offer me,” I exclaimed, as soon as I could recover myself. “But supposing I could or would persuade her to leave her home, and the protection of her family, just consider all the hardships, inconveniences, and danger she would be exposed to on board ship before I could place her in safety; and then, how could she, delicately brought up, live on a lieutenant’s pay, even with such prize-money as I might save, and your aid, my kind fellow!” I added. “No, no! the thing is out of the question.”

“Faith, I hadn’t thought all about those little obstructions to matrimonial felicity,” he answered. “Still I can’t give up the idea, in case the chance should offer, of your running away with the young lady. It seems such a natural thing to do. There’s a fine fellow, be prepared, that’s all—and only just let me help you.”

“Well, well! I have no friend on whom I can more fully rely than you,” I replied. “I promise you that I will not fail to apply to you if I see that you can in any way help me.”

“That’s all right,” said he, fully satisfied. “I knew that you would, before long, come into my views.”

Our passage to the south was very tedious, for we had light winds, sad were also constantly compelled to heave-to for the laggards.

Soon after the conversation I have mentioned, on the 23rd of December, it being still calm, one of the leading ships signalled that a ship and four small sail were in sight to the southward, and that they had all the appearance of enemies. We, accordingly, crowded all sail in chase, but scarcely had we got beyond the van of the fleet when it became evident that, at the rate we were progressing, we should not come up with the chase before dark. We had, in company, a small privateer schooner fitted with long sweeps, and which rowed remarkably well. Captain Symonds directed her by signal to come within hail, and then ordered me to take thirty men and go on board her and to proceed in chase of the strangers.

“If they prove to be enemies,” said he, “bring them to action, and keep them engaged at long range, knocking away their spars, if you can, so that they cannot escape till we come up. If we take the ship, as I have no doubt we shall, I will give you the command of her to take her to New York. She is evidently a big craft, and will be worth not a little.”

I suspect that it was with no good grace that I thanked the captain for the confidence he placed in me. He looked surprised, I thought, but said nothing. Under other circumstances I should have been well pleased with the task confided to me, but now, when I had set my heart on landing on the shores of Virginia, suddenly to find that I might have to go back to New York was a sore trial to me. Little do we know, however, what is the best for us. As soon as the Arrow privateer came up, I and my crew went on board, and, getting out all the long sweeps, away we pulled in chase of the strangers. Every man put his full strength into the work, and we sent the little vessel along at the rate of fully three knots an hour. We felt as if we were going at a great speed, and we rapidly neared the strangers. Little did I think in those days that in my old age I should see vessels sent along in a dead calm without the slightest exertion of human agency at four or five times that speed. We kept minutely examining the strangers as we drew near. One was a man-of-war—of that there was no doubt; the others were merchantmen, probably, under her convoy. Still she did not show her colours. The Arrow carried a couple of unusually long guns, and I fully expected to commit great execution with them. They were all ready. Nol Grampus had charge of one of them. We had got within range of the ship. I hoisted English colours. The ship showed none in return. I waited a minute longer. The word “fire” was on my lips when up went the British ensign at her peak. Still I was not convinced till she made the private signal.

Never perhaps in my life before had I been so satisfied at finding a friend instead of an enemy. She proved to be HMS Royal Oak, the other vessels being prizes she had taken. Two days after this we took two other prizes, the charge of which was given to Lieutenants Seymour and Bruton. Their absence of course gave me much more work to do—not a bad thing, perhaps, under my circumstances. The following day a heavy gale of wind sprang up, and we separated from the fleet as well as from our prizes. We were knocking about for three days somewhat concerned for the fate of the convoy. There were so many privateers cruising about, that it was likely some of them could be picked off, and if any of the transports were taken or lost, the whole plan of the expedition might be disconcerted. General Arnold especially was in a state of considerable anxiety for several reasons. If this, his first expedition, should fail, he could scarcely expect his new friends to trust him again, while if by any accident he should fall into the hands of those whose cause he had betrayed, he knew full well the fate which awaited him. He was, I believe, a man possessed of considerable military talents and of general ability, but he wanted principle; and his extravagant habits placed him in difficulties from which he saw no ordinary way of extricating himself. He had just put forth an elaborate address to the inhabitants of America, not only excusing his conduct, but taking great credit for the motives which had induced him to join the King’s arms. He stated that he had taken up arms to redress grievances, and that those grievances no longer existed, because Great Britain, with the open arms of a parent, offered to embrace the colonists as children, and grant them the wished-for redress. Her worst enemies, he told them, were in the bosom of America. The French alliance, he assured them, was calculated not only to ruin the mother-country, but the colonies themselves; and that the heads of the rebellion, neglecting to take the sentiments of the people at large, had refused to accept the British proposals for peace; that for his part, rather than trust to the insidious offers of France, “I preferred,” he continues, “those of Great Britain, thinking it infinitely wiser and safer to place my confidence in her justice and generosity than to trust a monarchy too feeble to establish your independency, so perilous to her distant dominions; the enemy of the Protestant faith, and fraudulently avowing an affection for the liberties of mankind while she holds her native sons in vassalage and chains.” He winds up by stating his conviction that it was the generous intention of Great Britain not only to leave the rights and privileges of the colonies unimpaired, together with their perpetual exemption from taxation, but to superadd such further benefits as might be consistent with the common prosperity of the empire; and then he says, “I am now led to devote my life to the reunion of the British Empire as the best and only means to dry up the streams of misery that have deluged this country.”

We had numberless copies of this address on board, ready to be distributed throughout the country whenever we should effect a landing. That was far from a pleasant time we had on our voyage. Not only had we the effects of the gale to dread, but we were aware that a French squadron was not far-off; and we were kept constantly on the look-out in the unpleasant expectation of falling in with them, and having to take to flight or of undergoing a still worse fate, and of falling into their hands. Many people, in my day especially, had an idea that ships were fated to be lucky or unlucky, either because they were launched on a Friday, or that their keel was laid on a Friday, or that they were cursed when building or when about to sail, or had a Jonas on board, or for some other equally cogent reason. I always found that a bad captain and master and a careless crew was the Jonas most to be dreaded, and that to ill-fit and ill-find a ship was the worst curse which could be bestowed on her. I should have been considered a great heretic if I had publicly expressed such opinions in my younger days; indeed, I probably did not think of them as I do now. The Charon was considered a lucky ship, or, in other words, Captain Symonds was a careful commander, and so few on board had any fear of our falling in with an overpowering enemy or meeting with any other mishap. They could not as yet be proved to be wrong; the gale abated on the 28th. The following day the weather became moderate and fair, and we rejoined the fleet off the capes at the entrance of the Chesapeake. We found the squadron augmented by the arrival of two or three ships from the West India station. These were to have joined to take part in the operations about to be commenced, but the terrific hurricane which had lately raged over those regions had either totally destroyed or disabled so many, that no others were then in a fit condition to proceed to our assistance. Several of the officers came on board of us, among them many old friends of mine, and from them I gathered some accounts of that tremendous visitation.

It first broke on the Island of Jamaica, at the little seaport town of Savannah-la-Mer. That hapless place, with the adjacent country, was almost entirely overwhelmed by the sea, which rushed in over it with tremendous force, driven on by the fury of a tempest whose force has rarely been surpassed. The gale began at about one o’clock in the afternoon from the south-east, increasing in violence till four p.m., when it veered to the south, then reaching its height, and continued thus till eight, when it began to abate. Terrible was the havoc committed in these few hours. The waves, raised to a height never before witnessed, foaming and roaring, rushed with irresistible impetuosity towards the land, sweeping into the bay and carrying before it every building it encountered; numbers of the inhabitants it overtook being drowned, while the rest fled shrieking before it for safety to the Savannah. There the ruins only of houses remained to afford them shelter. To add to the horror of the scene, lightning of the most vivid description flashed from the skies—the wind and waves howled and roared in concert—darkness came on, and the earth itself shook and trembled as if about to swallow up those whom the waters or their falling habitations had spared. The smaller vessels at anchor in the bay were driven on shore and dashed to pieces, and the largest were torn from their anchors and carried up far into the morass, whence they could never be removed. One ship, the Princess Royal, was hove on her beam-ends, but again righted by the earthquake or by the force of the wind, and was left fixed firmly in the ground.

With the morning light the scene of destruction presented to the eyes of the survivors was truly heart-rending. The ground where the town had stood was strewed with the mangled forms of the dead and dying, scattered among the fragments of their dwellings. Scarcely a roof remained whole or a wall standing. Of all the sugar-works none remained; the plantain walks were destroyed; every cane-piece was levelled; and some hundred people, whites and negroes, were killed. In Montego Bay, and indeed throughout the island, the consequences of the tempest were equally disastrous. But if people on shore suffered thus, still more melancholy was the fate of the numerous fleets which came within its influence. Those of England, France, and Spain equally suffered; many being wrecked, and others foundering with all hands.

The hurricane did not reach the Leeward Islands till the 19th. It raged at Bridgetown, Barbadoes, from the 10th to the 16th, with no less fury than elsewhere. The evening of the 9th was particularly calm, though a glow of an unusual red appeared in the sky, and heavy rain began to fall. On the morning of the 10th the hurricane began, and by the afternoon the Albemarle frigate and all the merchantmen in the bay parted from their anchors and drove to sea. By night the fury of the tempest had reached its utmost height, and dreadful were the consequences. It is impossible to describe the scenes of horror and distress occurring on every side. A friend of mine was at the house of the governor, which was a circular building with very thick walls. The roof, however, soon began to fall in, and the family were compelled to take shelter in the cellar. The water, however, speedily found its way there, and, rising four feet, drove them into the open air, through showers of tiles and bricks and timber falling on every side. They at last took shelter under a gun-carriage, but several guns were dismounted, and every instant they dreaded being crushed by the one under which they were sitting. They were close, also, to the powder magazine. A flash of lightning might destroy them in a moment. The armoury had been already blown down, and all the arms and stores and other things in it were scattered around. No place seemed safe, for whole roofs were lifted up, and beams were blown about like feathers, and darted with violence to the ground: so that the roar of the elements, the crashing made by the falling houses, and the shrieks of the inhabitants, were almost more than human courage could bear.

All waited anxiously looking for the dawn of day, but the light only exhibited a scene which made them wish that it were again dark. Only ruin and desolation were visible on every side; houses overthrown, trees and plantations levelled, the ground strewed with dead bodies, and the shore covered with wrecks. At the other islands life and property suffered equally. At Saint Pierre, in Martinique, the new hospital of Notre Dame was blown down, overwhelming 1600 patients, and 1400 other houses were destroyed. In Fort Royal Bay four ships foundered, and every soul perished. At Saint Lucia the destruction was very great. His Majesty’s ship Amazon was driven to sea and most miraculously escaped foundering. She was commanded by the Honourable Captain William Clement Finch. An old friend of mine, one of the lieutenants, gave me the following account:—

“We saw by the look of the weather that a hurricane was coming on, but while we were making everything snug it was down upon us, and we were driven from our anchors, happily out to sea, instead of on the shore. We at once got the ship under storm staysails, and as long as the canvas held she behaved admirably; but as night drew on the gale increased and every stitch of canvas was blown from the bolt-ropes. It is impossible to describe the terrific fury of the gale by this time. One thing was very clear, that if we did not cut away the masts they would either go by the board, or she herself, from her terrific labouring, would go down. The captain evidently did not like to cripple the ship by cutting away the masts, and kept waiting in the hopes that the gale was at its height and would soon abate. Vain was the hope. The gale, on the contrary, kept increasing. At last he sent them aloft to cut away the main-topmast. Quick as lightning they flew to obey the order, for they well knew how much depended on its execution. Scarcely were they aloft when the hurricane struck us with greater fury than ever.

“‘Down, down, for your lives!’ shouted the captain; ‘the mainmast must go.’

“While we were waiting for the men to come down—and never did a few moments of my life appear so long, for I knew that every single one was of importance—a terrific gust struck the ship. Over she heeled; down, down she went.

“‘She’s gone, she’s gone!’ shrieked out many on deck.

“I hoped that she would lift again, but she did not. Lower and lower she sank. All who were on deck, captain, officers and crew, who could manage it, clambered up on the ship’s side. Some poor fellows who were to leeward, and unable to haul themselves up to the weather side, were washed off by the foaming sea, and, unable to help them, we saw them drowned before our eyes. We felt that in another moment their fate might be ours, for so far gone was the ship that the wheel on the quarter-deck was already under water, and to our dismay we saw that the ship was settling down every moment lower and lower. All the time she kept moving about terrifically, and all we could do was to cling on and watch for our approaching dissolution. Higher every instant rose the water, and it had now reached the after part of the carronade slides on the weather side. All hope was now gone. No ship with a heavy armament like ours had ever floated in such a position. Those who could or dared pray prayed; the rest waited in dull or hardened indifference for their fate. There was a tremendous deafening crash. I thought our last moment had come, but no, at that instant I saw the masts breaking away like mere faggots; the bowsprit, spanker-boom, everything went, and with a spring the ship righted so much that the lee gunwale rose even with the water’s edge.

“‘Now, my lads,’ shouted out our captain in a tone which animated all hands; ‘now’s our time! Overboard with the guns; we shall yet keep the ship afloat.’

“We all scrambled back on the deck, and everybody, fore and aft, set to work with a will to obey the captain’s orders. Capstan-bars, handspikes and axes were in requisition for active service. First we got the lee quarter-deck guns and carronades overboard; then we hurried forward and launched one of the forecastle guns into the sea, and cut away the sheet anchor. All the weight we took off the lee-side had so good an effect that still more of the ship’s side rose above water, and we found that we could get at the lee-guns on the main deck. What was of equal importance also, we were able to reach the pumps. The first thing was to get the lee main deck guns overboard. It was some of the most trying work we had yet to perform. As I looked aft, and then glanced forward, I could not help perceiving, as I believed, that the ship was going down stern foremost. Others were under the same impression. Still a daring body, led by the gallant Packenham, our first lieutenant, worked away with such determination that one gun after the other was sent plunging into the ocean. Meantime the pumps were rigged, and we made a desperate attempt to free the ship from water. Already it was above the cable on the orlop deck, and there was an immense quantity between decks. Our previous unexpected success encouraged us to proceed. No men ever worked with a better will than did our people; still, it’s my belief that seamen always will thus work when a good example is set them. We were evidently diminishing the water, and the ship was no longer sinking, when an accident occurred which made us again almost abandon hope. On examination, it proved to be that the stump of the mainmast had worked out of the stop and been driven against one of the chain-pumps. The carpenter and his mate and crew hurried below to see what could be done, but scarcely were they there when the cry arose that the other pump was useless. Still they were undaunted. While the stump of the mast was being secured, they laboured away to repair the damage. At length one of the pumps was put to rights: a cheerful shout announced the fact. Then we set to work on the other, which was in time cleared, and once more the water flowed out at the lee scuppers in a full stream. The ship was strong, and tight as a corked bottle. Wonderful as it may seem, not a leak had been sprung. The ship having at length been got somewhat to rights, the crew were mustered, when it was found that twenty men had been drowned or seriously disabled. In a few hours she was cleared of water, but there we lay, a helpless wreck on the ocean, an easy prey to the smallest enemy. Our safety existed, we knew, in the fact that every other vessel afloat must be in nearly an equally bad condition. When the weather moderated we rigged jury-masts, and after great exertion got back into harbour, thankful to heaven for our providential preservation from a fate to which so many of our fellow-men had been doomed.”

Of his Majesty’s ships alone, a great number were lost or dismasted. The Thunderer, 74, Captain Walshingham, which had just arrived at the station with a convoy from England, was lost with all hands. The Scarborough, of 20 guns, was also lost with all hands. The Stirling Castle, 64 guns, was lost, only the captain, Carteret, and fifty people escaping. The Phoenix, 44—Deal Castle, 24—Endeavour brig, 14, were lost, part only of the crews escaping. The Berwick, 74—Hector, 74—Grafton, 74, Captain Collingwood—Trident, 64—Ruby, 64—Bristol, 50—Ulysses, 44, and Pomona, lost all their masts, while the two first had also to throw all their guns overboard. They formed the squadron which had sailed from Port Royal with the trade for Europe, under Rear-Admiral Rowley. He, with five only of his ships in a most shattered condition, returned to Jamaica, while the Berwick separated from him, and, almost a wreck, arrived under jury-masts in England, no one expecting that she would keep afloat till they got there.

Again I must sing, as I often have to do—

“Ye gentlemen of England, who live at home at ease,

Ah! little do you think upon the dangers of the seas.”

Note 1. Afterwards Sir William Symonds, Surveyor of the Navy. Another son was the late Admiral Thomas Symonds, several of whose sons are or were in the Navy. Captain Thomas Symonds here spoken of was also the son, I believe, of a naval officer. His brother was Dr Symonds, Professor of Modern History in the University of Cambridge.

Chapter Twenty Two.

Old Nol’s dream.—The Charon on shore.—Afloat at last.—Expedition up the Chesapeake.—Sent on shore.—Capture guides and hostages.—Visit Hampton.—Kindly received by Madeline’s friends.—Her likeness but not herself.—Warned of approach of an enemy.—We retreat, and regain our ship.

With a proud confidence that we were sailing on to victory, and as all hoped and believed to bring the war to a conclusion, the squadron entered the Chesapeake on the evening of the 30th of December.

The Charon, however, did not make a good beginning. The lead was kept going, and with a fair and light breeze we were running quietly on. Suddenly, just as eight bells had struck, there was a shock felt—not a very violent one, happily—but the cause we knew too well; the ship was on shore on the Willoughby Shoal. The canvas was furled, and an attempt instantly made to get her off; but there did not then appear much chance of our efforts proving successful. We had been toiling away for two or three hours, and still the ship stuck fast.

“I don’t like this here event by no means at all, Tom,” I heard Nol Grampus observe to Tom Rockets.

Nol, though a sensible fellow in the main, was a thorough old salt, and with all the usual prejudices of his class.

“To my mind ill-luck has set in against us. I had a dream t’other night. I thought as how, while we was a-standing on under all sail, thinking ourselves all right and free from danger, far away from land, I saw a big fish—she was a whopper, depend on that—a-swimming along over the sea. I looked at her, and she opened her mouth and made right at the ship. Her upper jaw reached far up above the main-top mast truck, and the lower one, I’d no doubt, dipped far away down below her keel. Well, as I was a-saying, on she came, roaring away like a young porpoise, and heaving the foam right over our mast-heads. I knew what would happen, and so it did. Just as easily as the big shark in Port Royal harbour would swallow a nigger boy, she made a snap at the ship and bolted us all, masts and spars and hull, and I felt as how we was all a-being crunched up in her jaws. I woke with a start, which made me almost jump clean out of my hammock, all over in a cold sweat, and right glad I was to find that it wasn’t true; but, d’ye see, Tom, as to going to sleep again, I couldn’t for the life of me, but lay awake a-kicking up my toes and turning the matter over in my mind. Says I to myself, ‘There’s some harm a-coming to the old barkie of some sort or other, or my name’s not Nol Grampus. When we gets ashore this evening,’ says I to myself, ‘this is the beginning on it,’ and you’ll see my words comes true, Tom.”

There was not light enough to allow me to observe Rockets’ countenance, but I felt very sure, from the exclamations in which he indulged, that he was taking in the whole matter with open-mouthed credulity, scarcely understanding that Grampus was only describing his dream, and that he had fully made up his mind that some dreadful accident was about to happen to the ship. The scene I have been describing took place during one of the cessations from labour, while the captain and first lieutenant and master were considering what means could next be adopted to get the ship afloat again. I was anxious that Nol’s remarks should not be heard by the rest of the crew, for I knew by experience how greedily such an idea as the one he had expressed—that the ship was doomed—might be taken up by the crew, and perhaps produce the very event he had predicted. I was about to step forward and interfere, when the order was issued to carry out another anchor astern, and Grampus and his listener had to go about their duty. All night long we were toiling away, getting out all our anchors, starting the water, even lowering some of the guns into the boats.

“I told you so; I knew how it would be,” I heard Grampus remark just as he happened to meet Tom, while I was passing. “Ill-luck has come to the ship, and ill-luck will stick to her, unless so be we gets a parson aboard and manages to heave him into the sea. That’ll set things to rights again, may be.”

I was amused at the old man’s recipe for averting the doom from the ship. It was not, however, new to me, for I had before heard a similar proposal made under like circumstances. Never did a set of men labour and toil more perseveringly than did our crew that night. Still the ship stuck fast. It became at last a matter of doubt whether we should have to throw all our guns overboard, and perhaps our provisions and ammunition; and if so, all hopes of gaining prize-money or of doing anything in the way of fighting was over for a long time to come. Captain Symonds of course was unwilling to resort to this alternative till the last. Grog was served out to all hands, and then we set to again with a will. Hour after hour passed; as yet the weather remained moderate, but we could not conceal from ourselves the disagreeable fact that, should it come on to blow, in the position in which we were placed, the ship would too probably be knocked to pieces. We were all so busily employed that the hours did not pass so heavily as they would otherwise have done. We were in constant movement ourselves, and had to keep the ship in constant movement to prevent her from forming a bed for herself in the sand. The tide, which was ebbing when we got on shore, at last turned and began to flow. Slow enough it came in to suit our impatience. At length dawn appeared. The crokers were of opinion that the clouds looked threatening. “If a gale springs up, the old ship will leave her bones here, that’s very certain,” I heard one or two of them remark. I watched the current as it came sweeping by us; the water was evidently rising round the ship. Again all the strain we could command was put on the hawsers. None but a seaman can understand the satisfactory sensations we experienced as her vast hulk yielded to our efforts. We felt that she was gliding off the bank. “She moves, she moves! hurrah, hurrah!” was shouted fore and aft. Her speed increased, round went the capstan right merrily. Again and again the men shouted. She was clear of the bank. One after the other the anchors were weighed, sail was made on the ship, and rapidly we glided up the mighty Chesapeake. We proceeded up as high as Newportneuse, and so suddenly and unexpectedly did we come on the enemy that a considerable number of merchantmen were unable to make their escape. As soon as we had brought up, the boats were lowered, and away we went in chase.

The moment the crews made out who we were, they cut their cables and ran, while we in hot speed went after them. Some few gave it up as a hopeless case and hauled down their colours; others ran on shore, and their crews set them on fire, or we did so, to prevent any one from benefiting by them. They were mostly loaded with Virginian tobacco. No one in the fleet wanted a good supply of the fragrant weed after that. We took or destroyed a dozen or more brigs and schooners. It might have been necessary, but it was cruel work, and I did not think it was the best way to make the planters of Virginia love us the more. Such was the way our expedition commenced operations.

Before I proceed I must recommend my readers to look at a map of Virginia bordering the southern or rather western side of the Chesapeake, and examine the scene of the operations which, under the directions of General Arnold, we were about to commence against the rebels. To the east will be found that large estuary of the Atlantic running nearly north and south, and known as Chesapeake bay, or gulf, or river. It forms the eastern boundary of Virginia. Flowing into it from the west the river Potomac bounds the State on the north, while a vast marsh, known by the unattractive name of the Dismal Swamp, separates it on the south from North Carolina. Between the Potomac and the Dismal Swamp several other rivers and creeks are to be found. The largest is James river, with Portsmouth and Gosport near the mouth. Running into it on the north is Hampton creek, on which stands the town of Hampton, and a little to the north of it again is York river and York Town, which was to become the scene of operations of a character most disastrous to the royal cause. York Town stands on an elbow of York river, between it and James river. Some way up James river is the town of Richmond, the capital of the State of Virginia. The country was, at the time of which I am speaking, as densely populated and as well cultivated as any part of the province of North America. The Dismal Swamp is an exception to the fertility of the surrounding country. It is a vast quagmire, composed of vegetable matter and the decayed roots of trees and plants. On the surface appear in rich luxuriance every species of aquatic plants, from the delicate green moss to the tall cypress. It covers, I was told, an area of a thousand square miles, and is forty miles long and twenty-five broad, having, however, in the centre, a lake of some size fringed to the very borders with dense masses of trees which extend even into the water itself. The water is perfectly level with the banks, and sometimes overflows them. Altogether, from its uninhabitable and impassable character, and the sombre appearance of its vegetable productions, it well deserves the name given to it.

The last day of the year 1780 had now arrived. Captain Symonds sent for me and informed me that I had had the honour of being selected for some important duty, and that he could fully rely on my carrying it out with my usual zeal, energy, and discretion. I bowed, and replied that I was always anxious to do my duty; but my heart, I confess, did beat rather quickly and anxiously in consequence of the possibility I at once saw of realising the hopes I had so long entertained, I need not, however, again revert to that subject.

“Some intelligent pilots are required to conduct the men-of-war and transports up James river, as also some guides are wanted for the army when they land,” said my captain. “Now you see, Mr Hurry, as they won’t come simply because they are wanted, you are to go on shore and catch them. Captain Hawthorne of the 80th Regiment, with two detachments, one from the Queen’s Rangers and one of his own men, will accompany you. You will have altogether fully three hundred men. With their courage and discipline they will be a match for a thousand or two thousand rebels, and I expect that you will carry out your instructions with credit to yourself and advantage to the service.”

I bowed, and the captain continued: “It is believed that the enemy have secured some of their vessels in Hampton creek. You are to find out where they are, and, if you can, take possession of them and bring them away. If not, burn or destroy them; at all events, acquaint yourself sufficiently with the country to enable you to lead an expedition up the creek to capture them. With regard to the inhabitants, you are to treat them with civility and in a conciliatory manner. If necessary, of course you will coerce them, but as much as possible show them that we come as friends rather than as foes.”

Having assured the captain that I fully comprehended my directions, and would endeavour to carry them out to the full, I took my departure, to prepare for the expedition.

I had a hundred picked men with me, including Nol Grampus and Tom Rockets, whom I kept by me as my bodyguard. We got the soldiers all on shore by seven o’clock in the evening at Newportneuse, where I joined them with the blue-jackets. Meeting with no opposition, we were under the impression that our landing was unnoticed. Forming on the shore we began our march at about eight o’clock in good military order, the Rangers in front, the seamen in the centre, and the 80th in the rear, with advanced and flanking parties from the Rangers. I felt that we were in an enemy’s country, that any moment we might be attacked, and that such precautions as we were taking were in no way derogatory to those who would desire to be considered brave men. Others, as will afterwards be seen, held a different opinion and suffered accordingly. Captain Hawthorne, however, fully agreed with me in the wisdom of adopting the precautions I proposed. We advanced in perfect silence, feeling our way, for we were ignorant of where the path we were following would lead us. Road, properly so-called, there was none. After proceeding half a mile or so through a tolerably open country we reached a thick wood, extending so far before us on either side that it was in vain to hope to pass round it. Whether or not it was full of lurking enemies we could not tell. There was nothing to be done but to penetrate through it. There was something solemn and rather depressing in the deep silence of that gloomy forest, with the tall gaunt trees towering above our heads and shutting out the sky itself from view. In some places it was so dark that we could scarcely discover our way, and as we marched on we went stumbling into holes and over fallen trunks of trees and branches, and more than once I found myself up to my middle in the rotten stem of some ancient monarch of the forest long recumbent on the ground. Some of the men declared that the wood was full of rattle-snakes, and that they heard them rattling away their tails as they went gliding and wriggling along over the ground, rather surprised at having their haunts invaded by the tramping of so many hundred feet. Others asserted that there were ghosts and hobgoblins and evil spirits of all sorts infesting the locality; indeed, I suspect that there was scarcely a man among them who would not more willingly have met a whole army of mortal enemies rather than have remained much longer in that melancholy solitude. Every moment I expected to hear the sharp crack of the enemy’s rifles and to see the wood lighted up with the flashes, for I could scarcely suppose that they would allow us to pass through a place, where, without much risk to themselves, they might so easily molest us and probably escape scot-free. On we marched, or rather stumbled and groped our way, till at length we emerged from the wood into the clear light which the starry sky and pure atmosphere afforded us. We were now among fields and fences, which gave us intimation that some human habitations were not far-off. In a short time we saw before us a good-sized mansion standing in the middle of a farm, with various out-houses. Our first care was to draw up our men closely round it. Hawthorne and I, with about twenty followers, then approached the front door and knocked humbly for admission. Soon we heard the voice of a negro inquiring who was there.

“Some gentlemen who wish to see your master on important business,” I answered.

“Ki! at this hour! Come again to-morrow, den; massa no see nobody to-night.”

“It is business which cannot be put off,” said I. “Open, Sambo, you rascal, or I shall be apt to break your head or your shins rather before long if you are not quick about it.”

Still Sambo seemed to have his suspicions that all was not right, and very soon we heard somebody else come to the door and a discussion commence as to who we could be. Again I knocked and began to lose patience.

“Open, friend!” I exclaimed; “we are not robbers, nor are we officers of the law, but we have a matter in which we want your assistance, but cannot delay.”

Soft words often have an effect when rough ones would fail. The bolts were withdrawn, and, the door opening, a gentleman in a dressing-gown and slippers, his wig off, his waistcoat unbuttoned, and his whole appearance showing that he had made himself comfortable for the evening, stood, candle in hand, before us. He held up the light and peered before him into the darkness to ascertain who we could be. When his eye fell on our uniforms and the red-coats of the soldiers his countenance assumed a most ridiculously scared appearance, and with a groan of terror he let the candlestick fall from his hands. The expiring flame, as the candle reached the ground, showed me a female arm stretched out. It hauled him through a doorway, and the door was slammed and bolted in our faces. Directly afterwards we heard a window thrown up, and a voice exclaimed—

“Fly, Ebenezer, love! fly and hide thyself, or these red-coated villains will be the death of thee!”

We stood very quietly waiting the result. I knew pretty well what it would be. In two minutes a voice was heard outside the window—

“Oh, mercy, mercy! Bridget, let me in again, let me in!” it said. “The house is surrounded by armed men, and thy unhappy husband is truly caught in the snares of the enemy.”

We had no time to spare, so I thought it best to catch our friend and see what we could make of him. I accordingly knocked at the door and desired to be admitted.

“Oh, mercy, mercy! oh dear, oh dear!” was the only answer I got.

“Well, my friends, I can wait no longer,” I exclaimed, in a voice which showed that I would not be trifled with. “I have something to communicate to you, and if you come out peaceably it will save trouble, and be better for all parties. You have my word that no harm whatever is intended you.”

There was some discussion inside. I knocked pretty loudly two or three times with the hilt of my sword. The hint was taken, and at length the door was slowly and cautiously opened, and the worthy farmer and his portly dame stood before us. I asked him his name.

“Ruggles,” he answered, looking as if he did not love me certainly, “Ebenezer Ruggles, and that’s my wife Bridget. And now, stranger, what is it you want of us?”

“Why, my friend, all I want you to do is to guide a party of his Majesty’s troops and blue-jackets by the nearest and best road to the town of Hampton, and to give me such other information as I may reasonably require,” I replied, somewhat sternly. “I have lost some time already, so put on your hat and great coat and come along.”

“What! you are going to carry my husband off, are you? He’ll not go; I tell you that he shan’t!” exclaimed Mrs Bridget, walking up in front of him, like a turkey hen defending her young. “Whatever you want to know I’ll tell you, but you shan’t take away my good man from me. He’d catch his death of cold, I know he would. Here, Jeremiah! Boaz! Timothy! Luke! Sarah! Martha! Jane! come and stop your dear father from being shot, murdered, drowned, hung up as a Tory! Oh, dear, oh, dear! I don’t know what will happen to him.”

As she spoke, a number of children streamed in from an inner room, the smaller ones in their night-gowns, and all more or less in déshabille, as if they had been hurriedly summoned out of their beds. They looked at me, and the soldiers and sailors behind me, and then threw themselves shrieking and crying round their father’s neck. As I knew that we should take very good care of the poor man, I could not stand this scene very long, and had at last to tell him that he must put an end to it, or that I must order the soldiers to separate him from his children and to carry him off by force.

“Oh, you cruel, hard-hearted slave of a tyrant!” exclaimed their mother, advancing boldly towards me; “you will not take him away—you will not—you dare not! You’ll have his life to answer for if you do.”

“Come, come, madam,” said I, “we must end this business at once. Your husband must accompany me at all events. No harm will happen to him, so don’t be alarmed. Now, sir, put on your hat and accompany me.”

I had a strong suspicion that she wished to gain time, and had perhaps sent off some one to try and bring down the enemy on us.

Again there was a furious chorus of hugging and shrieking and crying and kissing.

“Don’t go—you shan’t go—Papa, you mustn’t go—we won’t let you go—hard-hearted, cruel tyrants!”

Such were the phrases which reached my ears, but Ebenezer Ruggles saw that I was in earnest, and, signing to his wife, she brought him a thick pair of shoes, a great coat, a stick and his hat, and then, in spite of the renewed cries of his children, he signified, in a manly, fearless way, that if we compelled him he would accompany us without resistance. I accordingly took him by the arm, and succeeded at last in separating him from his wife and children, and leading him out of the house. Even after we had got some distance off we heard the cries of poor Dame Bridget and her disconsolate brood. Ebenezer bore the trial very well.

“Now, friend Ruggles,” said I, “you must understand that, if you guide us right and play us no tricks, we will restore you safe to your wife and family, but if you lead us into any difficulty I shall be under the disagreeable necessity of shooting you through the head.”

“Oh! if that’s the case, then, I must tell you that you have come two miles out of the road to Hampton,” quoth Mr Ruggles. “If you had gone on, you would have run your noses against a pretty strong force of our States’ army, who would have made mince-meat of you, I guess.”

“They must have been pretty strong to impede the progress of a thousand men,” said I. “However, lead us by the best road and you shall be well rewarded.”

“That’s reasonable,” said Ruggles; and forthwith turning round, away he trudged alongside me at the rate of nearly four miles an hour. He led us back right through the dark wood and into the open country, and at last we reached a fine broad open road. Along that we marched at a great rate. We soon, however, came to a house. We instantly surrounded it, and, very much to the surprise and alarm of the inhabitants, made them prisoners. I rather think that our friend Ruggles was not sorry to have a companion in his misfortunes. We soon had several. Every house we came to we surrounded, and had to capture the inhabitants, that they might not escape to give the alarm through the country. I cannot describe all the scenes that occurred. Some were rather amusing, as we knew that we were not going to injure the poor people. Others were painful, from the dreadful alarm into which both men and women were put when we appeared at their doors. Still greater was it when they found that they had to accompany us on our march.

The night was drawing on, and there were as yet no signs of the town for which we were bound. Every moment, of course, increased the probability of our being attacked, for, notwithstanding all our precautions, we scarcely hoped to have prevented some of the people getting off, who might give notice of our advance. I began to suspect that Mr Ruggles was playing us false. I told him so. He assured me that we were close upon Hampton. I cocked my pistol to his ear, to remind him what would be the consequence should he be playing us false. He stood firm, and my confidence in him was restored. In five minutes he asked me to halt my people, and assured me we were close upon the town. Just then the advanced guard fell back, and reported that they had suddenly found themselves at the entrance of a town. We accordingly formed our force into three divisions. One party went round to the other side, one remained where we then were, and a third, which I led, entered the town. Having made a rapid survey of the place, Captain Hawthorne and I placed a strong body of men at each end of the principal streets, and the outskirts of the town being at the same time strictly watched, we felt now that no one could escape or enter the place without our knowledge. These arrangements being made, we commenced a series of visits to the abodes of all the principal inhabitants. So silently had we proceeded that many of them were not aware that the town was in our hands, and their dismay may be more easily conceived than described when they found armed men knocking at their doors, and in some instances breaking them open. One of the first houses we visited was that of an oldish gentleman—the richest merchant, we were told, in the town. We knocked at first gently, and then louder and louder, till we heard some one coming along the passage, and a negro voice inquired who was there and what was wanted. The usual answer, “Your master—business of importance—quick—quick!” made the poor black without further consideration open the door, when in we rushed, and he, stepping back, tumbled head over heels, and upset two or three of the first men who got in. Amid shouts of laughter from us, and shrieks and cries from a whole posse of negroes who ran out from their own dormitories, we hurried up to the principal staircase. The hubbub, as well it might, roused the master of the house and his better half from their drowsy slumbers—so we concluded—for a gruff voice in tones irate began scolding away from the top of the stairs at the blacks, demanding why they made so terrific a noise—joined in occasionally by other far sharper notes.

“The blacks are not to blame, old gentleman,” exclaimed Hawthorne, springing up the stairs. “How do you do! We call upon you at rather an unseasonable hour, I own, but our stay in the place is short you will understand. We will have a little conversation together on public affairs, and then I must trouble you for the keys of your stores, or an order for the delivery of such provisions as we may require, for which I am directed to offer you payment.”

The old gentleman, not comprehending who we were, was almost struck down at first on hearing this address, but, after a time, recovering himself, he begged leave to slip on some more clothes, and promised that he would then come down into his sitting-room and speak to us.

We heard him and the sharp-voiced lady discussing matters up-stairs.

More than once Hawthorne had to sing out—

“We are in a hurry, sir—we are in a hurry,” before his better half would let him appear.

I left Hawthorne and him to settle matters while I with my men proceeded to other houses. We had given strict orders that no violence whatever was to be used towards any of the inhabitants, and I fully believe that the lieutenants and midshipmen under us did their best to repress anything of the sort. Still it was necessary to keep a watch on all parties. Of course I was obeying the orders I had received in what I did, and had no choice; but, at the same time, I must own that I felt excessive repugnance in thus having to disturb and frighten out of their senses the inhabitants of a quiet town, who had in no way done anything to offend us. I resolved, however, to make amends to them by every means in my power, by treating them with the utmost delicacy and kindness. We had already seized on a dozen or more of the principal people, and marched them off to the square in the centre of the town, where they were kept under a strong guard as hostages for the good behaviour of the rest, and as a guarantee for our safety while we remained in the place. Not slight was the alarm and agitation when they were told that the instant any attempt was made, either by any of their fellow-townsmen or by any of the enemy’s troops outside, to re-take the place, their lives would be forfeited, while a pistol was kept presented at the head of each of them to carry this threat into execution. Having, in my rounds, visited the square, and comforted our prisoners as much as I could venture to do, I again went on with my domiciliary visits. At the next house at which I stopped the door was instantly opened by the black servant.

“Oh, massa officer! oh, massa officer! you frighten de poor young ladies till all die!” he exclaimed as we entered the hall. “Oh, ki! oh, ki! dey kick and squeal on de sofa like little pigs going to have dey throat cut. Oh, ki! oh, ki! what shall we do?”

“Where are the ladies?” I asked. “I will try what I can do to banish their alarm.”

“Dis way, den, sare—dis way,” said the negro, ushering me in a great hurry into a large and handsomely-furnished room, lighted by several candles. There were several sofas. On two of them lay two ladies, apparently in hysterics, while several other ladies and female attendants, black and brown, were bending over them and applying restoratives.

“There, sir! that is what you and your people have done!” exclaimed an elderly and rather portly lady, turning round and advancing towards me while she pointed at the younger females, whom I took to be her daughters, on the sofa.

Some of my men were following me. When the ladies saw them they shrieked louder than ever, so I ordered them all to go outside the house with the exception of Tom Rockets, and then addressed myself to the lady who had thus spoken to me—

“I regret excessively the cruel necessity thus imposed on me, madam,” said I, “but accept the honour of an officer and a gentleman that no harm shall be done to any member of your family. Let me entreat the young ladies to calm their fears. My people are under perfect command, as you may have seen by the way they obeyed my orders, so that you need be under no apprehension either from them.”

“I’ll trust you, sir; I’ll trust you,” said the lady, frankly putting out her hand. “There is something in your countenance and manner which assures me that you speak the truth.”

I could only bow to this pretty compliment—I hope it was deserved. These words had great effect in calming the agitation of the young ladies, and in a few minutes they were able to dismiss the negro girls and the scent bottles and the plates of burnt feathers, and to sit up and enter into conversation. The room was still too dark to enable me to see much of their countenances, but I thought their voices sounded very pleasant and sweet, and I pictured them to myself as very charming young ladies.

“The hour is somewhat unusual for tea,” observed the lady of the house, “but I doubt not after your long march you will find it refreshing.”

I thanked the lady very much, and assured her that I should particularly enjoy a cup of tea. She accordingly gave the order to an attendant slave, and in a short time a whole troop of black girls came in with urn and teacups and candles, and in a twinkling a table was spread, and all the party drew round it.

As I was approaching the tea-table, I started and stood like one transfixed, for there appeared before me, with the light of a candle falling full on her countenance, a young lady the very image of Madeline Carlyon. “It must be her,” I thought; and yet my heart told me that it could not be, for she did not appear to recognise me. The young lady, however, saw my confusion, and looked up with an inquiring glance at my countenance. Women have, I suspect, very sharp eyes in discovering where anything connected with the heart of the opposite sex is concerned, and are generally equally clever in concealing what is passing in their own. She kept looking at me, and I looked at her for a minute or more without speaking. More than once I made a move towards her as if the lady I saw before me must be Madeline, and then the expression of her countenance showed me I was mistaken.

At last I was aware that I was making myself somewhat remarkable or, as some of my friends would have said, very ridiculous; so, trying to overcome my agitation, I drew my chair to the table and sat down. I watched the young lady, and observed that she still cast an inquiring glance at me, as much as to say, “For whom do you take me?” On the strength of this I thought I would venture to inquire if she was in any way related to Madeline. Just as I was going to speak, a cup of tea was handed to me. I first emptied half the contents of the sugar-bason into it, then said I took very little sugar, and asked for a spoonful. Then I threw off the tea as if it were a doctor’s dose, and passed my cup for some more. At last I mustered courage to look across the table and to say, “I beg pardon—I fear that I must have appeared very rude, but your resemblance to a young lady whom I know is so very striking that I should suppose you to be her sister if I was not aware that she has none.”

“Then you must be Mr Hurry!” she said quickly. “I am considered very like my cousin, Madeline Carlyon. She has spoken to me about you—of your kindness and generosity—oh, how very fortunate!”

The countenances of all the party were turned towards me, and they looked at me with an expression of interest and pleasure. The elder lady got up and, taking my hand, exclaimed—

“We welcome you indeed most cordially, Mr Hurry. Our kinswomen have spoken most warmly of you, and we consider ourselves most happy in having met you, though you come in the guise of an enemy.”

I had not said all this time who I was, it must be understood. It made my heart bump away very hard when I found the manner in which Madeline had spoken of me to her relatives. I made as suitable a reply as I could to all the complimentary things which were said to me; and then, as soon as I could, I inquired in a trembling voice where Madeline Carlyon then was, and how she was. I felt very sure that my secret was out, and that there was no use in disguising my sentiments.

“She is now residing with her father not very far away from here. They were, however, to stay with some friends in the neighbourhood, and we are not quite certain where they may be at this present moment,” answered the elder lady. “We will, depend on it, take care to let her know that we have seen you, and she will rejoice to hear of the courteous way in which you treated us, even when you were unaware who we were.”

I expressed my thanks, and then remarked that even then I did not know their names.

“Langton is my name,” said the lady. “These are my daughters, and that young lady is my niece, and the other is her sister. They are Carlyons. Grace is indeed very like her cousin, and some curious mistakes have occurred in consequence.”

I need not repeat more of our conversation. In a few minutes I felt perfectly at home, and I must own had almost forgotten the errand on which I had come to the place. Tea was over, and I was about to ask for paper and a pen to write to Madeline when the sound of a bugle recalled me to the stern reality of my duties. I started up. I longed to send a message to Madeline—yet what could I say? I felt that all reserve must be thrown to the winds. I took Mrs Langton’s hand: “Tell her—tell her that I am true,” I exclaimed. “Oh, that this dreadful war were brought to an end!”

Again the bugle sounded; Tom Rockets put his head in at the door. He had been carried off to be tended on by the slaves below.

“We must be off, sir,” said he; “the red-coats are forming outside, and from what I can make out there is likely to be a scrimmage.”

I shook the ladies warmly by the hand. In vain I endeavoured to get them to tell me where they believed Madeline Carlyon then was. One spoke, then another; mentioning the names of different places, which of course I did not know, nor could I conceive by their descriptions in what direction they were to be found. Several shots were heard; again the bugle sounded. I dared not remain another moment. I tore myself away, still ignorant of a point I would have given much to ascertain, and rushed out. My own men had formed outside the house; the other different parties who had been carrying on the examination of the town were hurrying into the square from all quarters. Some of them brought us the information that our advanced guard was attacked.

“Then the hostages must answer for it,” said Captain Hawthorne.

The no-little-alarmed old gentlemen we had in our power entreated that they might be allowed to try and stop the attack. We, of course, were glad enough of this, and we let them go to the front in charge of a strong body of our men. In a short time they returned, well contented to find that the attack had been made merely by a hundred volunteers or so, who on finding our strength had retreated. We knew, however, that they would not go far-off, and felt the unpleasant assurance that we should, in all probability, be continually harassed during the whole of our march back, and perhaps even have to fight our way through a crowd of active enemies.

Under these circumstances Hawthorne and I agreed that we should, without a moment’s delay, commence our march. It was now about two o’clock in the morning. We had performed the service we had come on, and gained all the information we required. We had ascertained that the surrounding country would supply us amply with provisions; that the vessels which had taken refuge in the creek could not be cut out without a strong force, and that the people were, if not actually in arms against us, far from favourable to the royal cause, as Arnold had led us to suppose they would be. We had also distributed large numbers of his address. Discharging some of the more elderly of our prisoners, we began our march, carrying with us the younger men and those whom we had picked up on the way. We soon found that our retreat was to be anything but pleasant. Scarcely had we got clear of the town when the crack of rifles showed us that an enemy was in our rear. Our road led us through numerous woods more or less dense. We had got to about the centre of the first, when on either flank bright jets of flame were seen darting out like the flashes of fire-flies from among the trees. I could almost have fancied that they were fire-flies had not the flashes been accompanied by sharp reports, and had we not felt the bullets whizzing about our ears. By proceeding, however, in the careful way in which we made our advance, we kept the enemy at bay, and they saw that we were not a force to be trifled with. It would have been useless barbarity to have punished our prisoners for what they could not help, but we told them that we should hold them responsible if any serious attack was made on us. Still it was somewhat provoking to have our men hit without being able to go in pursuit of our nimble adversaries, for, of course, they were off and away the instant we made a movement towards them. Thus we proceeded as rapidly as the nature of the ground would allow. Whenever we reached the habitation of one of our prisoners, we thanked him for the assistance he had afforded us, and allowed him to remain, on his undertaking not only not to act against us that day, but to do his best to prevent his countrymen from attacking us. This was very judicious; for although, I believe, fresh skirmishers came on, the old ones gradually withdrew, and thus we never had, at a time, any very large force with which to contend. Several of our men had been wounded, but none had been killed that we were aware of. However, when, at seven o’clock in the morning, we reached the place of debarkation, we found that, exclusive of the wounded, one seaman and six soldiers were missing. What had become of them we could not tell, but as they were not seen to fall, it is more than probable that they deserted to the enemy. When I returned on board the Charon, Captain Symonds was pleased to say that the general was highly satisfied with the way the expedition had been conducted. Whatever may be thought of General Arnold, I may here remark that he was a first-rate soldier and a clever man, as was proved by all the expeditions he planned and the exploits he performed.

Thus ended the year 1780. Who could then tell the important events the following one was to bring forth?

Chapter Twenty Three.

Advance of army up James river.—I command a flotilla of boats up Nansimond river.—A dark night.—Surround a house.—Interview with Madeline.—Warned of plan to capture us.—O’Driscoll at home.—Rapid pull for liberty.—Mackey’s Mills.—People wide-awake.—Hot fire.—Regain ship.

The new year of 1781 commenced with the advance of the whole army, under General Arnold, up the banks of the James river, protected by three ships of war—the Charlestown, Bonetta, and Swift. No attack was made on us; indeed, there was no force of the enemy, it was believed, in the neighbourhood in any way capable of impeding our progress. That evening I was again sent for, and, in order to ascertain that important fact, I was directed to take command of five boats and to proceed up the Nansimond river. “You will learn, also, what shipping is in the river,” said my captain; “and, Mr Hurry, you will not forget to see how they can best be cut out.” Having received this brief professional admonition, I took my departure.

I had the Charon’s cutter, the Thames’s long-boat, and three other boats, each commanded by a lieutenant or master’s mate. I gave them all, in the clearest way, their instructions, for I felt that we were about to engage in an expedition which might prove extremely hazardous, though but little honour was to be reaped from it. The Nansimond river is about twenty-five miles long, and generally about half a mile wide; but in some places, as high up as the west branch, it narrows to about fifty yards. Not far from the entrance is the town of Nansimond, and higher up a place called Mackey’s Mills. Nearly at the source is a town or village called Suffolk. This information I had obtained from the prisoners we had taken on our previous expedition.

Darkness had long settled down before my five boats collected alongside the Charon. Never was I out in a more pitchy night. Dense clouds covered the sky, and not a star was visible. On first stepping into my boat, after leaving the light of the cabin, I could see nothing.

“You all understand what we are to do, gentlemen?” said I to the officers under me. “Follow closely in my wake. Let not a word be spoken. If we are discovered and attacked, we are to put about and pull down the stream; if not, wait till I give the order to return. Shove off!”

Our oars were muffled, so that not a sound was heard as we pulled away through the darkness towards the mouth of the Nansimond river. We had a pilot with us who professed to know the navigation, and we believed that we could trust him. By degrees my eyes began to grow accustomed to the darkness, and I could distinguish the outline of the shore. We entered the river about ten o’clock, and slowly groped our way up the stream, one boat following the other in line, like a long snake wriggling its way through the grass. On we pulled. Sharp eyes, indeed, must have been those which could have discovered us from the shore. But few lights were streaming from the windows of the houses of Nansimond as we passed that town. Early hours were kept by the colonists in those primitive days, and most of the inhabitants had retired to rest—not aware that an enemy was so close to them, or dreaming of danger. As long as we continued in the wider part of the river we had no fear of being detected. However, as our object was to obtain information, I resolved to land near the first house we could see on the shore. My plan was then to surround it, keep all the inmates captive, carry them up the river with us, and land them again on our return, so as to prevent them from giving notice of our expedition, much in the same way that we had done on our march to Hampton. The darkness, however, made this no easy matter, for not the sign of a house could we distinguish on the shore. Sometimes we pulled towards one bank and sometimes towards the other, but to no purpose. If houses there were, they must have been among the trees, and the inhabitants must have gone to bed and extinguished all their lights. At last I resolved to land, and, with part of one boat’s crew, to explore the country on foot. Grampus, Rockets, and two other men accompanied me, while the boats pulled slowly along, ready to come to my assistance should I be surprised. I walked two or three miles in this way, stumbling along through woods and swamps and other impediments; but, though we crossed several ploughed fields, no houses could we discover. At last, from very weariness, I was compelled to take to the boat again. Several times we landed, but with the same want of success as at first. We came in time to Mackey’s Mills. I had made up my mind to catch Mr Mackey, at all events, and make him serve our purpose. Accordingly we landed, and having lighted our lanterns to save ourselves from tumbling into the mill-dams or traps, which we supposed would everywhere abound, we surrounded the buildings, and proceeded to search for the miller and his men; but neither Mr Mackey nor any of his people were to be found. The mill appeared to be deserted, so we had our trouble for nothing. Once more we took to the boats. The river was here, for some distance, very narrow, but it widened out again as we proceeded upwards. Again and again we landed, always keeping the most profound silence. I had duly impressed on the minds of the people the fact that our lives and the success of the enterprise depended on our so doing. We were all, however, beginning to get rather vexed at our want of success, especially as we had no safety-valve in the expression of our feelings. At times it appeared as if the river flowed through the centre of some large forest. On either side the tall trees rose up, forming a dark wall, with the sky overhead and the smooth black current of the river on which we floated flowing beneath. I trusted that none of the enemy had discovered us, for I thought to myself, if they have, this is just the place they will select to attack, and very little chance we shall have, in that case, of successfully running the gauntlet and getting off scot-free. However, our business was to push up the river as far as we could go till we discovered the vessels we were to look for, taking care, only, that we had time to return before daylight should discover us to our foes. On we went, till we reached a part of the river called the West Branch. It appeared to me that the night had become less dark than at first. Perhaps it was that the banks were freer from trees. We kept carefully examining either shore. I fancied as we pulled on that I could distinguish a rough sort of landing-place.

“A house will not be far-off from it,” I said to myself, so I gave the order to pull in for it. My eyes had not deceived me. There was a regular formal landing-place, and not three hundred yards from it I thought that I saw a house. Leaving two men in each boat I drew up my party and gave the order to advance that we might immediately surround the house, if such, as I suspected, there was. With the same precautions which we had hitherto used we advanced as rapidly as we could venture to move towards what I took to be a building. I soon found that I was not mistaken. The barking of a dog also told me that the place was inhabited, and at the same time warned us that the inmates were very likely to be aroused by our approach. I had charged all those under my command on no account to use violence, whatever might occur, unless in our own defence, should we be attacked by the enemy.

As we drew near I saw that the house was a large one, and that it had all the appearance of a gentleman’s country seat. We found ourselves also in a good road leading apparently into the interior. I therefore called a halt, and, leaving some of the men where we were, I led the rest round so as closely to surround the premises on the land side. I also bethought me of placing a guard to watch the approach by the river, for I thought it very likely that if any one wished to escape there would be a boat concealed under the banks by which they might effect their object. While I was making these dispositions the barking of the dog continued, but as he did not rush out on us I concluded that he was chained. He had, however, aroused the inmates, for as I passed through the garden I saw a light in one of the rooms down-stairs and other lights, passing the windows of the upper storey. From the situation of the lower room down-stairs I suspected that it must be the drawing-room or one of the sitting-rooms, and, halting my men under the shadow of a shrubbery, with directions to remain there till I summoned them, I approached the window for the purpose of trying if I could see any of the people within. There were two windows to the room. The blind before one of them was drawn down, so I went to the other. The lower shutter to that was also closed, but by standing up on the window-sill I could look into the room. What was my surprise to see a lady sitting at a table, on which stood a lamp, with a book in her hand, reading. Her back was towards me, but from her figure and dress I thought she was young. What surprised me was to find a lady sitting up at that hour, for it was now between two and three o’clock in the morning. Something unusual must, I suspected, be going on in the house. I was afraid that the sudden appearance of a body of armed men would seriously frighten the lady, and so I resolved to enter the house alone and take my chance of meeting with opposition from any man who might be there. A door opened into the garden. It was not bolted. I lifted the latch and entered. A light stood in the hall. I was not mistaken as to the character of the house; it was evidently that of people of fortune. On my right hand was a door which I conceived led into the room where I had seen the lady. An impulse I could not resist induced me to open it. The noise caused by my so doing made the lady turn her head. Her countenance was very pale and tearful. She looked up at me; her eye brightened: I sprang forward and threw myself at her feet. Madeline Carlyon was before me. So astonished and overcome by numberless conflicting feelings was she that I thought she would have fainted. She uttered my name in a tone of doubt and hesitation, as if she did not believe in the reality of what she saw before her. I took her hand and pressed it to my lips.

“It is I, Madeline, who have never ceased thinking of you since we parted,” I exclaimed,—“one whose only wish has been to find means to make you his own when the blessings of peace have been restored to our country—one whose earthly hopes are all centred in you. You are indulging in no dream—no fancy—I am really and truly before you.”

However, I need not repeat all I said on the occasion. I had no great difficulty in persuading Madeline that I was really before her; but when she inquired how it was that I came to be there, unwilling indeed I felt to tell her that I had come in hostile guise. At last, however, I had to confess the truth.

“Then I understand it all,” she exclaimed hurriedly. “Oh, believe me, you are beset with dangers. I ought not to betray the councils of my countrymen, and yet I cannot let you fall into the trap which has been laid for you. Your arrival in the river was immediately known, and a plan was forthwith formed to cut you off. The whole country has been for some hours alarmed. My own father heads the force, consisting, I heard, of more than four hundred men, who are about to take post at Mackey’s Mills to cut off your retreat. Silently as you may have come up the river, your progress has been, without doubt, closely watched. Perhaps even now your presence here is known, and anxiety on my father’s account prevented me from retiring to rest, and little did I think who was in command of the British boats. I knew not even that you were on the coast. But I must not lose time in talking. What advice can I give you? Stay, oh, let me consider! The party must already have nearly reached Mackey’s Mills. They will be there before you can possibly pass that narrow part of the river. Oh, this cruel, cruel war! What ought to be done? I am sure that my father himself would deeply grieve to find that stern duty had compelled him to injure you, and yet how could even I ask him to act otherwise than he will do? I know that I ought not, as a patriot, to give you the warning that I now do. Let me collect my thoughts and consider by what plan I can best secure your safety. It would be useless, I fear, to advise you to deliver yourselves up as prisoners of war, and thus avoid bloodshed. Yet how can you escape from the trap into which you have run? You smile and shake your head. I know—I know. You would say that you must try to fight your way through a host of rebels rather than yield yourselves prisoners. Your safety consists in the rapidity of your movements.”

She was silent for some minutes and then continued—

“There are, as high up as Suffolk, several vessels—a ship, a sloop, and a brig. Let it be known by any people whom you can fall in with that you are aware of this fact, and it will naturally be supposed that you have gone up the river to bring them off or to destroy them. The plan was to detain you by various stratagems in the river till daylight, when it was expected that you would easily be cut off and destroyed if you should attempt to fight your way through the crowds of riflemen lining each bank of the river, or otherwise that you would be compelled to give yourselves up as prisoners. I fear me much, I repeat, that this latter course you will not follow—I know you will not. Then you have only your speed on which to rely. You will have to run a terrible gauntlet between well-practised sharpshooters. Start without a moment’s delay. The militia will, I fear, have reached Mackey’s Mills before you can get there; but if, as I hope, they will believe that you have gone up the stream, they may not be on the watch for you, and you may push by without being perceived.”

Such was the tenor of the words the agitated and alarmed girl poured out. I felt sure that I could follow no better plan than the one she suggested. Still it was heart-breaking thus to leave her. I have not intruded any part of our conversation on my readers relating more especially to ourselves. She had said all that I could wish to assure me that her heart was still mine, and I had poured out my own long-pent-up feelings into her ears. I had been sitting by her side. She started. A sound was heard in the house—scuffling of feet—a loud scream—people running here and there. The dog barked loudly outside. Two black girls rushed into the room.

“Oh, missie, missie! murder, murder! thieves, thieves!” they cried out. “Dey be here—dey be everywhere!”

Just then they caught sight of me. Instead of screaming, they stood as if petrified. At last, pointing at me, they exclaimed, “Oh, missie, who dat?”

The question was a difficult one to answer, but Madeline showed her presence of mind by replying calmly—

“A friend who little expected to find me here, but he will take care that no harm happens to any one in this house. We may be thankful that he and his followers are here to protect us. Now go and tell the rest of the people who remain in the house that they must not be alarmed. Let them assemble in the hall. I will go and speak to them after I have seen Mrs Elbank and Miss Porter. Go—run! Be good girls, and do as I tell you.”

The quick, firm manner with which she spoke had a wonderful effect on the negresses, and instinctively off they ran, perfectly satisfied, to obey her orders. She explained, briefly, that Mrs Elbank was an old lady, the owner of the house where she and her father were staying.

As soon as the girls had disappeared she took my hand with perfect frankness and maiden modesty, while she looked up into my face with an expression which showed me the true feelings of her heart.

“Farewell, farewell!” she exclaimed. “Let me entreat you not to remain a moment longer. Every instant’s delay may produce danger, and, too probably, bloodshed. Should, by any chance, the militia discover that you are here, they would come back with an overwhelming force and cut you off. Go—oh, go!”

As she spoke these words her feelings overcame her and her sobs choked her utterance. I would have given worlds to have been able to stay and comfort her. I did all I could. I took her in my arms and imprinted a kiss on her brow. It might be the last, but I dared not think so. No, I felt that we should meet again. “I obey you now, dearest,” I cried, in a tone intended to reassure her. “Fear not, I shall escape the danger you dread, and I will return perhaps before long.”

I added some solemn words of comfort, and then I rushed from the room and hurried into the garden where I had left my men. I found from them that O’Driscoll had captured an old negro servant, who, hearing the dog bark, had come out to see what was the matter, and that, conducted by him, he had entered the house where he now was. This accounted for the disturbance I had heard. I accordingly went back to the front door, which was obligingly opened by our friend the negro, who seemed by his manner to have long-expected me. With many bows he led me into a handsome dining-hall, when what was my surprise to find O’Driscoll and another officer seated at a table with an abundance of viands spread before them, and wine of various sorts sparkling in decanters by their side.

“Really, these rebels treat us very well,” said O’Driscoll as I entered. “When we caught that old gentleman he told us that supper was all ready, and that he had been ordered to invite us in to partake of it, and to beg us to remain as long as we felt inclined.”

“I do not doubt it, Mr O’Driscoll,” I answered sternly. “But, sir, we have duties to perform, and our orders were to proceed up the river as far as we could go. Now I have discovered that there are several vessels at Suffolk, four miles above this. We must go and try to cut them out. Thank the owners of the house for their hospitality, but we cannot stay to benefit by it,” said I to the negro, giving him a dollar. “Keep that for yourself, and remember that all Englishmen are not cannibals and savages.”

Having directed O’Driscoll to call in the rest of the other parties guarding the approaches to the house, we quickly assembled at the rendezvous I had appointed outside the gates, whence we set off as fast as we could for the boats. I could not help having some dread lest they should have been attacked during our absence, and if so, I knew that we should at once be made prisoners. I did not, however, express my fears to any one. The way to the boats appeared very long. I thought more than once that we must have mistaken our road. Great was my relief therefore, when I found that we had at length reached the spot where they lay concealed. I now called the other lieutenants round me, and briefly explained to them the information I had obtained. I did not think it necessary to say whence I had obtained it. They unanimously concurred with me that we had done all that could be required of us, and that our only proper course was at once to proceed down the river, and to endeavour to pass our enemies before they could expect us, or were prepared to impede our progress.

“Well, gentlemen, to our boats without delay,” I said—not speaking, however, above a whisper, for I thought it very likely that we might have listeners in ambush. “Rapidly and silently, like Indians on a war trail, let us make the best of our way down the stream. If any boat is disabled, let the one ahead of her take her in tow. If fired at, do not attempt to fire in return, but pull away for our lives. Now shove off.”

Away we went. I took the lead, keeping the centre of the river. Strange as it may appear, I thought much more of the meeting I had just had with Madeline, of all she had said to me, and of all I had said to her, or wished that I had said, than of the terrific danger to which we were exposed. I use the word advisedly. Let any one fancy what it would be to pass down a channel fifty yards wide, each bank being lined with four hundred, or, for what I could tell, twice that number of sharpshooters. The latter hours of the night continued as dark as had been the earlier part; there was a slight rain, or rather mist, which increased the obscurity, while the wind had got up, and its low moaning among the trees assisted to conceal the sound made by the boats as they clove their way through the water. We had also come up with the flood; the tide had now turned, and there was a strong current which much assisted our progress. These circumstances gave me hopes that we might yet successfully run the gauntlet of our enemies. There was another circumstance to be dreaded, which might prove fatal to us. Should the enemy have time to collect any boats and attack us on the river, we could scarcely hope to cut our way past them as well as the riflemen on shore. When any great danger is to be incurred, it is a great relief to be able to speak. This was now denied us, and each man was left to his own thoughts. Mine, I may say, were not gloomy—very far from it. Sometimes they were bright and almost joyous. On we went. When I brought my thoughts back to the present, I could not help feeling that any moment we might see the flashes of a hundred rifles, and hear their sharp cracks as they opened on us. We had got to the southern end of the West Branch, but, as yet, not a sound from the shore had been heard. We were approaching the narrow reach, on the banks of which Mackey’s Mill is situated. Most of us, I believe, felt an inclination to hold our breath as we pulled on. The current here was very strong. I kept as nearly as I could in the centre, the other boats following. I could just distinguish the dark outline of the building we had before visited against the sky ahead of us, when a voice, I knew not whence it came, shouted, “There they are! Fire!”

In an instant the whole line of the shore burst into flame—rapidly sounded the cracks of the rifles, and thickly about our heads flew the bullets. At that moment I thought I saw a canoe dart away down the river, and I doubted not that our enemies had stationed her there to watch for us. Thicker and thicker came the leaden shower, several shots going through the boats’ sides, though as yet no one was hit. Still I had no notion of giving in. “Now, my lads, give way for your lives!” I exclaimed in a loud whisper. “Many a man has passed through hotter fire than this unscathed.”

I scarcely think I was speaking the truth when I said this. So dark was it, however, that I did not believe that we could be seen from the shore, though the flashes of the firearms lighted up the dark woods, the red-brick mill and its out-houses, and threw a lurid glare over the whirling current as it hurried by its overhanging banks, while ever and anon we could clearly distinguish the glancing arms and the figures of our enemies as they stood drawn up along the banks, pouring their fire down upon us.

On we pulled, silently as ever, and as fast as the men could lay their backs to the oars. We were, however, I knew too well, only at the commencement of the narrow passage, and I could not tell what opposition we might have to encounter before we got through it. My boat was light, and pulled easily, but some of the other boats were very slow—the Thames’s long-boat especially—and rowed very heavily, and I kept anxiously turning round to ascertain that they were following me. For some time I could count them, one after the other in line, coming up after me. Then I turned my eyes on the banks of the river. By some means our enemies calculated our downward progress with great accuracy if they did not see us, for, while some were blazing away, I could see other bodies hurrying along the side of the river, to be ready, I doubted not, to attack us as we came down; some were on foot, but others were on horseback, who had much the advantage of us in speed. At last I found that I was getting ahead of the other boats, so I had to slacken my speed till the next boat came up to me. It was the Charon’s cutter, commanded by Mr Bruton. When I looked back I found that the Thames’s long-boat was nowhere to be seen. Bruton said she had only just dropped astern, so begged leave to go and tow her up. This I allowed him to do, telling him that I would remain till he and the other boats came up. I began to fear, however, that the missing boat might have been cut off. Away dashed the gallant fellows after her. Whatever might happen, I resolved not to attempt to escape myself unless I could bring off the rest of the boats or the survivors of their people with me, though, from the fastness of my own boat, I might possibly have effected that object. My men behaved admirably, though exposed to so hot a fire; not a murmur escaped them at the delay, while they lay on their oars waiting for the appearance of the missing boat. The other two boats I saw coming on, and they soon caught me up. Great was my relief to see Bruton, with the Thames’s boat in tow, at the same time emerge from the darkness. Then, once more, away we all went together down the stream.

I own myself that, under other circumstances, I should have very much liked to have had a shot at our pertinacious foes, and I have no doubt so would my followers, but the knowledge that Madeline’s father was among them restrained my arm, and I felt a curious satisfaction in being fired at without attempting to injure my assailants in return, and that I might hereafter be able to assure him that I had not knowingly lifted my hand against him.

We were not long about doing what I have been describing. Had we, I do not believe one of us would have escaped the leaden shower rattling through the air and splashing up the water on every side, literally wetting our faces. I could already feel several holes in the side of my boat close to me; then there was a deep groan of suppressed pain, but no one ceased rowing. On we went. A sharp cry from one of the boats astern of me showed me too clearly that another of my people was wounded. Still the boats dashed on with unabated speed. This success made me hope that we might still escape. We had passed, I thought, the greater part of the narrow portion of the river. I had not much fear, when we could reach the wider parts, that we should get through unless attacked, as I have said, by a flotilla of boats.

Never did I hear such a rattle or cracking of rifles as the four or five hundred militia and irregulars kept up on us. However, there was nothing derogatory to their character as marksmen that they had hitherto done so little execution, for had they been the best sharpshooters in the world, their science would have availed them nothing through the pitchy darkness which happily enveloped us.

At length I fancied that I could distinguish the stream widening away before us, and, judging from the flashes of the fire-arms, the banks were much farther apart than before. I was not mistaken. With a satisfaction I can scarcely express I saw that all our boats had come through, but still the enemy kept up a hot fire astern of us into empty space, evidently not knowing where we were. My men seemed inclined to shout when they found themselves in the wide reach of the river, but I restrained them, not knowing what enemies might be lurking about near us on the water. Then we continued pulling steadily on, till here and there I saw a light gleaming on the shore, which I calculated must come from the town of Nansimond. If a flotilla of boats were on the watch for us, I thought that we should probably here encounter them—not that I any longer despaired of escaping from them, even should they attack us. I had directed the officers not to attempt to retaliate unless actually boarded, but to employ all their energies in making their escape. This was, of course, the wisest policy.

On we went. The town was passed. No boats appeared. We were approaching the mouth of the river. Daylight was now breaking. I was only too thankful that we had not delayed till then to make our way down the river. Either we should all have been taken prisoners, or few if any of us would have survived the murderous fire to which we should have been exposed. At length we emerged from the river and finally arrived on board the Charon at about ten in the morning with only two people wounded, though the upper works of our boats were riddled like sieves.

Thus ended an expedition fraught with so much personal interest to me. We all also gained credit for our exploit. We had completely performed the duty for which we had been sent, having made ourselves thoroughly acquainted with the river, and ascertained that it would be impossible to cut out the vessels which had run up to Suffolk unless a very strong force, if not the whole army, was to proceed up for that purpose. More and more as I thought over what had occurred did I pray that the war might soon cease, and that, if Englishmen must be fighting, they might not be called on to cross their swords with their relatives and friends.

Chapter Twenty Four.

Sent to Hampton with flag of truce.—Visit my friends.—Disappointment.—A foraging expedition, in which I obtain a prong in the leg instead of honour.—A disastrous one made by my shipmates.—A second trip to Hampton.—Attempts on my loyalty.—Expedition proposed under Arnold.—O’Driscoll accompanies me on a trip up the river to warn Madeline.—Meet Colonel Carlyon.—Narrow escape on our return.

I was to have, I found, very little time for rest or reflection. This, I dare say, was the better for me. Scarcely had I breakfasted when I was again sent for to be despatched, as I was told, on special service. My satisfaction, however, was great indeed when I found that I was to be the bearer of a flag of truce to Hampton, with a letter to the patriot, or, as we called him, the rebel general commanding the district.

I was quickly ready to start. I should now be able to send a message to Madeline, to assure her of my safety, and perhaps to make arrangements to keep up a regular communication with her. On one point only was I somewhat puzzled. How could I speak of her without allowing it to be suspected that she had given me the warning by which I had escaped from the trap laid to catch me? I had heard of the stern treatment any of the rebels had received who had been found guilty of treachery towards their party, even from General Washington himself, and I knew not what construction might be put on Madeline’s conduct should it be discovered. I determined, therefore, at all events to be very cautious how I spoke of having met her. These thoughts occupied my mind till I landed. I then hired a horse and a guide, and proceeded with Tom Rockets only as my companion, mounted on rather a sorry jade, towards Hampton. There were not many white men to be seen on the road. The negroes doffed their hats and always addressed me in a civil and friendly way.

Without any adventure I reached Hampton. Having then delivered my despatches I sought out the house of my new friends, the Langtons, where I hoped that I should be able to wait till the reply was ready. As soon as I entered the house I was shown into the drawing-room, where the ladies received me with the greatest kindness. Mrs Langton assured me that, from the way I had treated the inhabitants of Hampton the other night, I should always be received there as a friend. They insisted on having dinner got ready at once for me, and I found that they were collecting all sorts of eatables sufficient to load my horse as well as Rockets and our guides, which they thought might prove useful.

They had heard, I found, nothing of my expedition up the Nansimond river, and as no one could know that I was one of those engaged in it, I considered it prudent to say nothing about the matter, and I trusted that Madeline would remember that, unless she betrayed her secret, none of her friends were likely to discover it. In the course of conversation her cousins spoke frequently of her, and I sent her several messages. I hoped by their tenor that she would understand that I had not mentioned our having met. My great hope was that Mrs Langton, guessing how things stood, would invite her to come to Hampton, and that I might thus have the opportunity of meeting her, should I again be sent on shore with a flag of truce. None but those who have been knocking about for months and years together at sea among rough uncivilised men can fully appreciate the satisfaction which a sailor feels in spending a few brief hours under the soothing influence of refined female society.

It was with a feeling of undisguised annoyance that at last I received my despatches and had to mount my horse to return. No one would have supposed, as my friends bade me farewell, that I was serving on the side of their enemies, and yet I am certain that no more sincere patriots were to be found in America, only they had the sense not to confound the individual with the cause with which circumstances compelled him to side.

The army, with their guns, ammunition, and stores, had now safely disembarked, and were on their march up the banks of James river. The first lieutenant of the Charon, with a detachment of our men, had accompanied them. I was therefore selected in his place to take command of a party consisting of a hundred seamen and marines from the different ships of war, and to go on shore and forage for the squadron. The marines were commanded by a Lieutenant Brown, and I had two navy lieutenants besides under me. No duty I could have been ordered to perform would have been more distasteful, yet I had no choice but to obey and carry it out to the best of my ability. Having landed at Newportneuse, we began our march at eight o’clock in the morning into Elizabeth County. Not having been brought up like some of my Highland friends in the art of levying black mail on my lowland neighbours, I could not help feeling as if I had suddenly turned into a robber when I found myself entering a farm-yard, and, without a word of explanation, quietly collecting the cattle and pigs, or sheep or poultry, and driving them off. We marched about ten miles inland as rapidly as we could, and then, facing about, swept the country before us. On espying a farm we surrounded it, and then, rushing in, we took prisoners all the negroes we could find, and made them drive out the cattle and sheep. The pigs and poultry we killed and placed them in some carts, which, with the horses, we carried off. Having possessed ourselves of everything of value in the farm, notwithstanding the indignant protestations of the farmer’s wife, for the farmer himself was away with the army, I suspect, we proceeded onto the next farm. This was owned by an old man with several sons, we were informed by one of the negroes. The sons were all fine young men, and were either in the militia or belonging to some irregular troops. We expected to find only the old man at home, but as we drew near the outbuildings a fire was opened on us from some loop-holes in the walls. As I had no fancy to have my men shot down I led them rapidly round to the front and charged into the farm-yard, over some slight barricades which had been hastily thrown up. At the same moment a dozen to twenty men rushed out of some sheds on one side and attempted to drive off a herd of cattle from a pen near at hand. I, with Rockets and some of my people, followed them so closely that they were compelled to leave the cattle to defend themselves. Most of them seemed inclined to continue their flight, but an old man, whom I took to be the owner of the farm, exerted himself to rally them, and shouting, “On, friends, on! Drive back the robbers!” charged up towards us. I was rather ahead of my men. Some of his people fired. I suspect the muskets of the rest were not loaded. Before I had time to defend myself the old man had his bayonet through my leg, and had I not used my cutlass pretty smartly the rest would have finished me or carried me off prisoner before my men could come to my rescue. When they did come up, they quickly put the rebels to flight, and I was not sorry to find that his friends had dragged off the brave old man without his receiving any injury. We were taught a lesson by this, to be more cautious in future when plundering the farms, lest they might be found fortified and prepared to receive us. My wound was bad enough to prevent me from walking. Hunting about, we found a horse and a saddle fitted to him, by which means I was able to continue my progress. On arriving at several farms we found that, although no attempt was made to defend them, all the cattle had been driven off and the pigs and poultry concealed. Now and then the grunting of a pig or the cackling of a hen betrayed the dust-hole or cellar in which they were imprisoned. The men were, in most instances, absent, but the women seldom failed to abuse us in no measured terms for our behaviour, nor could I help feeling that we deserved everything, that was said against us. My men, I must say, behaved very well. In no instance did they offer any violence to the villagers, and when they were abused they only laughed and retaliated with jokes, which, if not refined, were harmless.

We continued our foraging labours, (some people might have called them our depredations), till about three o’clock in the afternoon, when I judged that it was necessary to commence our retreat. From the experience I had gained I felt pretty certain that we should be harassed on our march by the enemy. I therefore formed my people in the best order I could for defence. Our six butchers, with their axes, saws, and knives, marched ahead as an advanced guard. We had collected in all fifty-seven head of cattle and forty-two sheep. These were driven by thirty negroes and closely surrounded by the seamen, who formed the centre. In the rear came the marines to cover our retreat, while on each flank I placed four marines, who were occasionally relieved from the rear. Brown laughed at my precautions, and said that they were absurd and useless, and so I found did my lieutenants, but I knew that I was right, and kept to my plan.

Had the country been open our progress would have been easy, but instead of that it was thickly wooded, so that our order of march was constantly broken. I kept riding about, doing all I could to keep the people and the cattle together; but every now and then where the wood was thickest I could see an ox, or a cow, and a couple of sheep, slyly impelled by a cunning negro, stealing away between the trees; and perhaps, while I sent some of the seamen in pursuit of them, others would break away in an opposite direction. Of course, when the negroes were overtaken, they always pretended to be endeavouring by lusty strokes to drive the animals back to us, and there was little use in attempting to punish them. Besides this inconvenience, every now and then, whenever we had to pass any hilly or broken ground behind which an enemy could find shelter, we were certain to be saluted with a shower of rifle-balls. At first I attempted to retaliate by sending some of the marines in pursuit, but by the time they got up to the spot from whence the shots were fired no enemy was to be seen, and I was only too glad to get them back without having them cut off. This showed me that our enemies, though persevering, were not numerous.

Considering all the difficulties I had to encounter, it is not surprising that when we arrived at the place of embarkation our stock had been reduced to forty-three head of cattle, with a proportionate diminution in our sheep, though our two carts with the pigs and poultry arrived all safe. We embarked at seven o’clock in the evening on board some vessels sent to carry us and the result of our foraging expedition, to our respective ships. I had not lost a man, and with the exception of my own hurt, no one was wounded. I felt sure that my success was attributable to the dispositions I had made, and the careful way I had effected my retreat, and that seeing me so well prepared to receive them had prevented the enemy from attacking me. I expressed myself to this effect when I returned on board, but was only laughed at for my pains, and asked what I had to fear from a few despicable rebel boors, whom a volley would in an instant put to flight.

“Very well,” said I. “If any of you have to perform the same work, and do not take similar precautions, depend on it you will have to rue your neglect.”

“Oh, nonsense,” was the answer. “We know what the fellows are made of. They are not worth powder and shot.”

Greatly to my annoyance, the very next day I was again directed to land with the same number of men for the same object. It was satisfactory to know that the way I conducted the expedition was approved of, but yet I would gladly have got off the duty. Just then, finding that a flag of truce was to be sent to Hampton, I solicited the commodore to allow me to go on that service.

“Yes,” he replied. “The inhabitants are acquainted with you; and when you make your appearance they will understand our dispositions are friendly.”

I was much flattered by this compliment, and still more pleased to gain the object I had in view. The commodore told me to direct Lieutenant Fallock, second lieutenant of the Iris, to take charge of the foraging party in my place. I earnestly advised him to use the same precautions I had on the previous day, assuring him, from the experience I had had in the numerous expeditions I had commanded in America, that the people would never attack a force if well prepared for resistance, and that the wise principle the people adopted was only to fight when they could obtain some material advantage. Fallock smiled scornfully. I found that Lieutenant Brown of the marines had been talking to him and telling him of my over-cautious and tedious way of retreating, as he called it. I found afterwards that Brown had advised him to take only forty marines as amply sufficient to defeat any number of the enemy likely to assemble to attack them. The officers who had accompanied me had also told him that, as we had not seen more than twenty rebels in arms at a time, he was not at all likely to encounter more than that number, though it was improbable that any would venture to attack him. Having urged the point as strongly as I could, I proceeded on my mission while Fallock and his party prepared for their expedition.

“Don’t be afraid, Hurry,” said Brown, whom I met as I went down the side, “we shall return in whole skins, and bring you back a good supply of beef and mutton.”

I hired a horse and proceeded as before, without any particular adventure, to Hampton. Having delivered my message to the proper authorities I went to the Langtons.

I own that as I approached the house my heart beat many times quicker than usual, for I could not help persuading myself that Madeline might have gone there. When the door was opened by the black servant I tried to discover by his countenance whether my hopes were likely to be realised.

“Is there anybody here?” I asked with a trembling voice.

“Oh, yes; dere be all do young ladies and Madame Langton all at home. Glad see you, sare,” was the answer I got.

I did not venture to ask more. The drawing-room door was opened. I held my breath. Her likeness was there, but she was not. I dared not ask for her, and I too soon found that my hopes were vain.

I found myself, however, received by the family as an old friend. They had heard from Madeline. She had, with the wisdom which I felt sure belonged to her, not mentioned having seen me. They had, however, from other sources heard of the expedition up the Nansimond river, and of the courteous way, as they expressed it, in which the English had behaved while in possession of Mrs Elbank’s house. It was reported, however, naturally enough, that though the boats had got off, nearly all the people in them had been killed or wounded. I assured my friends that on this point they were under a mistake; but as I did not like to dwell on the subject for fear of betraying myself, I left them still unconvinced that they were in error.

As I was wishing my friends good-bye, a gentleman came in to whom I was introduced. When he heard who I was, he begged that I would delay my departure for a few minutes, saying that he would have the pleasure of accompanying me part of the way. Having delivered a message to the Langtons he left the house, requesting that I would remain till his return. His name, my friends told me, was Sutton, and they added that he was a friend of Colonel Carlyon’s. When I heard this, all sorts of ideas rushed into my head, and I could not help hoping that the meeting would be productive of some important consequence, yet how that was to be I could not tell. Mr Sutton soon returned booted and spurred for a journey.

“Perhaps I may go farther than I at first proposed,” he observed, as we mounted and rode out of the town. “I am glad to meet you, Mr Hurry, for I have heard of you for some time past, and you have won the regard of many patriots by the way in which you have on several occasions behaved towards those who have fallen into your power. I, with the sentiments I entertain, can only wish that you served a better cause, at the same time that I would not seek to induce you, as an officer bearing his Majesty’s commission, to swerve from the allegiance you owe him.”

When Mr Sutton said this I could not help feeling that he wished to try me, so I considered some time before I replied. I then said—

“This barbarous war must some day be brought to an end, and then without any sacrifice of principle I may be able not only to express the feelings I entertain for the people of America, but to act according to them.”

“Well said, sir,” he answered; “we must all eagerly look forward to that time, and, from the way you speak, I feel sure that no temptations would induce you to quit the cause you serve, however much you may sympathise with those opposed to it.”

“I trust not, sir,” said I firmly. “The path of honour is a very clear one; I have always endeavoured to walk in it.”

“I know you have, and perhaps you may wonder why I just now volunteered to accompany you. Thus far I will tell you: I wished to make your acquaintance, and I also considered that I might be of some service to you. Although you bear a flag of truce, so great is the exasperation against all those serving in arms under the traitor Arnold, that I thought it possible you might be insulted, if not injured, by some of the more ignorant country people.”

I thanked Mr Sutton for his kindness, though I suspected that he had other reasons for wishing to accompany me which he did not explain. Of course I could not ask them. He did not mention the names of either Colonel Carlyon or his daughter, and, much as I longed to do so, I could not bring myself to speak of them to one who to me, at all events, was a perfect stranger. He soon also began to talk of affairs in general, and proved himself a very well-informed man and an entertaining companion. I could not help fancying at times that he was endeavouring to draw me out, and to assure himself of what my sentiments really were. We passed several parties of armed men, but when they saw him they doffed their hats, or saluted him in military style, with every mark of respect. When within about a mile of our usual landing-place he reined in his horse.

“I can go no farther with you,” he said; “I have no wish to fall into the power of any of Arnold’s followers. Farewell, Mr Hurry. We may meet again, perhaps, before long, and when we meet I trust that it will be as we now part—as friends.”

I made a suitable reply; and then, turning his horse’s head, he put the animal into a full gallop, and was soon out of sight. It was late when I got on board. A gloom, such as is always felt after a disaster has occurred hung over the ship. The foraging party, or rather a remnant of them, had just returned. They had a melancholy tale to tell. Mr Fallock had taken the same road I had gone on my expedition, and had succeeded in collecting a considerable number of cattle, sheep, pigs and poultry—indeed, forage of all sorts. All went successfully with him and his party till they commenced their return. Instead, however, of marching in the proper order I had proceeded, the cattle were not kept well together, and the men were allowed to scatter about, and, when any of the animals strayed, to follow them to a considerable distance from the main body. The seamen and marines thought it very good fun, and went shouting and laughing along, the officers totally forgetting that they were in an enemy’s country. They had proceeded some few miles without being molested, and were congratulating themselves on their own wisdom, and on my folly in having taken so many unnecessary precautions, when suddenly the crack of a rifle was heard—then another and another—and a band of horsemen were seen galloping up and cutting down the stragglers, who in vain attempted to make a successful resistance. Lieutenant Brown, calling to the men near him, charged the enemy, but the horsemen, wheeling about, left the ground clear for a body of footmen, who, as he advanced, opened a heavy fire on him. He was seen to fall, as were many of those with him; the rest attempted to fly, but the horsemen were upon them, and, with the exception of one man who got back to the main body, they were all cut down, or compelled to yield themselves prisoners. Another small party had, in the meantime, attacked the rest of the stragglers, and had prevented them from falling back on the main body, while the greater part of the cattle were dispersed and driven off. Lieutenant Fallock had, while this was going forward, called in all the remaining seamen and marines round him, and presented as bold a front as he could to the enemy. In spite of his diminished numbers, and the feeling that he had been, in consequence of his own want of forethought and foolhardiness, surprised by an enemy he despised, he fought with the greatest coolness and bravery. Even in numbers he saw that the Americans were inferior to what his party had been at the commencement of the attack, but now he had lost several of the seamen and the greater part of the marines, and the people with him were falling thickly from the bullets of the concealed riflemen. His only chance of escape was to retreat in close order, and as rapidly as he could till he got out of the wood. This he did, facing about, and delivering his fire whenever an enemy appeared. Outside the wood he made a bold stand, and drove back his foes, keeping up a hot fire on them till he found that his ammunition was almost expended. Then once more he retreated. He had escaped without a hurt, though several shots had passed through his clothes, and many of his people were wounded. With the remnant he at last succeeded in reaching the landing-place, where the boats were in waiting for him.

The next day, when I went on shore to inquire for Brown, I found that he had just died of his wounds. Nine marines were killed, eleven were taken prisoners unhurt, and several more were found on the ground wounded, while of those who got off very few escaped unhurt. Such was the termination of this foraging expedition—the disaster arising entirely from the folly of the officers, who would persist, as many had before done, in despising their enemy, and refusing to take the proper precautions to guard against surprise. This is only one of many instances of a similar folly which I observed throughout the American war. I speak of military officers especially. There is something in the character of Englishmen which makes them over-confident and foolhardy, and they will require to be taught by some very severe lessons before they learn the importance of caution. This want of caution in an officer, when entrusted with the lives of brave men, is a very great fault, and shows great folly and an unfitness for command. The vice, I am happy to say, is not so prevalent generally in the navy. Most spirited and dashing enterprises are undertaken, and are successful, for the very reason that forethought is employed and proper precautions are taken to ensure success. Young officers are too apt to mistake want of caution for spirit and bravery, and to despise those who are careful and anxious for the lives as well as for the health of those entrusted to their care. I am now an old man, but I find these sentiments penned in my journal, written at the time of the occurrence I have described, and they have been still more and more impressed by the experience of fifty years. Since then a long, long catalogue of melancholy disasters might be chronicled, all contributing to sully the glory of the British arms, which have arisen from those two causes—the neglect of proper precaution, and a foolish conceited contempt of the enemy.

Where a subject is matter of history I need but briefly touch on it and I have therefore often skimmed over subjects of far more importance than those I have described. I will now give a sketch of the proceedings of the troops under General Arnold, and the mode in which the ships of war were employed in assisting them. Having marched up James river, supported by some small ships of war, as I have before mentioned, the general reached Burds Landing on the 6th of January, and from thence, with only fifteen hundred men, pushed on to Richmond, the capital of Virginia—a distance of no less than one hundred and forty miles from the Capes of Virginia. He defeated all the forces sent against him, and arriving in that city, destroyed or brought off large quantities of stores, provisions, ammunition and some guns and stand of arms, returning to Burds Landing with the loss only of three killed and fifteen wounded. This was one of the most important expeditions undertaken into the interior of the country, for all the stores I have mentioned were destined for the supply of the southern army of the rebels opposing Lord Cornwallis in the Carolinas. It was followed up on the 12th by an expedition headed by Colonel Simcoe, who with his own corps surprised two hundred rebel militia and killed or took prisoners about fifty of them. On the 14th the troops moved to the town of Smithfield, where they captured forty hogs-heads of tobacco. On the 15th the troops evacuated Smithfield, and the squadron moved down to Newportneuse. On the following day that very active officer, Colonel Simcoe, was engaged in a skirmish with the rebels, the result of which was that he made prisoners of an officer and fifteen privates of a militia regiment. The occupation of Portsmouth had now, I found, been determined on. It stands on a southern branch of that estuary called Hampton Roads, into which James river empties itself. Between it and Smithfield is the Nansimond river with Mackey’s Mills situated on its bank, about half-way up, while higher still on the West Branch was the house belonging to Mr Elbank, where I found Miss Carlyon on the night I and my party so narrowly escaped being cut off. The moment the above information reached me, and I ascertained the direction the army was to march, I became alarmed lest they should pass near Mr Elbank’s house and take possession of it. I knew too well what had occurred on former occasions, and if it was known to have been occupied by Colonel Carlyon, it would too probably be destroyed, and the inmates alarmed and inconvenienced, if not insulted and injured. I had every reason to believe that Miss Carlyon was still there with her friends, unless our visit to the place had been a warning to them to quit it. What could I do to save her? I thought rapidly over the subject. I was not long in coming to a resolution. I must find some means of communicating with her. Could I trust any one with the message? No—at every risk I must go myself. Any personal danger was of course not to be taken into consideration, and I reflected that the cause I served could, not be injured by any information I could give her. Besides this, in a public point of view, I and those under my command, in our late expedition up the Nansimond, owed her a debt of gratitude for the warning she had given us, which we, to the best of our power, were bound to repay. Sometimes I thought that I would go openly to the commodore and ask his leave to go up the river to Mr Elbank’s, and then again I was afraid that by some means or other Miss Carlyon’s name might become known, and that her party might hear that she had given the information by which my companions and I had been preserved from the ambush laid for us. That would expose her to an annoyance to which I would on no account subject her. I easily persuaded myself that I alone could properly go. Perhaps the prospect of seeing her biassed me. I knew that I could depend on assistance. Although O’Driscoll had been less cordial with me since the night of our expedition, in consequence of the way I had spoken to him, I knew that he would be delighted to accompany me if I asked him; so of course would Tom Rockets. We had picked up, some time before, a light, fast-pulling canoe, which a couple of hands could send along at a great rate. The use of this I could command. How to get leave to quit the ship for a night was the difficulty. Without leave I could not go. Neither would I tell a falsehood to obtain leave. I resolved, therefore, to go frankly to Captain Symonds, to plead my constant good conduct, and to beg that he would trust me and O’Driscoll and one man away from the ship to carry out a matter of importance. I went to him accordingly. He hesitated a good deal, as I knew he would. He asked to have the matter more fully explained to him. I told him that I would rather not explain it—that should it fail, no blame might be attached to him.

“There must be blame if I allow you to leave the ship ignorant of where you are going, and any ill results from your expedition,” he answered.

I saw that he was right.

“Well, sir, then, as you desire it, I will tell you my object, and leave it to your generosity to allow me to accomplish it,” I answered, lifting up my head and looking boldly at him, for I felt relieved of a difficulty. I told him briefly the state of the case.

“I do not hesitate a moment in giving you leave, and for such an object will gladly share the blame, if blame there be,” he replied with a well-satisfied look.

It was amusing to witness O’Driscoll’s delight at the thoughts of the expedition.

“Arrah! now, that’s just as it should be!” he exclaimed; “and, my dear boy, now, if you could but clap the sweet girl into the boat and pull off with her, you’d be placing her out of danger, plaising yourself and doing the right thing.”

I did not argue the subject with him, as I had already done so in vain, but I let him run on. From the alacrity with which he set about our preparations it might have been supposed that he was the person most interested in the result. A light boat was easily procured. Rockets was of course ready to accompany us. We resolved to go without arms, but to wear our uniforms that we might not be accused of being spies. I wrote a letter, which I kept in my pocket, addressed to Colonel Carlyon, informing him that my object in visiting the house where he was residing was to request him to remove his family and friends from it, lest it should become the scene of strife between the contending parties. Should we be taken prisoners I intended to show this and to claim his assistance to obtain our release. We left the ship early in the evening, and with a fair wind our light skiff flew quickly over the water towards the mouth of the Nansimond river. I never saw O’Driscoll in such high feather. Had I been inclined to be in low spirits he would have kept them up. Commend me to such a companion in all cases of this sort, he joked, he told good stories, he sang and rattled on without cessation. It was sufficiently dark when we neared the mouth of the river to enable us, with our sail lowered, to enter without much chance of being seen from the shore. Though the wind was fair, of course after that we could not venture to carry sail, so we took it by turns to steer while the other two pulled. Lights were glimmering in Nansimond as we passed, but we gave the town a wide berth, and then had little to apprehend except from a stray boat, till we got up to Mackey’s Mills. We kept a sharp look-out, to avoid any boat crossing or coming down the stream. As we glided by the mills we could hear voices of people speaking in them, but we kept near the opposite bank, and no one, we fancied, saw us. Of course our oars were muffled, and as we sat as low as we could in our little boat, very sharp eyes would have been required to make us out. As long as there was a flood-tide we got on very well, but it was high water before we got to Mackey’s Mills, and in a short time a strong current set against us. It was hard work in some spots pulling against it; not that I minded that, but I was anxious to hurry on to perform my mission and to assure myself that Miss Carlyon had retired to a place of safety. We had just got into the broader part of the stream, when, as I peered through the darkness ahead, I fancied I saw a large object coming right down upon us. I instantly steered the boat over to the north shore, and in a whisper told O’Driscoll and Rockets to cease pulling. I was but just in time, for immediately after a large boat full of people hove in sight. We could hear them talking, and we made out that they expected an attack that very night from the English. Had they seen us they would probably have supposed we had been sent in advance, and would have shot us all down. The circumstances made us consider how we should manage to return, for they would certainly be on the look-out for us. Other boats also would be coming down, which we might have some difficulty in avoiding. Still, what I had undertaken I was determined to accomplish. We pulled on without stopping. No other boat was seen. At length we reached what we believed to be the place where we had landed on the night when I had met Miss Carlyon. I knew it by the peculiar outline of the trees—otherwise it might have been easily passed. O’Driscoll agreed with me that I was right; so, running in under the bank, we effectually concealed our boat in the bushes, and, clambering up, stood on the open ground with the house we were in search of at no great distance from us. After a short consultation O’Driscoll consented to remain near the boat with Rockets, while I proceeded alone to the house. If I was well received I was to summon him. My heart beat pretty fast as I approached the door. It did not occur to me till my hand was actually on the knocker that it was nearly midnight, and that in all probability the family would be in bed. However, I knocked with tolerable distinctness, and then waited the result. I saw lights gleaming at the windows, and before long a voice in negro accents asked who was there and what was wanted.

“A messenger with important information for Colonel Carlyon or his daughter,” I answered. “I come alone, as a friend, tell your master.”

“Admit him,” said a voice.

The door was opened and I entered. Before me stood an officer in uniform, with a brace of pistols in his belt and a sword by his side, evidently prepared for service. I threw open my own cloak to show what I was, and followed the officer into a well-lighted room on one side of the passage. Supper was on the table, and another gentleman was in the room. I instantly recognised him as my companion on my ride from Hampton.

“Ah, Mr Hurry, I am glad to see you!” he exclaimed in a cordial tone, stretching out his hand. “I little expected to meet you again so soon. What brings you here?”

Now I was prepared to warn Miss Carlyon and her lady friends of danger, but I had no intention of giving information to a stranger of the movements of the British army. I felt myself placed at once in a dilemma. I need have had no scruples on the subject, as the enemy often knew as much about the matter as anybody else. I hesitated before replying.

“I came to give some information to Colonel Carlyon, on which I expected that he and his daughter only would act,” I answered. “I have never met Colonel Carlyon. Do I see him now?”

“You do,” said the officer to whom I had first spoken. “I am Colonel Carlyon, and I am glad to welcome you, sir, to thank you for the inestimable service you have more than once rendered those dearest to me. Whatever you have to communicate you may say freely before this gentleman, my most intimate friend.”

Feeling that I might trust to them, I, without further delay, told them the object of my adventure.

“You have not come alone, though,” he remarked, after thanking me cordially for the information I had given him.

I told him that O’Driscoll and Rockets were waiting for me at the boat. He insisted on sending for them, and in a very short time they made their appearance, and while the negro took care of my follower, we were soon pleasantly seated at supper. I, as may be supposed, was hoping that I might have an opportunity of seeing Madeline. At last I mustered courage to ask for her. Her father hesitated, I thought, before he replied. At length he said—

“Yes, she will indeed wish to thank you personally for the risk you have run, and the exertion you have made for her sake; but I know not whether your meeting can be productive of advantage to either of you. A wide gulf separates one from the other. I know not how it can be crossed. I would rather, sir, that you would not insist on this interview.”

He spoke, it seemed to me, in a stiff and constrained manner. I could only repeat what I had before said to Madeline. “This war must before long come to an end, and then I will come and claim her for my wife,” I answered boldly.

“Well spoken, sir,” said Mr Sutton, turning to me. “With my opinions, I can only regret that you have to wait till the war is terminated. I can answer for it that Madeline would not forgive us if we sent you away without letting you see her. When you have finished supper, if you go into the drawing-room, you will probably find her there.”

My heart gave a jump, and as to putting another mouthful down my throat I found it impossible. I got up and hurried into the room I had before met her in. She was there. The old negro had taken good care to tell her of my arrival. I will not describe our meeting, and all we said, and the hopes we indulged in. I was amply repaid for what I had done for her sake. Her father and Mr Sutton were, I found, about to start on some expedition, but the news I brought them made them alter their plans. The time too soon arrived that I must take my departure. It was with a pang I left her, not knowing when the uncertain chances of war would again allow us to meet.

“Remember, should you ever desire to quit the standard you now serve under, you will be welcomed in a land of freedom, and we shall not expect you to turn your arms against your former comrades,” said Mr Sutton, as he wished me farewell.

I felt very much inclined to quarrel with him for the remark. It sounded strangely like asking me to turn traitor to my country, and I was glad that Colonel Carlyon did not repeat the remarks of his friend. We left the family about to prepare for their departure in the morning, while we returned to the river. O’Driscoll said nothing till we had once more taken our seats in the boat, and then he expressed his disappointment at what he called the tameness of the result of our expedition.

“Arrah, now, I thought we should have had some little fun at all events,” he exclaimed. “I was waiting to see you appear with the lady in your arms, and to have the old colonel with his pistols popping away after us while we were pulling like fury for life and liberty down the river; and after all to have it end in a quiet pleasant supper, and some matter-of-fact conversation, is very provoking. However, your friends gave us some capital Burgundy, and that is some consolation.”

In this strain the eccentric Hibernian ran on till I had to hint that it would be wiser not to speak, lest we might be overheard by any of the enemy. He then told me that Colonel Carlyon and Mr Sutton had given him a pass that, should we fall in with any of their party, we might not be stopped. We, however, proceeded as cautiously as before, for we had no wish that our expedition should become known. We got as far as Mackey’s Mills without meeting with any adventure. As before, we gave it a wide berth, for we could hear the sound of voices, and it appeared evidently occupied by a body of men. However, as long as they all kept talking together they were less likely to discover us. We paddled, therefore, quickly and cautiously on, but without any apprehension of being found out. We had almost lost sight of the mill, and were congratulating ourselves on getting clear altogether, when the stillness of the night was broken by a loud sharp voice exclaiming—

“There they go! Give it them, lads, give it them! After them, after them!”

The next moment a sharp fire of musketry was opened on us, the flashes, however, showing that we had passed the spot where our enemies were posted. The balls, however, fell round us unpleasantly thick. Then again there was another volley, and, by the flash of the pieces, we could see a number of men hurrying into a boat, with, we had no doubt, the intention of pursuing us. Our skiff pulled well. O’Driscoll and Rockets, who were rowing, bent manfully to their oars. Away we flew over the water, and though the troops on the shore still continued to fire, the bullets happily flew wide of us. We had a good start of the pursuing boat. From the glimpse we got of her she was of some size, but if, as we hoped, she was heavy in proportion to her size, that would be in our favour. At all events, all we could do was to pull away with all our might, and to keep a straight course down the river. We could hear the shouts of our pursuers, and of the people hailing them from the shore. They only induced us to make greater exertions to keep ahead of them. On we dashed. In a short time we felt sure that we were already distancing them. Their voices grew fainter and fainter. We got into the broad part of the river. We had now another chance of escape. Should they be overtaking us, we might slip on one side, and in the darkness and eagerness of the chase they would probably pass by without observing us. Still that was not our wish. We wanted to get out of the river without being questioned. On we went, till we could neither see nor hear anything of our pursuers. At last a few lights here and there of some midnight watchers were seen glimmering from the town of Nansimond. We glided by it. We reached the mouth of the river, and not till then did we slacken our speed. I then relieved O’Driscoll at the oar. I was duly grateful for the exertions he had made for me, but I evidently did not hold a high place in his estimation.

“Ah, you English boys don’t understand how to do things!” he observed, with a sigh. “In ould Ireland we’d have managed an affair of the sort very differently.”

Just at daylight we got on board our ship—I, at all events, being very well contented with the result of our expedition. I afterwards heard that the Americans stated that they had pursued and chased a large British flotilla out of the river with only a couple of boats, and that we had lost twenty men in killed and wounded. From so slight a source does many a tale of wonder spring.

Chapter Twenty Five.

Operations under Colonel Simcoe.—Sent to Mackey’s Mills.—My friend’s house sacked.—Colonel Carlyon taken prisoner.—Render him a service.—Troops embark at night.—My loyalty questioned.—Mills burnt.—In command of Rattlesnake.—Sail with prizes.—A wintry voyage.—New York once more.—Serve on board Chatham.—Mismanagement of the war.—Rejoin Charon.

I must endeavour to get on more rapidly than heretofore with my account of public matters. On the 18th of January the British army marched from Smithfield southward, and the squadron moved down to Newportneuse. Among the most active of the English officers was Colonel Simcoe. On the 16th he surprised and took prisoners an American officer of militia and fifteen privates. From the report I heard I was much in fear that Colonel Carlyon was the officer taken, but I had no means of ascertaining whether or not such was the case. At all events, I hoped that his daughter was in a place of safety.

On the 18th the army reached Mackey’s Mills, and I received orders to proceed with a detachment of boats to supply them with bread and other provisions. I hoped now to gain the information I was so anxious to possess. Our present expedition was very different to those in which I had before been engaged. We now went up in daylight, with a force which no enemy was likely to attack. Mackey’s Mills were reached soon after noon, and when I had delivered the provisions I was ordered to remain to assist in passing the troops across the river on their way to the attack of Portsmouth. The embarkation was not to take place till midnight, so I had ample time to go up the river to ascertain whether the house where Madeline had been residing had been attacked. O’Driscoll was ready enough to accompany me, to give me, as he observed, one chance more of doing the proper thing; but, before I went, I was anxious to ascertain whether Colonel Carlyon had indeed fallen into our hands. I had, at the same time, no reason to fear that he would be treated harshly or with want of courtesy. Only, if he was a prisoner, I naturally wished to see him, that I might offer him all the assistance in my power. Going on shore, after some difficulty I found out Colonel Simcoe’s quarters at a farm-house a mile away from the mills. I introduced myself to him, and told him my errand—that I was acquainted with Colonel Carlyon’s family, and that I wished to be of service to him. He replied that the officer he had taken had refused to give his name and rank to the party who had captured him.

“I understood that he and his men were surprised,” I remarked.

“Not at all,” was the answer. “He was apparently covering the retreat of another party who appeared to have some women and other encumbrances among them. To do the rebel gentleman justice, he fought very bravely, and did not yield till he was completely overpowered.”

I begged that I might see the prisoner, and, after some little hesitation on the part of the colonel, he handed me the necessary order. Thanking him for his courtesy, I set off for the cottage used as a prison. It was situated a quarter of a mile nearer the mills. A strong guard was posted in the neighbourhood, and a couple of sentries paced up and down before it. I showed my order to the lieutenant in charge of the party and was at once admitted. I looked round the chamber. Near a casement window, seated on a rough stool, with a cask serving as a table, I beheld Colonel Carlyon. He turned his head when I entered, and I thought that his countenance brightened when he saw me. He rose and held out his hand.

“I regret, sir, to see you here as a prisoner,” said I. “Hearing that an officer had been captured, I hastened, should it prove to be you, to offer such services as I am able to render.”

“The fortune of war, Mr Hurry. I may be thankful that I have escaped wounds or death,” he answered in a cheerful tone. “Believe me, I am grateful to you for this attention, and I only wish that I had the means of showing my gratitude.”

He, of course, well knew that he might some day have the power of showing it most effectually. My first inquiry was, of course, respecting the safety of his daughter, and he assured me that he had every reason to believe that she and her companions had reached the house of some relations in the interior, and that he should have accompanied them had he not been so hotly pursued by Colonel Simcoe’s persevering and lightly-accoutred troops. When he heard that I had made preparations to go up to Mrs Langton’s house he exclaimed—

“You may render me a great service by so doing. In the hurry of our departure, in consequence of your warning, a small desk was left behind. It contains not only money and jewels of considerable value, but some papers of the greatest importance. I had but just discovered my loss when I was taken prisoner, and the only person I could have entrusted to go in search of it was killed in the same skirmish in which I became a prisoner.”

I naturally was much pleased with this opportunity of rendering a service to Colonel Carlyon. I had but little time, however, left in which to perform it. After he had explained to me in what part of the house I was to look for the desk, I took my departure and hastened back to the river, where I found O’Driscoll with Rockets and two other men waiting for me. The tide was favourable, so that we had no difficulty in getting there. The scenery wore so different an aspect by daylight to what it had done in the dark that we could scarcely recognise the spots we passed. We landed and approached the house. There, indeed, was a melancholy change. The shrubberies had been cut down, the garden trampled under foot, and the house itself plundered and set on fire—I think by accident—I scarcely believe it could have been done wantonly. I began to fear, when I saw what had occurred, that I must give up all hopes of finding the desk of which I was in search. O’Driscoll and I felt very indignant when we saw the destruction which had been wrought by our troops.

“Well, after all, war is a dirty business!” he exclaimed, after contemplating the scene of ruin for some minutes without speaking. “Fighting in the open field, where hard blows are given and taken, and man meets man on equal terms, is all very well in its way. I don’t object to sacking a town which holds out when it should have given in, but the burning down of old ladies’ houses, and injuring the property of people who could not have caused any offence, I cannot stand. I should like now to discover the officer who was commanding here and allowed this. I would pick a quarrel with him and call him out to a certainty.”

My friend had certainly curious notions, not uncommon among his countrymen in these days. Sad, indeed, was the scene of havoc and destruction which met our gaze on every side, not only about the house, but in the fields and cottages in the surrounding country—war’s melancholy consequences. We had no time to contemplate it.

“Come, O’Driscoll,” said I, “we will search through the ruins for my friend’s case, but I scarcely expect to find it.”

“Something like looking for a needle in a rick of hay,” he answered; “or, rather, far more hopeless, for it is very unlikely that the case should have escaped being burnt or carried off.”

O’Driscoll, Rockets and I hunted in different directions. I first endeavoured to find the room which Colonel Carlyon had described to me. That portion of the house had not suffered so much as the rest; most of the flooring of the room was burnt, but the fire had been extinguished before the whole had been consumed. I climbed up to it, not without risk, for the burnt rafters gave way under my feet. I knew the room from the position of the window, which looked into a little courtyard. A portion of the furniture had escaped, though blackened and disfigured. My hopes revived as to finding the desk. I hunted eagerly round. It was too evident that everything considered of value had been carried away. I was about to scramble down again by the way we had come up when I bethought me of looking out of the window for the enjoyment of the prospect, which was a very beautiful one. Woods, fields, the terraced garden, distant hills, and the river rushing by were well combined to form it. As I looked out, my eye fell on a heap of rubbish in one corner of the courtyard, with burnt and broken pieces of furniture, and I fancied that I saw the edge of such a case as I was in search of sticking out from among them. I quickly descended and found my way to the spot. I eagerly pulled out the object I had seen. It was a peculiarly old-fashioned, unattractive-looking case, and from its outward appearance no one would have supposed that it contained objects of value. I felt sure that I was right, and that I had got the object I was seeking. I sang out to O’Driscoll, who after a little time heard my voice and was delighted at my good fortune. Calling Rockets, we then hurried back to the boat. There was no time to be lost, for night was coming on; we had a long pull before us, and I was anxious to deliver the case to Colonel Carlyon without delay. After this I had to assist in getting the boats ready for the embarkation of the troops. Away we pulled. O’Driscoll was in high feather, laughing and joking to his heart’s content.

“You’re in a fair way now, at all events, to win the lady, my boy,” said he. “Only just keep moving, and put yourself under my guidance. We must soon knock this rebellion on the head, and then, do ye see, you can step in and be of still greater service to the father and the family, and claim your reward. Oh! it’s beautiful. I see it all now as clear as a pikestaff.”

Certainly, we neither of us at the time thought what a different turn affairs were to take from what he was then calculating on. Yet, I must own, I had even then my misgivings on the subject. As soon as we landed, I hurried as fast as my legs could carry me to the cottage where Colonel Carlyon was kept a prisoner. His satisfaction was very great when I delivered the case to him, and the way in which he expressed his gratitude was manly and cordial in the extreme.

“It is useless for a prisoner to make promises, which, should your party finally triumph, he may never be able to fulfil,” he observed with a grave look. “In the latter case, those taken with arms in their hands may be hung, drawn and quartered as traitors, in accordance with the time-honoured custom of our fathers. If the patriots are victorious, the prisoners will be liberated with all the honours which can be showered on them, and I may have the satisfaction of proving that I am not ungrateful for what you have done for me and mine.”

I found some difficulty in answering properly to these remarks. I could not say that I wished the royal cause not to succeed, and yet I certainly did not desire to see the Americans completely defeated and humbled. I therefore said—

“I trust that a peace, honourable to both parties, may ere long be established, and that the Americans may gain to the full what they consider their just rights.”

“That will never be unless victory smiles on our arms,” he replied with a faint smile. “We must conquer to obtain our rights. What has hitherto been denied will never be otherwise granted.”

I looked at my watch. I found that I must hasten back to the boats.

“Farewell, sir!” I said. “I have duties to which I must attend at present, but I will endeavour, if possible, to see you again before I return to my ship.”

“Stay one moment,” said he; “I would ask you to ascertain from our friends at Hampton if they have received positive information as to the safety of my daughter and her relatives. When you gain it send me word, and you will add to the weight of the debt of gratitude I already owe you.”

He said this in a stiff way, as if unwilling to give me the task. This I thought but natural. Though I was conferring obligations on him, my position as a poor lieutenant was unaltered, and I knew that he could not desire to entrust his daughter’s happiness to my charge, even should peace be established. It was almost the hour appointed for the embarkation of the troops when I got down to the river. So well had our arrangements been made, that I doubt whether the enemy knew what we were about. There is something particularly exciting and wild in the movement of a large body of armed men at night. I could not help remarking the scene in which I was taking so active a part. Rapidly flowed by the dark river; boats crowded with men and horses were continually passing, while others were returning empty for a further supply; people with torches were stationed on both banks of the river, to enable the soldiers, as they came down, to take their proper places in the boats, the lights from the flaming brands throwing a ruddy glare over the stream, and making the tall buildings of the mills stand out prominently from the dark forest in the background. All night long the work was going on, for it was a slow process to get across horses, artillery and ammunition, provisions and baggage. The first thing in the morning, after his men had rested but a couple of hours, the indefatigable Colonel Simcoe set off towards Portsmouth to summon the town to surrender. At 2 p.m. the army began their march, and arrived before the place the following day, when the inhabitants, finding that resistance was useless, surrendered at discretion. I endeavoured to ascertain where Colonel Carlyon and the other prisoners had been placed, but was unable to discover any clue to their place of imprisonment. As soon as the rear of the army was out of sight, all the officers commanding boats assembled on board a brig, which had been captured in the Nansimond river, previous to returning to our ships. It was with much regret that I heard it proposed to burn Mackey’s Mills, and to ravage the country round, in consequence of the attack which had been made on our boats. I opposed the suggestion with all my might. I said that I thought it a wanton destruction of property, that would in no way advance our cause, and would certainly exasperate the sufferers against us. Not only were my counsels disregarded, but several remarks were made hinting pretty broadly that I was too friendly disposed towards the enemy. I had to stand a severe fire from several of my brother-officers. Some, among whom was O’Driscoll, began to joke, and I took it very ill from him, as he knew the depth of my sentiments, and I considered his conduct a breach of confidence. Others went on from joking to make more serious remarks, which I felt reflected on my honour, so much so that I rose up and declared that if another observation of the sort was ventured on by any present, I must insist on settling the matter at another time and place. Some held their peace after this, but some continued to talk of officers showing lukewarmness and want of loyalty to the king’s cause, and to declare that such had better declare themselves to be the rebels they were at heart.

The last man who spoke was a Lieutenant Dawson. I was surprised that he should venture to speak thus, for he was a man of whose spirit or courage I had but a mean opinion. My impulse was to throw a pocket-pistol I seized hold of across the table at his head, but I restrained my anger. Though he was my junior in the service, we were engaged on public duty together, and, under these circumstances, it was a serious matter for one officer to strike another, even in those days.

“Mr Dawson, you must know what you say is false, sir,” I exclaimed. “Can any one here say that I have been slack in my duty—that I have ever shown the white feather—that I have ever done anything derogatory to the character of an officer and a gentleman? If no one here condemns me—then, sir, I shall make you eat your words, and acknowledge that the insinuations on which you have ventured were most foul and unjust.”

No one spoke. Dawson looked confounded.

“No one condemns me,” I added. “That is well; but will no one speak in my favour—will no one say that, to the best of his knowledge, I have never failed in my duty, or acted otherwise than as a British officer ought to act?”

“In faith, Hurry, I’ll speak in your favour, my boy, and gladly too,” cried O’Driscoll, with all the enthusiasm of which his warm heart was capable. “If every one fought as well, and did their duty as completely as you do, we should have had this war over long ago—that’s my belief; and small blame to you if you think a pair of bright eyes in this western hemisphere brighter than any to be found in the old country; besides, you’ve never been in my part of Ireland, or you might be of a different opinion. Now, gentlemen, if any one has anything to say against Mr Hurry, then let him say it to me. I’ll settle the matter for him.”

This diversion of O’Driscoll’s completely silenced all opposition to me, and Dawson, not wishing to come into a personal conflict with my hot-headed though warm-hearted Irish friend, slunk out of the cabin.

I was, however, left in a decided minority with respect to an attack on the mills, which it was determined forthwith to destroy. I was of course under the orders of the commanding officer of the brigade of boats, who happened to be Lieutenant Edwards, first of the Charon, so that I had no choice but to obey. As soon as our crews had taken some refreshment we pulled away in battle array for the mills. A few irregulars and armed peasantry, who had entered the place when the army had quitted it, were speedily put to flight when we landed. Piles of brushwood were collected and heaped up inside the building in different parts of it. Fire was set to them, and rapidly the flames burst forth, and, catching the dry wood-work of the mills, were soon seen climbing up from storey to storey, twisting themselves in and out of the windows, and encircling the beams and rafters in their deadly embrace. I never saw any building so rapidly consumed. Higher and higher rose the devouring flames; down came tumbling the roof and lofty walls; with loud crashes the floors fell in; showers of bright sparks flew on every side, and nothing but a mass of burning ruins—a huge bonfire—remained before us. The men shouted when they saw the destruction they had caused, like mischievous schoolboys. They little thought or cared to whom the property belonged, or who were the sufferers. They would just as readily have burnt it had it belonged to royalists. They enjoyed the sight of the conflagration—the effects of their own handiwork. Many of the officers, too, shouted and clapped their hands, and seemed to take as much pleasure in the mischief they were producing as the men; but this might have been a mere exhibition of their loyalty and patriotism. Having thus effectually destroyed the mills, our commanding officer ordered us to march into the interior to forage, or, in other words, to plunder any farms the army had spared, and to commit any other acts of mischief the time would allow. I need not enter into particulars. Cattle we spared, as we could not carry them off, but we collected sheep and pigs and fowls wherever we could find them. To this, of course, I could not object, as provisions were necessary; but at length we came to the house of a gentleman—a colonel of militia we were told—and, though no defence of it was attempted, it was proposed to burn it to the ground. Against this further wanton destruction of property I loudly protested—

“It has lately been said that I am a friend of the rebels,” I exclaimed. “That I deny; but I do not deny that I am ashamed to see my countrymen destroy the property of people who make no resistance, and who are Englishmen as much as we are. Such conduct can only cause a bitter hatred to spring up in the breasts of the sufferers, which will make them refuse ever again to become our fellow-subjects and friends.”

Mr Edwards did not at all like my interference; but my remonstrance had an effect, and though he allowed the house to be plundered, and the furniture to be destroyed, he soon after ordered a retreat, observing that he could not depend on my co-operation or assistance. The owner of the house, as it turned out, was in the neighbourhood, with a considerable body of men, and he very nearly succeeded in inflicting a severe retaliation on us by surprising and cutting off our party. However, we discovered his approach in time to get into order, and, though he and his men followed us for some way, we kept him at bay, and reached the river without loss. Lieutenant Edwards at once returned on board our ship in the Charon’s barge, leaving me in command of the boats—directing me to land and forage at any convenient spot towards the mouth of the river. Here again, however much against my inclination, I must obey orders. We had observed a large farm a little above the town of Nansimond. As we proceeded down the river we suddenly pulled in towards the shore. Sixty men, without a moment’s delay, ran on and surrounded the farm before the inmates had time to drive away any of the stock, or, indeed, had perceived our approach. We soon collected everything eatable on which we could lay hands, and were in our boats and away again before any force had time to assemble from the neighbourhood to attack us. Such was the system of warfare which I believe General Arnold recommended and encouraged—the most galling and injurious to the unhappy colonists. We got on board our ships by midnight, with provisions sufficient to supply all the ships’ companies for a couple of days.

The Rattlesnake, a ship pierced for fourteen guns, but mounting ten three-pounders and six swivels, had been captured at Portsmouth, and the next morning I received orders to take command of her, to fit her for sea, and to hold myself in readiness to proceed with charge of all the rest of the prizes to New York.

The army was at this period employed in throwing up works for the defence of Portsmouth, and in making excursions into the surrounding country to crush, it was said in the despatches, any embers of rebellion which might yet be smouldering there. As I have before remarked, the way taken to produce the desired result was anything but effectual. I was very nearly being deprived of my new command in a somewhat summary way by the sinking of my vessel. A terrifically heavy gale of wind sprang up on the night of the 21st, and first driving one of the larger prizes foul of her, which carried away my fore and cross-jack yards, fore channels, both quarters and best bower-anchor, (such a grinding and crushing and crashing I never before got on board any craft); scarcely was she clear when another craft came thundering down aboard of me, and very nearly completed the work which the other had commenced. However, I did manage to swim while several other vessels drove on shore and were, with all their crews, lost. For several days after that I was employed in refitting my ship for sea.

On the 25th I proceeded with my convoy of prizes to Portsmouth, and when there, General Arnold sent for me and informed me that the commodore had assured him I should immediately sail in the Rattlesnake for New York with despatches for Sir Henry Clinton. After he had handed me his despatches I took my departure. He informed me of their contents that, should I be compelled to throw them overboard, I might be able to give a verbal report to Sir Henry of the wants of the army. Those wants were not a few. More guns, ammunition, food and clothing,—all were required.

On reaching Sewel’s Point, where I brought up to receive the commodore’s despatches, I was surprised to receive an order to return immediately and to give back those entrusted to me by General Arnold. This order originated, I afterwards discovered, in consequence of some unaccountable disagreement which had arisen between the general and the admiral. General Arnold said nothing when I gave him back his despatches, but he looked not a little angry and astonished. When the heads fell out it is not surprising that want of success was the result of their undertakings. My journal is full of various little incidents which happened at this time. The Charlestown and Hope captured in the Chesapeake a rich fleet of eight rebel merchantmen bound for the Havannah. The lieutenant of the Swift was made prisoner in consequence of an illegal use of a flag of truce. Several officers and men were blown up when chasing a rebel brig, and an artillery officer, heading a foraging party, was killed. The squadron was kept on the alert by an account brought by the General Monk sloop-of-war of a French ship of the line and two frigates having sailed from Rhode Island, it was supposed, for the Chesapeake.

Once more, on the 31st, the old Charon, during a heavy gale of wind, drove on shore, but by great and prompt exertion was got off. To keep her in countenance, when on the 5th of February I sailed with my prizes under convoy of the Charlestown for New York, on going down the West Branch I also got on shore, but succeeded in quickly getting off again. I had no little trouble in keeping the prizes in order. The Americans left on board one of them persuaded the people to side with them, and they ran her on shore, purposing to give her up to the rebels. I went in chase of her, fired several shots into her, and then, manning one of my boats, boarded her, captured her crew, who had been unable to escape, and got her off, made sail with my recaptured prize, and rejoined the fleet at midnight, when I put the mutineers on board the Charlestown, to be dealt with according to martial law.

On the 11th, at night, finding the “Langolee,” one of my prizes, some distance astern, and suspecting that she was about to give us the slip, I dropped astern, and, taking her in tow, brought her into the middle of the fleet. At midnight, however, a heavy gust of wind compelled me to cut the hawser and clap before it. With the small crew I had I found no little difficulty in handing my sails, which, after some time having done, I struck topgallant yards and masts and lay-to under a close-reefed mainsail. Once having made the ship snug I endeavoured to discover the whereabouts of the rest of the convoy, but not a trace of them could I discover. I hoped, however, with the morning light to make them out. When the cold-grey dawn spread over the ocean and I went aloft not a sail was in sight.

“This is no great misfortune,” said I to Grampus when I came on deck. “The Rattlesnake is a prime sailer, and by taking advantage of the winds we shall reach New York much sooner than if we had been obliged to whip up the convoy. We are a match, too, for any of the smaller rebel vessels we are likely to fall in with, and we must run away from the bigger ones.”

“That may be, sir,” answered the old man, “but d’ye see, sir, I’ve no great opinion of this here craft if it was to come on any long course of bad weather. I’ve a notion she’s an old craft, and I doubt much the soundness of her timbers and planks.”

I was rather inclined to laugh at Nol’s prognostication, and thought no more about his remarks. Before, however, many hours had passed, the gale, which had hitherto been blowing pretty steadily, increased in fury; the sea ran very high, and the spray, as it broke on board, froze hard on deck and sheathed the rigging in ice. When short-handed this is very trying, as double the strength is required to make the running rigging work. Happily we were under snug canvas, for I do not think we could have made or shortened sail. Towards evening Grampus came up to me with a look of concern in his countenance.

“I told you so, sir,” he said, touching his hat. “The old ship has sprung a leak. She has not lost time in letting in the water, for there are four feet already in the hold.”

Immediately on hearing this appalling news I gave orders to man the pumps, but it was at once found, to our further dismay, that they were useless, for they were choked with ice. Since the gale sprang up we had been unable to light a fire. In vain for a long time we tried. Without boiling water or a hot iron it was impossible to clear the pumps. The water was rapidly gaining on us. There seemed every probability of the ship sinking under our feet. Such has been the fate of many poor fellows—to have gone down in a cold, icy sea, hope and help far away. Such was the risk I had often before run, but never before had the expectation of it been brought so prominently before me. Never before had I, it seemed, so much to lose. Never so much to which to look forward with hope. Our efforts to light the fire became more and more frantic. At last I bethought me of applying salt to the ice in the pumps. We fortunately had a good supply of it on board. By forcing the salt down with a long iron the ice was melted, and the pumps at length got to act. Frantically we pumped away with our two pumps. We sounded the well; the water had decreased. This gave us courage to continue our exertions. At length we were able to keep the ship free. Still the gale continued, and I had my apprehensions, from the condition of the ship, that another leak might yet be sprung and all our efforts prove vain. Even a winter gale of wind in those latitudes off the American coast must come to an end, and this, by the morning of the 5th, sufficiently abated to allow me to set the fore and main stay-sails. I then stood towards the land. At noon Rockets came into my cabin, where I had gone to snatch a few minutes’ sleep, and reported a ship and two schooners in sight.

“An enemy, I’ll warrant,” I said to myself testily. “I shall be driven out to sea again, or perhaps, after all, fall into their hands.”

Still I stood towards them, ready to make all sail to escape should my suspicions be realised. I could not make them out. When I got within signalising distance I made the private signal, and great was my satisfaction to find in answer that the ship was the Charlestown, and the schooners two of the convoy.

The next day we made the high land of Neversink, and that evening reached the entrance of New York harbour. It was with the greatest difficulty, however, that we could work our way into it, so full was it of floating ice, through which it was often scarcely possible to steer. The other prizes which had parted company with me in the gale arrived all safe three days afterwards. The accommodations of one of the prizes, the Charity Brig, being much superior to those of the Rattlesnake, I took up my quarters on board her. I invited also some of the more gentlemanly and pleasant of the midshipmen to live on board her also, so that we were able to form an agreeable society among ourselves. At New York there was none in which we could mix with any satisfaction. Whenever I went on shore I did not fail to visit the house of my old Dutch friend, the widow Von Tromp. It was already so crowded with soldier officers that I could not live there altogether, had I been so disposed, but in truth I preferred remaining on board ship with my brother-officers. As I was allowed a guinea a day for my table I was able to live in comparative luxury and comfort.

On the 10th we began to discharge our prizes, which were loaded with tobacco. On clearing the Rattlesnake I had indeed reason to be thankful that I and those who had been with me on board were still in the land of the living. Her entire bottom was completely rotten, and all who saw her were astonished that she had made the passage from Portsmouth to New York. It seemed a miracle that the water had been kept out of her. Her whole bottom had to be replanked before she was again fit to put to sea. This is only one of the numberless escapes from destruction which I have had during my life.

The widow Von Tromp was delighted to see me, and especially interested in all I had to tell her. I was amused with her notions about the war. Her sympathies were evidently with the American party, but at present she assuredly reaped no small profit from the custom which the military brought to her house. She tried sore to reconcile the two opinions—she wished well to the patriots, and yet she was in no hurry to see the war brought to an end. Often since have I seen people on more serious matters halting between two opinions.

“Ah me, Mr Hurry, I wish the war were ended and my dear friends from the south would come back, but den dees nice young officers all go away and I see dem no more! Oh, it is vary sad, vary sad!” she used to exclaim, after descanting on the liberality of her guests. “But den you come back, Mr Hurry; member dat. You always come and see de widow Von Tromp.”

Of course I promised, and intended faithfully to fulfil my promise, little dreaming at that time the course which events would take.

Having discharged faithfully and, as I hoped, to the satisfaction of all concerned, the duty on which I had been sent, I requested the commanding officer of the port that he would enable me and my people to return to the Charon by the first opportunity. Just as I had done so I called on board the Chatham, now commanded by my old friend Captain Hudson, with whom I sailed in the Orpheus. He received me most kindly, and informing me that two of his lieutenants were sick in the hospital, requested that I would perform the duty of first lieutenant on board till I could rejoin my own ship. Anxious as I was, for private reasons, to get to the south, I could not refuse his request. I accordingly at once went on board with my people and commenced the duty of first lieutenant, and pretty hard duty it was; but it is a satisfaction to me to feel that I never refused, during the whole course of my naval career, any duty offered me, however hard or irksome it might have promised to be.

On the 18th of March we sailed from Sandy Hook for the southward, having under our orders the following fleet, viz. Chatham, Roebuck, Raleigh, Bonetta, Savage, Halifax, Vulcan, fire-ship, with a number of transports, which had on board two thousand troops under the command of General Phillips, who had not long before been released by a cartel concluded a few months previously with the enemy. We were going, I found, to the assistance of General Arnold, who was under very serious apprehensions of being overwhelmed by a French fleet with an expedition on board, which it was supposed had sailed from Rhode Island to attack him.

On the 18th we spoke the Pearl and Iris, from which ships we learned that an action had been fought a few days before between the British fleet, under Admiral Arbuthnot, and the French fleet from Rhode Island. Although pretty fairly matched as to numbers the general opinion was that the English ships should have done much more than they did. They drove back the French and prevented them from reaching the Chesapeake before our arrival, but not a Frenchman was sunk or taken, whereas I believe that Admiral Arbuthnot might have followed, cut up, and dispersed the whole French squadron had he possessed the spirit which should animate the bosom of every officer in the service. His only excuse was that some of the ships under his command had suffered in the late hurricane, and that the crews were worn out in their exertions to repair damages and put again to sea. I would gladly see the accounts of such engagements expunged from the annals of English history.

We arrived at Lynhaven Bay in the Chesapeake on the 28th, and found Admiral Arbuthnot’s squadron lying there repairing the damages of the late action. On the next day I rejoined the Charon, having been absent from her nine weeks. I was now in hopes of being able to get on shore to make inquiries for Colonel Carlyon and his daughter, but as I found that we were every moment expecting to sail in search of the French fleet I was compelled to restrain my impatience and to endure as I best could all the anxiety I felt about them.

Chapter Twenty Six.

A cruise.—Leave the Chesapeake.—New York.—Press-gangs at work.—Cruel scenes.—Evil tidings from home.—British take possession of York Town.—Preparations for defence.—A dangerous trip.—More losses—A narrow escape.—Slight hopes of success.

At this period of the American war both parties seemed so equally balanced that it appeared doubtful which after all would come off successful in the contest. The superior discipline of the British, and the experience and talent of their generals, had frequently obtained for them the victory in the expeditions which had of late been undertaken. General Arnold’s plans had hitherto never failed in Virginia. Lord Rawdon had obtained a considerable advantage over General Greene in South Carolina, while it was hoped, from the bravery and talent of Lord Cornwallis, that he would carry everything before him in North Carolina. He had been posted at Wilmington in the southern part of that province. His supplies however failing, he took the bold resolution of marching through North Carolina to join Generals Phillips and Arnold at Portsmouth. Sir James Wright held the town of Savannah in Georgia, and Colonel Cruger the important post of Ninety-six in South Carolina. New York and the country in the immediate neighbourhood was in possession of the British, and at that city Sir Henry Clinton, as Commander-in-chief of the British Army in North America, held his head-quarters.

The British forces however, it will thus be seen, were broken into small divisions and stationed at posts so much apart as to be of little mutual assistance. The war thus raged pretty equally in South Carolina, North Carolina, and Virginia, and while the force seemed everywhere sufficient for destroying considerable tracts of country, and accumulating a great deal of spoil, it was wholly inadequate to the main purpose of bringing matters to a conclusion. Thus numbers of brave men lost their lives without any equivalent result, and veteran battalions were worn down by fruitless exertions of valour, and by a series of most brilliant successes which produced no permanent result. On the other hand, although the French had landed a small army under the Marquis de la Fayette, the American forces were mostly ill-disciplined and disorganised, and although it cannot be said that they were favourable to the English, they were discontented with the treatment they were receiving from their own government, many of them being ill-paid, ill-clothed, and often but scantily fed. The unsuccessful attempt of the French fleet to enter the Chesapeake was also a great damper to the patriot cause.

At this time the American forces were separated into as many divisions as the English. General Greene commanded in the Carolinas, the Marquis de la Fayette was in Virginia, and watched the banks of the James River, to prevent the further advance of the British in that direction, while General Washington himself remained with another army in the north, his head-quarters being Newport in Rhode Island. Soon after this General Phillips died, and General Arnold, greatly to the disgust of our officers, who did not at all like serving under him, would have had the command, had not Lord Cornwallis arrived with his army from the south at Portsmouth.

Such was the state of affairs on shore. At sea the British arms were in most instances victorious. While the Marquis de la Fayette was hovering about General Arnold in the hopes of cutting him off by land, the French expedition to the Chesapeake, concerted at Rhode Island by Monsieur de Ternay and the Count Rochambeau was, as I have described, defeated by the fleet of Admiral Arbuthnot. The British also were collecting a large fleet to be ready to encounter one which was expected on the coast of America from the West Indies under the Count de Grasse.

The war was no longer confined to one between England and her revolted colonies, but we had now the French, Spaniards, and Dutch to contend with on various parts of the American coasts, and mighty fleets were collecting to contest with us as of yore the sovereignty of the seas. I, for one, looked forward with the greatest satisfaction to an engagement with either the Spaniards or the French, the hereditary enemies of England. I regretted at the same time that the Americans had adopted the dangerous expedient of calling in their assistance. If they were to be free, I felt that it would be better for them to achieve their independence by themselves, instead of trusting to those who were too likely to play them some treacherous trick in the end. I felt, however, that our own Government was more likely to come to terms considering the immense pressure brought against the country if the Americans would be but moderate in their demands.

On the 2nd of April we sailed from the Chesapeake with the whole of the squadron, consisting of seven line-of-battle ships, two fifty-gun ships, five frigates, and two sloops, and stood to the southward in search of the French fleet. On the 5th the fleet tacked and stood to the north-east.

There is something very exciting and interesting in forming one of a large fleet of men-of-war. I had sailed often, and more than enough with fleets of merchantmen and transports, but then I had generally to act the part of a whipper-in to a pack of lazy or worn-out hounds, and had to run in and out among them, hailing one, signalising a second, and firing a shot at another to keep them all in order, caring very little how my own ship looked, provided I could accomplish my object. Now, on the contrary, each ship sailed in proper order, and one vied with the other in the neatness of their appearance, and the rapidity with which various evolutions could be performed.

On the 6th the Charon was detached ahead of the squadron to look into the Delaware to ascertain if the French fleet was still there. We obeyed the order with alacrity, though we expected that if they were there we should be very quickly chased out again. We had great hopes that this would be done, as we might thus lead them down upon our own squadron which was well prepared to receive them. O’Driscoll rubbed his hands as we sailed up that magnificent estuary, keeping a bright look-out on every side for the mast-heads of the enemy’s fleet.

“Arrah, now, won’t it be fun to see them all come bounding out like bulldogs when by chance a stranger comes suddenly into the courtyard where they are chained up, all barking, and leaping, and pulling with the amiable wish of tearing him to pieces!” he exclaimed, as I was expressing a hope that they might still be found there.

On we sailed, till at last we felt convinced that the Frenchmen had already put to sea. Once more therefore we stood out again in search of the Admiral. On the 11th we spoke the Chatham, which ship had also been sent to look-out for the enemy. She had taken a prize, and from her had gained the information that a large fleet of merchantmen was in the neighbourhood, bound from Saint Domingo to Philadelphia under the convoy of the Dean and Confederacy State frigates.

I ought to have said that we had hove-to, and that Captain Ord of the Chatham had come on board us, Captain Symonds being the senior officer. Captain Ord now proposed that we should in company cruise off the heads of the Delaware in the hopes of intercepting this valuable convoy. Once more there appeared a certain prospect of my picking up an ample supply of prize-money, but greatly to our disappointment; Captain Symonds declined to accede to the proposal, though he allowed Captain Ord to remain if he thought fit. This Captain Ord said he should do, and returned on board the Chatham, while we made sail to the northward. That evening I heard Nol Grampus holding forth on the subject.

“I knew it would be so,” he exclaimed, clapping his right hand down on his hat, which he held in his left; “our ship’s got ill-lack in her sails, depend on that. I don’t say nothing against our skipper; what he does is all right and above board, and a better man nor officer never stepped a deck, but, mark my words, that ’ere ‘Chatham’s’ people now will be filling their pockets with gold dollars, while we shan’t have a penny piece to chink in ours; as for our ship, I knows what I knows, and I thinks what I thinks.”

The effect of old Nol’s remarks were, however, counteracted before long, for on the 13th we sighted a large brig, which immediately stood away from us. We, therefore, made sail in chase. She sailed so fast we had to do our best to come up with her. It seemed, however, doubtful whether we should do so. Nol shook his head, and remarked that night would come down, and that she would slip away before we could overhaul her. Hour after hour passed. It was evident that we were gaining on her, and at length, at the end of a chase of seven hours we came up with the stranger, when she struck her flag and proved to be the Peggy, rebel privateer, of fourteen guns and seventy men, loaded with rum and indigo, from Carolina to Philadelphia.

On our arrival at New York with our prize, we had the mortification to find that the admiral approved of Captain Ord’s proposition, and still greater was our annoyance to hear a few days afterwards that he, with the Roebuck and Orpheus, had taken the Confederacy and several of her convoy.

And now I was engaged in a scene, to do proper justice to which completely baffles all my powers of description. The fleet were sadly in want of men. By some means or other they must be procured. New York was, we heard, full of seafaring men, boatmen and others, accustomed to the water, whom the war had driven from their usual vocations, and who were now living on shore. To get hold of these was our object. It would not do to attempt to capture them by driblets, for if a few were pressed, the rest would take alarm and hide away where we were not likely to find them. The admiral’s plans were quickly and secretly formed. All the boats of the fleet were ordered to assemble, with the crews well armed, by break of day, on board the Rainbow. Silently we pulled in for the city much in the same way that we should have attempted to surprise a place held by an enemy. Having completely surrounded all the lower parts of the town inhabited by the class of men we wanted, we commenced our press. While one portion of our force were told off to keep guard, the others broke into every house without ceremony, where there was a probability of finding men. Very seldom we stopped to knock for admission. Generally the door was forced open, and in we rushed, seizing the husband from the arms of his wife, and very often allowing him scarcely time to put on his clothes, while we were compelled to endure the bitter invectives, the tears, the screams, and abuse of his wife, whom we were thus cruelly robbing. Sometimes the men, aided by their better halves, made an attempt at resistance, but were speedily overpowered, bound hand and foot, and carried off. Often, too, we fell in with young men of a better class, mates of merchantmen and others lately married; and truly pitiable was it to witness the grief and agony of the poor young wives as they saw their husbands in the power of our rough-looking and seemingly heartless press-gangs. They did not scream; they did not abuse us; but often on their knees, with tears and sighs, they implored us to release those who had become dearer to them than life itself. These appeals I found harder to withstand than anything else, and had to steel my heart and to assume a roughness which I did not feel, to resist giving way to their entreaties. I did, as it was, all I could to assure them that their husbands would soon again be at liberty; though I might have remembered, had I thought more about it, how bitterly they would be disappointed. In too many instances, husbands and wives then parted, never met again. Fathers, also, were torn from their children, leaving them desolate indeed; young sons were carried off from their parents. We had not time to stop to listen to any remonstrances. Men must be had at every cost. The only question asked was, “Have you a protection?” If not, seamen, and often landsmen, if they were stout fellows, were bound hand and foot and carried off to the boats. I would have given much to have allowed one young man, especially, to escape. He had been aroused by the noise in the street, and was sitting up dressed when we entered his house, holding his wife in his arms. She was a fragile, delicate-looking girl, soon about to become a mother. I felt almost sure when I saw the couple that the shock would kill her.

“You will not take him, sir?” she said, calmly appealing to me as I entered the room in which my men had just seized him, though even they were inclined to treat him with some delicacy. “He has been an officer, sir. You will not carry him off and make a common seaman of him? Oh, sir, he is my husband, he does not wish to leave me. Let him, let him remain!”

This simple and artless appeal affected me much.

“He surely has some protection,” said I. “Pray, let me see it.”

“Oh, you relent, you relent!” she shrieked out joyfully.

“I have no protection that I am aware of, except the right of being free,” answered the young man mournfully.

If I let this poor fellow off, so I must many others, and, besides, my duty is to take him; orders must be obeyed, I reflected.

“It cannot be helped,” said I gruffly. “You must come along with us. The captain may let you off when he hears your story.”

“I’ll go quietly, but do not bind me, for mercy’s sake,” he answered calmly.

I walked out of the room. There was the sound of something falling on the floor. The poor young wife had fainted. Thus the husband had to leave her, unconscious of her bereavement, he was conveyed on board the Charon. Before we left the port, a letter was brought him from the shore. He was a widower. While he remained in the ship he was to all appearance a steady, obedient man, but I suspect that he wreaked a bitter vengeance ere long for the cruel wrong he felt that he had suffered.

The result of this hot-press was four hundred men, captured that forenoon. A fleet of transports now received on board another division of two thousand troops, to be conveyed to the assistance of Lord Cornwallis, at Portsmouth.

On the 12th of May, having fallen down to the Hook, we sailed with the whole fleet for the southward. Nothing occurred on the passage except the capture of an unfortunate brig, which found herself near us in a calm, and upon which nearly all the boats of the squadron set at once. It made me think of a number of birds of prey pouncing down on some poor beast of burden which has dropped through fatigue on the road. The commander-in-chief having given up the command of the convoy to Captain Symonds, leaving also the Roebuck and Assurance, he parted company, while we continued our course for our destination.

We anchored with the convoy off Sewel’s Point on the 20th, and Captain Symonds remained in command till the 30th, when the Richmond coming in, he was relieved of that duty by Captain Hudson. Twice during that time I was sent on shore with flags of truce to Hampton, where I was, as before, most hospitably received by my friends the Langtons. My first inquiries on returning to the coast of Virginia had been for Colonel Carlyon. He was still a prisoner at Portsmouth; but, from what I could learn, I had hopes that he would soon be exchanged. I was unable to see him before I was sent off to Hampton. On reaching the house of my friends, I eagerly asked after Madeline. I felt that it was unnecessary with them to disguise my feelings, and that it would please them better if I spoke openly to them on the subject.

“Where is she? Is she safe? Is she well?” I exclaimed, almost before the first greetings were over.

To all my questions they gave me satisfactory answers, and I went back much lighter of heart than I had been for a long time. They also loaded me with all the luxuries and delicacies which their most fertile province can produce, and welcomed indeed they were by my messmates, who had been for some time living chiefly on salt pork, beef, and peas-pudding—not pleasant food during a warm spring in that southern clime. On my second visit I had the satisfaction of negotiating the exchange of Colonel Carlyon and some other Americans with several of our own officers, who had been captured in the numerous engagements our forces had lately had in the Carolinas, as well as in some of what I may, with justice, call our marauding expeditions in Virginia. I had an opportunity of seeing Colonel Carlyon but for a moment, when he again expressed his gratitude for what he was pleased to call the very great services I had done him. Curious it may seem, but I had rather he had said less on the subject, and taken it for granted that nothing could give me greater satisfaction than assisting the father of one to whom I was so deeply attached. There was, I thought, too much stiffness and formality in his mode of expressing himself. I, of course, speak of what my feelings were at the time, and after I had left him my spirits once more sank to their former level. Those were busy times, and I had not much opportunity of being troubled with my own thoughts.

Once more, on the 4th of June, we put to sea, to convoy thirty sail of transports back to New York; chased a rebel privateer on our way, but she escaped us. When there, we refitted the ship, and sailed again for Virginia on the 24th of June. On the 26th spoke the Solebay and Warwick, with a convoy from Europe, and after parting from them on the same day, sighted another sail, which did her utmost to escape from us. We accordingly made sail after her, and at the end of four hours, on coming up and signalising her, she proved to be no other than the Cartwright packet from Falmouth to New York. The moment I discovered this my heart began to beat with anxiety to hear from those I loved so well. It was long since I had had any news from home. Letters might, I knew, have been written, but being so constantly on the move as I had been, there were great probabilities of their having missed me. The packet hove-to. She had letters on board for the Charon. The bag was delivered. I had one. There was a black seal to it. The handwriting was that of my sister.

There was bad news, I knew. For some moments I dared not open it. One of our family circle was gone. When I returned his or her place would be empty. I tore open the letter. One we could all of us least spare, one we had every reason to love and revere, was taken from us. My father was no more. A choking sensation filled my throat—tears, long strangers, then started to my eyes. Often had I pictured to myself the delight I should feel, should I carry home Madeline as my bride, in presenting her to him. I knew how he would admire her, how proud he would be of her, how he would have delighted to call her his little rebel American daughter-in-law. All that was ended. I should never again see the kind, good old man. I dashed the tears from my eyes, and in a hoarse voice gave the order to trim sails as we once more shaped a course to the southward.

We arrived off the Heads of Virginia on the 9th of July, and found there the Richmond, Guadaloupe, Fowey, and Vulcan fire-ship. It had been for some time seen that the town of Portsmouth was not a tenable post. The neighbourhood, especially in the summer season, was unhealthy, and ships of any size could not get up sufficiently near it to assist in its defence. The commanders-in-chief had accordingly resolved to evacuate it, and to occupy York Town, on the James River, instead. The latter place was supposed to possess many advantages over the former, while the river was navigable for ships of far larger burden than those which could approach Portsmouth.

The first division of the army having embarked on board the transports by the 30th of July we sailed with them, Lord Cornwallis himself, who took the command, being on board the Richmond. We landed the troops on the 2nd, and took possession of York Town and Gloucester without any opposition. It was not, however, till the 19th that the second division of the army arrived, Portsmouth being entirely evacuated. There was a general feeling that events of considerable importance were about to occur. While we were eagerly looking for a reinforcement of troops and the arrival of a fleet capable of competing with the French, the enemy were assembling their forces in the neighbourhood, and it was very evident would bring the whole of their strength to bear upon York Town, and to endeavour to crush our army there before the arrival of the aid we so much required. I resolved at all events to note down from day to day with even greater care than heretofore the occurrences which might take place in the stout brown journal which had already been so long my companion, and which I had preserved through so many chances of destruction both by fire and water—from thieves and the carelessness of servants and others to whom I had from time to time been compelled to entrust it. Yet here it still is, battered on the outside, like its owner; but, though its leaves are somewhat yellow and stained, as sound as ever in the main, and with the ink as black as the day it was written. Brief but, believe me, perfectly accurate, according to my means of information and my own observation, are the descriptions I am about to offer of those events. Before, however, I go on with my journal I will give a short account of the position now taken up by the British army.

The peninsula which is formed by the rivers James and York is one of the richest and most beautiful parts of Virginia. York Town is situated on the south bank of the latter-named stream and on the narrowest part of the peninsula, which is there but five miles across. Gloucester Point is on the north, and therefore the opposite side of the river, into which it extends so far that it reaches within almost a mile of York Town. The two posts thus completely command the navigation of the river, which is here of sufficient depth to allow ships of considerable size to ascend it. The force with which we now occupied these two important positions amounted to about 7000 men, and it was the intention of Lord Cornwallis so completely to fortify them both on the sea and land sides, that they might resist any attack likely to be made against them either by the French fleet or the combined American and French armies till we could be relieved by Sir Henry Clinton or by a fresh army and fleet from England. It was too well known from the first that the army was but ill-supplied with guns, and indeed with all the munitions of war requisite for carrying on offensive, or even defensive, operations against the enemy. This became still more evident when the guns and ammunition were landed from the ships-of-war, and the crews were summoned on shore to work them. Every effort was made to put our positions in an efficient state of defence, for our hopes of being relieved from New York were very slight, it being understood that General Washington was preparing for an attack on that city with all the forces he could muster in the north, at the same time that a sufficient number of troops were left in the south to give us a good deal of trouble, and to cause much anxiety to our commanders-in-chief. By my daily journal I find that on the 20th of August the Charon’s lower deck guns were landed for the defences on shore, while she with the Richmond was moored so as to flank the enemy should they make an attack on Gloucester.

21st.—The troops were engaged in throwing up works, while the seamen of the squadron were employed in landing the guns and ammunition, the transports, meantime, being secured under the town of York.

22nd.—The seamen were employed in the boats, landing at every available spot on the river, and foraging. On the following day detachments of men were landed to assist the troops in throwing up works.

24th.—Foraging parties from the army and navy procuring fresh provisions often having to take them by force, while the remainder were employed on the works. It was an ominous circumstance that at no time did the inhabitants offer a cordial welcome to any of our troops, although to individuals they were often inclined to show courtesy and kindness.

25th.—The Richmond sailed for New York, leaving the command of the squadron to Captain Symonds.

26th.—I was sent to get off a schooner belonging to the enemy which had been run on shore in a small creek. I accomplished my mission, and, she being found a serviceable little craft, the commodore kept her as a tender, and appointed me to the command of her.

27th.—The Bonetta was sent to anchor on the Shoe as advanced ship to give notice of the approach of an enemy. I was employed with thirty seamen in fitting out the tender.

28th.—While the army was employed as before on the works, they were engaged in pulling down the houses in front of York Town, greatly to their amusement, it seemed. Tackles were hooked on to the top of the walls, and thundering down they came almost on the heads of the men. The wonder was that numbers were not crushed beneath the ruins as off they ran, laughing and shouting with glee at the havoc they had committed.

29th.—The Guadaloupe and Express despatched to Charleston, and the Loyalist sent to the Shoe to relieve the Bonetta.

30th.—A day of much excitement and no little anxiety. About noon the Guadaloupe and Bonetta were seen standing up the harbour under all sail, and soon it became known that they had been chased by a fleet of French ships, consisting of twenty-six sail of the line, besides frigates, fire-ships, bombs, and transports, who followed them to the mouth of the harbour and captured the Loyalist within three miles of the town after a most gallant resistance, her masts having gone by the board before she struck her colours to the enemy. This fleet is commanded by the Count de Grasse, and has come direct from the West Indies. Three of their ships brought up at the mouth of the harbour, but the main body anchored at Lynhaven Bay.

31st.—The enemy’s forces have assembled at Williamsburg, about twelve miles from York, under the command of the Marquis de la Fayette, and the French fleet advanced to the Shoe. Thus is York Town shut in both by sea and land, and it becomes evident that they intend more and more closely to press us in till they completely invest our positions. The troops and seamen engaged hard at the works. The shipping removing further up the harbour.

September 1st.—The French landed 6000 troops up the James river, which joined the Marquis de la Fayette at Williamsburg. The enemy now far outnumber us. I was sent for by the commodore that night, and directed to guard, till she had safely passed the French advanced ships, an express boat which was sent off to convey important despatches to New York, describing the dangerous position in which we were placed. The risk of being captured was very great. My greatest safeguard was in the very boldness of the undertaking. The night was dark, and as the roads where they were anchored were very wide, I might hope to slip by without being observed. As soon as night fell we sailed. The wind was fair, and we stood boldly on, looking out for the dark forms of the enemy’s ships. One after the other were passed, till at midnight we were clear of the enemy, as we believed, and the despatch-boat stood on her course for the northward, while I made the best of my way back to port. Here I arrived by daylight, and my report seemed to give great satisfaction to the commodore.

2nd.—The seamen of the fleet were removed on shore, and took up their quarters in tents. Engaged night and day in throwing up works towards the sea, from which quarter an attack may be expected.

3rd.—Nine of the French ships advanced to Tous Marsh, and the rest employed in landing the artillery and stores up James river.

4th.—Mounted all the Charon’s eighteen-pounders on the new sea works. The seamen engaged in pulling down the front of the town, and in cutting trees for stockades.

5th.—The enemy preparing to commence the attack.

6th and 7th.—The seamen unrigging the ships and hauling some transports on shore for the defence of the place. The army, as before, employed without intermission on the works, day and night.

8th.—The enemy’s advanced ships quitted the river and joined the main body at Lynhaven Bay in consequence of Admiral Graves having appeared off the Capes with twenty sail of the line. After some slight skirmishing with the French, the British admiral was compelled from their great superiority in strength to retreat. The French also on their return to Lynhaven Bay unfortunately fell in with the Richmond and Iris frigates, both of which were captured.

9th.—My duties are very arduous, but honourable, and show the confidence reposed in me by my superior officer. I went down the river in the tender to reconnoitre the enemy’s fleet, with orders to come occasionally up in sight of York to signal what was going on among them. The French fleet from Rhode Island under Monsieur de Barras had now joined them, making their force consist of thirty-six sail of the line besides frigates, fire-ships, bombs and transports. During the night I signalled to York Town that the enemy were at anchor in Lynhaven Bay, and then I stood off and on in sight of them, watching for any movement till daylight.

10th.—Observed the enemy getting under weigh from Lynhaven Bay. Watched them till they stood towards the Shoe. Ran up and signalled accordingly. Soon after they anchored at that place.

11th.—Calm, moderate weather. At four AM the enemy began to advance from the Shoe, at which time I lay becalmed about three miles from them, and as they brought the sea breeze with them while I was without power of moving, I felt that my time was come, and that I should once more fall into their hands as a prisoner. Ou Trou and all its horrors rose up before me. Old Nol looked very grave.

“It’s hard times we shall have of it, Mr Hurry, if the breeze don’t be smart about coming, sir,” he remarked, shaking his head. “I’d sooner by half have a chance of fighting, sir, than running for our liberty.”

“We have no choice left us, I fear, Grampus,” said I. “However, we’ll do our best, and not give in as long as the little barkie can swim.”

“That’s it, sir, that’s the thing. The people will stick by you and go down in the craft if you wishes it,” was his answer.

This being the spirit of my men, my hopes revived. The enemy came on slowly, but still they were nearing me. With hearty good-will every one on board kept whistling for a wind, but for all that the breeze did not come. At six o’clock one of the headmost ships tried the range of her guns by firing a shot at me. It came pretty near, but a miss is as good as a mile. There was, however, no time to be lost. Another and another shot came whistling after me. I cut away my boat, the breeze was rippling the water astern. I trimmed sails, the wind filled them. Once more the craft began to move. She slipped faster and faster through the water, and away she went before the wind with everything we could clap on her like a scalded cock, as O’Driscoll remarked afterwards, and for this time happily escaped the durance vile I had been anticipating. At noon I made the signal that the enemy were still approaching, and at four o’clock, they having anchored at the mouth of the harbour, I ran up to the town with the conviction that Othello’s occupation had gone. In the evening I accordingly received orders to haul her on shore and to join the Charon’s at the battery in which they were posted. I do not mean to say that we did not hope by some means or other to succeed, but even the most sanguine could not help acknowledging just then that things looked black and threatening in the extreme.

Chapter Twenty Seven.

Defence of York Town.—Sent with fire-ships against French fleet.—Failure.—In command of battery.—Fierce engagements.—Colonel Carlyon a prisoner and wounded.—The Charon blows up.—Desperate condition of the town.—Death of my old follower.—Attempt to evacuate town frustrated by a gale.—I am badly wounded.—Army of Lord Cornwallis capitulates.—War at an end.—Prisoners kindly treated by Americans and French.—Madeline becomes my nurse.—News from England.—Sir Hurricane Tempest has left me his heir.—I marry the little rebel.—Finis.

I could not help feeling, in common with many other thoughtful officers, that we were on the eve of great events. Each day, each hour confirmed this opinion, and now we were startled if not confounded by the undoubted information that General Washington had arrived with a considerable body of troops from the north. He arrived on the 24th in the Chesapeake, with, it was said, six thousand French and continental troops, whom we had the mortification to see a frigate and a body of transports go down to bring up, we no longer having the power to molest them. Thus still further was the dark thunder-cloud augmented, about, we believed, to break over our heads. Day and night, however, we continued working at the batteries, and levelling houses, and clearing all the ground round the lines of everything which might afford the enemy shelter in their expected attack.

September 15th, 1781.—Two ships of the line and a frigate came up a mile nearer the forts, and under cover of their guns foraging parties went on shore, whom we were thus prevented from attacking.

16th.—Never did men work harder than we had been doing to strengthen a position to enable us to hold out till the arrival of a fleet superior to the French; and from news received our hopes again arose that it might yet arrive before we were driven to extremities. Many persons have been blaming Sir Henry Clinton for allowing General Washington to pass by him, but the truth is, he did not expect that this would have been done, but fully believed that he purposed rather to besiege New York itself.

17th.—A ship of the line advanced from the shore and joined those off Tous Marsh. Signals being made all day long between the French Commodore and the Compte de Grasse. French frigates passing and re-passing between their squadrons. Something evidently in the wind.

18th.—Our forces employed as usual in pulling down houses and throwing up works.

19th.—All the women and children, the negroes and other non-combatants, were sent out of the town to enable us to eke out our not-over-abundant supply of provisions.

20th.—The soldiers engaged in throwing up works, the seamen in cutting down trees and in forming stockades.

21st.—Heavy rain fell, greatly retarding the progress of the works. I was not a little pleased to hear that an attempt was to be made to destroy the French squadron at the mouth of the harbour, and that four fire-ships were to be employed on that service. I immediately offered to command one of them—an offer which was at once accepted. Lieutenants Conway and Symonds were appointed to command two others, and Mr Camel, a lieutenant of a privateer, had charge of the fourth. Our wish was to be under the orders of Captain Palmer of the Vulcan, whose experience and judgment we felt would insure success, but the commodore decided on allowing each of us to trust to our own abilities and to act according to circumstances. The vessels were patched-up schooners and sloops, and fitted in so hurried a way that they were scarcely manageable. The experiment was to have been made that night, but the wind and weather proving unfavourable, Captain Palmer, with whom we consulted, advised us to defer it till the following—

22nd.—The wind being about north-west, it was this evening considered practicable to attack the advanced ships of the enemy, and we accordingly made preparations for our hazardous expedition. The Vulcan and four other vessels were to be employed in the service. I was of course well acquainted with all the risks to be encountered. I knew that I might either be blown up, or, if overtaken by the enemy, cut to pieces without remorse, no quarter being given to people engaged in that sort of work. During the first day after volunteering I had not time to think much about the matter, but four-and-twenty hours spent in comparative inaction enabled me to contemplate the consequences in their true light, and though I felt as resolved and determined as ever, I knew well that this might be the last day of my existence. I did not so much dread the future, I own, as regret all I was leaving behind. I thought over and over again of Madeline—of the happiness I had hoped to enjoy with her—of the grief should I fall, my death would cause her. I thought of my family and of the dear ones still surviving at home who hoped to welcome me when war was over, but would hope in vain. I felt very grave and sad, but not the less resolved or undaunted I may say, and determined to do my duty. The time was approaching for our start. I walked aft and stood looking over the taffrail away from the crew, and there I offered up a deep, earnest prayer for protection for myself and also for my people in the expedition in which we were engaged. Yes, I prayed, and sincerely too, believing that I was praying aright as I stood over all those terrific combustibles which were to bring havoc and destruction among hundreds of our fellow-creatures not more guilty, not more worthy of death than were I and my fellows. I will not stop to moralise on that subject, yet I have often since thought that it is one worthy of deep consideration. Of one thing only I was certain that, as an officer in the Navy, I was doing my duty to my king and country in endeavouring to destroy their enemies, and all the rest I left to the guidance of Him who rules all things for the best. I now feel that there is a purer law, a stricter rule which should prevail instead of those which most men follow, but it would be out of place here to discuss the subject.

The ships in the harbour gave out the hour of midnight. It was the signal agreed on for starting. We made sail, cut our cables, and ran down the river. The wind held fair, the night was dark, and there appeared every probability that our undertaking would succeed. Nol Grampus, Rockets, and four other men were with me to man the boat in which we were to make our escape. Not a word was spoken. Every arrangement had before been made. Having placed our vessels in a position from which they could not fail to drift down on the enemy, we were to set fire to them, and then, jumping into our boats, pull away for our lives. There was not much fear of pursuit if the vessels hit their marks, as we knew that the boats of the squadron would be engaged in endeavouring to clear their ships of the burning craft. If, however, through a change of wind, or any other circumstance, they should drift clear of the ships, it was probable that the boats might come in chase of us to take vengeance on our heads for the injury we had attempted to inflict on them.

There lay the French squadron before us, no one on board dreaming of the havoc and destruction about to be wrought among them. It was just two o’clock in the morning. Our little flotilla of evil was slowly approaching. Evidently no sufficient watch was kept ahead of the French ships. Our success appeared certain. Suddenly a bright light burst forth, revealing our vessels clearly to the enemy, and shedding a lurid glare over their ships which lay sleeping on the calm water ahead. What had happened? There, blazing away on the right of our line, was the fire-ship commanded by Mr Camel, the lieutenant of the privateer. The proceeding was as unaccountable as strange, and I at once suspected that he had thus acted to betray us. I never have had cause to place much confidence in privateer officers, though undoubtedly many brave men are to be found among them. The instant the flames blazed up, the roll of drums was heard on board the French ships beating to quarters. Then a brisk fire from thirty to forty guns was opened on us, and the shot came rattling thickly about our heads. The light had revealed to the Frenchmen our fire-vessels, and they could not tell how many more might be in the rear, so they hurriedly cut their cables, and, in the greatest confusion, endeavoured to make sail to get out of our way. Mr Conway next set fire to his vessel, Symonds following his example, and both taking to their boats. I had still hopes of effecting my purpose, so I stood on. I had not gone far before Grampus exclaimed from forward—

“There, sir; there are the French launches; they are after us!”

Such was the case.

“Haul up the boat, my lads!” I exclaimed. “Jump into her!”

As the men slipped over the side I set fire to the train, and, before I had time to jump into the boat, the vessel was in a blaze from stem to stern. The Vulcan was the last vessel fired. She was, at the time, within her own length of a French twenty-four. What had become of her gallant commander and crew I could not discover. The French launches were after me. My people pulled away with all their might. It was, indeed, a matter of life and death. The other boats were ahead, and I hoped safe. Several bullets came whizzing past us. As I looked astern, my satisfaction was great to see our fire-ships still blazing away, and the Frenchmen drifting, as it appeared, towards the shore. As it afterwards appeared, two of them did drive on shore, and I believe that, had our ships had their guns on board, we might by prompt action have run down and destroyed them before reinforcements could have come to their aid. Happily for me the French launches were recalled to go to the assistance of their ships, and, finding myself no longer pursued, I lay on my oars to try and discover what had become of Captain Palmer. To my great satisfaction, he soon made his appearance, having, at first, wisely pulled across the stream, where he had not been observed. All the boats assembling together, we returned considerably crestfallen and dispirited to our tents. Whether it was treachery, cowardice, or want of consideration induced the privateer’s man to set fire to his vessel I cannot say, but owing to him alone was the failure of our expedition to be attributed.

23rd.—The French this morning got off their ships, and removed to a more respectable distance from the garrison. Guard-boats were sent down the river, and continued rowing all night. This duty pressed very severely on the seamen of the fleet. The enemy began their march from Williamsburg, and on this day attacked and drove in our pickets.

24th.—The seamen were directed to man the guns in the front, and they were then to-day reviewed by Lord Cornwallis.

25th.—To-day the seamen were again inspected by Lord Cornwallis, and went through the exercise of the great guns before him, when his lordship expressed himself highly pleased with our conduct. At this time, the first lieutenant of the Charon commanded a battery in the centre of the lines of one twenty-four, two eighteens, and two twelves; I had charge of a battery with three eighteenss and four sixes, in front of the 17th Regiment to the right; Lieutenant Symonds, one of three nines to the left of mine; Lieutenant Conway, of two nines, to the right of all; Mr Conway, of two twelves, as flanking guns; the master of the Fowey, of two nines, in front of the 43rd Regiment; while all the batteries to the left were manned by seamen from the transports, under the command of the agent. All the sea batteries were commanded by Mr Robb, master of the Charon. Thus it will be seen that the Navy took a very active part in the defence of the place.

26th.—The seamen’s tents were to-day moved in front of the quarters of the army, close to our batteries. This was done, as we were in momentary expectation of being attacked by the enemy.

27th.—Our pickets were driven in, and the enemy advanced in order of battle. The troops marched out to meet them, Lord Cornwallis being resolved to give them battle; but they retired as we advanced, evidently at that time not wishing to bring on the final struggle. Our army, therefore, returned within the lines.

28th.—At noon the enemy appeared in front of our works, in force about 26,000. They extended the whole distance from the right to the left of our lines, and a very formidable force they appeared. It was evident that they wished, by their show of numbers, to strike terror into the hearts of our men. They were mistaken, however, if such was their object, for nothing could persuade our fellows that any one of themselves was not equal to twenty Continentals or Frenchmen. It is very well for the men to despise an enemy, and to feel sure that they can thrash him; but officers, on the contrary, cannot have too much respect for him, nor do too much to insure victory, or take too many precautions to guard against surprise. A body of the enemy advancing to reconnoitre in a ravine in front of my battery, I opened fire on them till they rapidly dispersed.

29th.—Lord Cornwallis, having in vain, with his small army of 5000 men, offered the enemy battle, and finding them intent on waiting their own time to attack him on the left flank, moved this night with all the army inside the works. He did not doubt but that, by acting on the defensive, we should be able to hold out till the arrival of the long and earnestly-expected fleet and army to relieve us. It is no disparagement to the bravery of our little army to say that that succour was most earnestly prayed for. A body of French horse and foot attacked the German Legion, who had to retreat under the cover of a battery to the left. I had again to open fire with my 18-pounders on a body of the enemy who appeared in front of the works, but took to flight as the shot went rattling in among them.

30th.—The enemy broke ground, and began to throw up redoubts, moving on at the same time in three columns towards our centre. They quickly took possession of two of our redoubts, which we had evacuated on withdrawing into the town. At eleven o’clock they attacked the right and left of the town with the intention evidently of storming the flanking redoubts. A smart action ensued. Our men behaved magnificently, so did the enemy; but after severe fighting for two hours they were repulsed, and while our batteries played on them they were driven back in great confusion into the woods behind the town.

1st October.—The Hessian Legion with other light troops made a sortie, and while skirmishing in front of the town captured several of the enemy. The Hessians returned into the town close to my battery. I observed that they were carrying among them a person on a litter. At first I thought that it was one of their own wounded people, but as they came nearer his uniform showed me that he was an American officer. A strong impulse induced me to hurry down to meet him, and I knew at all events that very likely the Hessians would not understand him, and I was anxious to render him assistance—a mark of my interest in the Americans which I felt glad my duty would allow me to bestow. I started when I got up to the litter, for though his features were convulsed with pain, I recognised Colonel Carlyon. He had been shot through both his legs. He knew me when I spoke to him. I explained who he was as well as I could to one of the Hessian officers whom I knew, and entreated that he might be carefully looked after. Just then O’Driscoll, who had come on shore from the ship, arrived to pay me a visit, and volunteered to accompany Colonel Carlyon to some house where he might be comfortably lodged, and to get a surgeon to attend to his wounds. I explained to the colonel what I had done. He pressed my hand warmly as if he understood me, for he was in too much pain to speak, and I hurried back to my battery.

The enemy were now night and day engaged in throwing up works, while our batteries kept up a continual cannonade on the people labouring in them, which impeded their operations somewhat. Notwithstanding this, from the immense number of men employed, the works were raised with astonishing rapidity. At night a negro was caught deserting to the enemy with a note in his possession from one of the merchants in the town describing the distressed state of the garrison. I have not spoken much of our distress, but it was very great. Our supply of food was daily becoming more scanty and bad, and it could scarcely be concealed that even our ammunition was failing us. The treacherous merchant was at once taken in custody, to be tried for his crime.

2nd October.—A constant and heavy cannonade kept up all day on the enemy’s working parties. They nearly completed their first parallel. Our men occupied in throwing up works.

3rd.—Much as yesterday. The enemy bringing up their artillery.

4th.—A flag came in from the enemy; the cause I know not. Perhaps to offer terms. We kept up as hot a fire as our want of ammunition would allow. Each day I sent to inquire after Colonel Carlyon, but could not leave my battery.

5th.—The French displayed five stand of colours on their works, while the Americans displayed their new States’ flag of the Stars and Stripes; we eagerly looking for that relief which would enable us to sally out from behind our works, beside which we stood fretting angrily, and drive them away into the recesses of their woods and marshes.

6th and 7th.—The enemy mounting their heavy artillery on their first parallel and supplying their batteries with ammunition. The garrison throwing up traverses to defend the works.

8th.—The enemy attacked our pickets on the left at midnight, and drove them inside the lines. Some time after this a body of them came to the barricade and persuaded the officers that they were deserters. The officers of the 43rd regiment, in a most unwary manner having got on the works to show them the way in, were treacherously shot at and killed, their murderers making their escape.

9th.—The enemy having completed their works and mounted their guns, their batteries opened on the evening of this day with great vigour, that on the right of eight 24-pounders, and that on the left of four 24-pounders and two eighteens. Day and night the cannonade continued without intermission—we, as well as we could, keeping up a reply. Several shot having struck the Charon and Guadaloupe, they were removed farther down the river. It will be impossible to account for the killed and wounded in each day’s action. I may be able to say something about it if I come out of the work alive. All I can now say is that the slaughter is very great. Among the killed this day is the commissary-general, who with several other officers lost their lives, while sitting at dinner, by a shell which burst among them.

10th.—The enemy opened several fresh batteries to-day. One of them commanded the Charon, on which they began to cannonade with red-hot shot. I heard of her danger from Tom Rockets, who came hurrying into the battery with a look of as much concern as if the town had been taken.

“They’re at her, sir!” he exclaimed. “They’re blazing away like fury, and I see’d smoke, when last I looked at her, coming up her main-hatchway. Poor old barkie! I don’t by no manner of means like the look of things.”

I could ill spare any of my people from the battery, but I despatched a master’s mate, with Grampus, Rockets, and a few other men, to render what assistance they could. They, however, very soon returned.

“I know’d it would be so,” exclaimed old Grampus, throwing down his hat and almost blubbering outright. “The dear old barkie, there’s an end on her. I know’d she was to have ill-luck from the time we first came inside them Capes of Virginia; but I didn’t think, that I didn’t, that she’d have been blown to blazes by them infernal hot iron balls, which to my mind ain’t fit for Christians to make use on, that they ain’t. Well, there was we a-waiting for a boat to get aboard her, though I didn’t think there was much use, seeing she was in a blaze from stem to stern. In a few minutes the flames licked and coiled themselves up round the masts and spars till they reached the mast-heads, and then she broke adrift from her moorings, and, not content with getting burnt herself, what should she do but drive aboard a transport which she set on fire, and then there the two were burning away together, without the power of mortal man to stop them. The enemy were still commanding them, while our old barkie, to show that she was game to the last, kept firing away her own guns as long as one of them remained mounted, and then up she went in a shower of sparks and flames, and wasn’t long in burning to the water’s edge.”

The master’s mate told me that, notwithstanding the circumstances Nol had described, he could scarcely restrain him and the other men from shoving off to get aboard the frigate. The inconvenience we suffered, the loss of our things, was not to be compared to our regret for the destruction, (for her rate), of one of the finest ships in the Navy. Scenes almost indescribable of distress and death, misery and suffering, now crowd around us on every side.

This evening the enemy, having mounted more of his artillery, totally silenced Number 5 battery commanded by the first lieutenant of the Charon, the shot and shells having torn up his platforms and dismounted his guns. He, with his men, was therefore obliged to quit it. At ten o’clock at night the enemy under cover of their guns made a general attack from the centre to the left, but were again repulsed. Twice I witnessed the Hessians give way before the enemy in front of my works. The cannonade continued all night with a warmth hitherto unsurpassed. The slaughter in all parts of the town was very great. We were occasionally employed in restoring the works which the enemy had knocked down. Not a moment was there for rest; every man was employed either in fighting or toiling with pickaxe or shovel. Many parts of the town were set on fire, a lurid glare being cast over the whole scene, exposing to sight the falling buildings, the brave garrison working their guns or labouring in the trenches, the wounded carried off on litters, the dead strewed about in every direction; the whole to my idea presenting a picture more awful and terrific than any I had ever yet beheld; yet I had seen, as may be remembered, in my day a good deal of hard fighting.

11th.—No words of mine can properly describe the dreadful condition to which our small but brave garrison was reduced. The enemy this evening began their second parallel by which they advanced three hundred yards nearer to us. Their fire continued incessant from heavy artillery and mortars, and we opened fresh embrasures to flank their works, keeping up a constant fire from all the howitzers and small mortars were possessed. Upwards of a thousand shells were thrown into the works this night, and every spot alike became dangerous. To talk of the thundering of the cannon, the cries of the wounded, and the shrieks and distressing gestures of the inhabitants, whose dwellings were in flames, and knew not where to seek for safety, will but give a faint picture of what was taking place. Yet amidst all this havoc, destruction, and suffering, the known scarcity of everything necessary to prolong the siege, no murmuring was heard. Not a wish was expressed to give up the town while the most distant hope remained of our being relieved. On the contrary, our gallant little army, taking example from their chief, exhibited the most undaunted resolution, and hourly gave proof of their attachment to the noble general who had so often led them on to victory in the field. One man there is, and one only, who may well tremble at the result. Often do I think of him and what his fate will be if the place is taken by assault. Yet, strange to say, he appears as cool and fearless as the rest. On this night the enemy burnt several transports with red-hot shot and sunk two others from a battery on the left. The inhabitants who still remained in the town, and other non-combatants, were now living in holes under the cliffs or along the shore by the river side. Even there, however, they were not safe, the shot finding them out in their places of refuge and destroying numbers of them. My great anxiety was for Colonel Carlyon. He was recovering from his wounds, but I dreaded lest a stray shot or shell might penetrate the hospital, and that he might share the fate of so many of our own people. I sent him a message whenever I had an opportunity, and received many kind expressions from him in return.

12th.—At eight o’clock this morning the enemy sunk one of the fire-ships from a fresh battery thrown up during the night. All day a hot fire was kept up from it which almost completed the destruction of the shipping intended for the defence of the town against an attack by sea.

At nine o’clock the chief officer of artillery waited on the commodore with a message from Lord Cornwallis, requesting that the lieutenants of the navy with their men should move on from the right into the hornwork on the left, which the crews of the transports had quitted in consequence of the heavy fire to which it was exposed. It was every instant expected that the enemy would storm the works. Hearing this, I immediately volunteered to work this battery, and set off for it accordingly, with a midshipman and thirty-six seamen, it being understood that I was to be relieved in eight hours by the first lieutenant. In fifty-two minutes after my arrival in the hornwork the enemy silenced the three left guns by closing the embrasures, and shortly afterwards they dismounted a twelve-pounder, knocked off the muzzles of two eighteens, and for the last hour and a half of the time I had undertaken to hold the post left me with one eighteen-pounder. Although even a part of its muzzle also was shot away, I kept up a fire with it, determining to hold out to the last. My poor fellows were falling thick around me. Numbers had been wounded; scarcely one had escaped; eight had been killed. Tom Rockets had received a bad injury on one arm; still he worked away with the other, helping as best he could to load and fire the gun. The midshipman, Nol Grampus, and I were the only men in the battery uninjured. Old Nol stood as upright and undaunted as ever. The gun had just been loaded; he held the match in his hand; he was about to fire. At that instant I saw a shell pitching into the battery. Our gun went off. Its roar seemed louder than before. At the same instant there was the noise of the bursting of the shell. I was covered with dust and smoke. It cleared away, but when I looked out for Grampus, expecting to see him at the gun, he was gone. A little way off lay a mangled form. I ran up. It was that of my old faithful follower and friend. He knew me, but he was breathing out his last.

“I knowed it would be so, Mr Hurry,” he whispered, as I stooped down over him. “When I saw the old barkie go I knowed that the days of many on us was numbered. I’d have like to have seen the war ended, and you, Mr Hurry, made happy. Bless you, my boy, bless you! You’ve always showed your love for the old seaman. Well, it’s all right. I don’t fear to die. He who rules up aloft knows what’s best. He will have mercy on a poor ignorant sailor who trusts on One who came on earth to save him. That’s my religion. You stick to that, boy! I can’t see. I’m cold, very cold.”

I took my old friend’s hand. He pressed it faintly. “Thank ye, thank ye,” I thought he said. His lips moved for a few moments, then suddenly he fell back. A shudder passed through his frame, and he was gone. A better or a braver seaman than Nol Grampus never died fighting for his sovereign’s cause.

I had to spring up and help work the gun, for another of my poor fellows was just knocked over. I looked at my watch. It was the time my relief should arrive, and time it was, for the midshipman and I were the only two now remaining unhurt. Out of the thirty-six men who followed me into the battery nine lay dead, eight more were breathing out their last on the ground, and of the nineteen others most had lost either an arm or a leg.

At last my brother-officer with some men appeared. He stood aghast, as well he might, at the spectacle presented to him. As he was approaching me a shell fell in the space between us, sending its fragments in every direction. I felt that I was wounded, and, staggering back, I fell to the ground. My brother-officer ran to lift me up. I found that I had been struck on the right leg and received a severe contusion on the head, but in a few minutes I was able to stand. The midshipman also was wounded in the arm by the same shell, and he and I were the only two people able to walk out of the battery. Of the others several died before they were removed. I left it at a quarter-past six, and on my way past the redoubt, where he had been the greater part of the time, I received the thanks of my Lord Cornwallis for what he was pleased to call my gallantry and determination.

13th.—Too clearly does it appear that a struggle in which we can scarcely hope to be the victors is approaching. The besiegers have greatly augmented the number of their guns and mortars in the works of their second parallel, while our lines, it is evident, are becoming every hour more and more defenceless. Even the most sanguine begin to despair of the arrival of relief in time to save the garrison from a surrender, although the commander-in-chief at New York sends us assurance that he will come to our aid; but he has not started, and any hour may seal our fate.

At five this evening, in spite of my wound, I again quitted my battery on the right, having volunteered to command two eighteen-pounders on the left. I kept up a constant fire with them all night on the enemy’s works. By the morning the battery was masked, and I and my people returned to our own works.

14th.—Our works were now in every direction reduced almost to heaps of ruins, and incapable of withstanding the tremendous fire poured into them by the enemy’s artillery, which, from want of ammunition, we had no power of silencing. Considerable breaches were made in our strongest batteries and redoubts; indeed, it was too evident that they were no longer tenable. Early this morning the enemy sunk another fire-ship and two transports; at seven in the evening they attempted to storm the flanking redoubts to the right, but were repulsed with considerable loss. We were all kept on the qui vive, for it was evident that they had not done with us yet. This was proved at nine o’clock, when we were warned that they were advancing against us with a force believed to be not less than 17,000 men. From right to left they came on, with drums beating and loud huzzas, and attempted to storm our works. We opened on them with all our guns from one end of our works to the other. They replied with their musketry, and it may well be supposed how terrific appeared that blaze of fire extending throughout the whole length of that wide-stretching line. It was a sight which, although many are the battles I have seen, I shall never forget. Then there were the burning houses, the bursting shells, the roar of the artillery, the rattle of the musketry, the crashing of falling buildings, the blowing-up of mines, the cries of the combatants, the shrieks of the wounded, the loud clang of the martial bands, the wild huzzas of the stormers, the defiant shouts of our gallant fellows,—all these must be thrown in, and yet after all no adequate conception can be formed of that midnight scene of slaughter and destruction. Our men fought fiercely and desperately; soldiers and sailors vied with each other in their feats of gallantry. Bravely they stood at the breaches in our crumbling works; the sick and wounded rushed to the trenches. I heard a voice near me which I recognised as that of Tom Rockets.

“I thought you had been in your bed, Tom,” said I.

“So I was, sir,” he answered; “but I couldn’t stay there when this sort of fun was going on, so as I’d yet one arm at liberty I thought as how I’d come and use it alongside you, Mr Hurry; I knew you wasn’t over well to do either.”

Tom had no jacket on, and his arm was bound up just as it had been when he managed to make his escape from the hospital. Although in most directions we drove the enemy back, they managed to carry two of our flanking redoubts on the left, which had hitherto retarded their approaches, when nearly all the poor fellows in them were, as is generally the case when a post is taken by storm, put to the bayonet.

15th.—The enemy lost no time in throwing up a line of communication between the two flanking redoubts, which they perfected before daylight. The consequence of this to us was most disastrous, for they would now rake the whole of our lines. Still we persevered and returned, though it must be owned but feebly, the vigorous fire they kept up on us.

16th.—At half-past four in the morning, Lord Cornwallis directed a sortie to be made in order to destroy or to spike the guns in one of the enemy’s batteries which was causing us most annoyance. The party consisted of about a hundred and fifty men from the guards, the light infantry and the 80th regiment. Never have I seen a more spirited or dashing affair. Away they went, nor stopped till they had surmounted the enemy’s works, which were found to be occupied by French troops, upwards of a hundred of whom were bayoneted. Eleven guns were spiked and in five minutes they were back again within our lines with the loss only of twelve killed and wounded. Scarcely anything took place in the garrison with which the enemy were not made acquainted. The general, therefore, never allowed any of his intentions to transpire till the moment of execution. It was therefore without much surprise that I heard at midnight that boats were in readiness to convey the troops over to the Gloucester side, and that the seamen were to keep up as heavy a fire as we could, to deceive the enemy. When the troops had passed over we were to make a rush for the boats and get across to follow them as best we could. What was then to be done we were left to divine. The sick and wounded and prisoners, and our guns and stores, were of course to be abandoned. Scarcely had I heard of the proposed plan before I found that the embarkation had commenced. The night had been threatening, and now a storm with wind and rain, thunder and lightning, such as I had not often witnessed, commenced and increased in fury. It made our work easier in deceiving the enemy, though our artillery seemed but a mockery of the thunder of the skies. Our gallant seamen felt that the safety of the army depended on their exertions, and in spite of the showers of shot and shell falling among us all night, most nobly did they stand to their guns. The time was approaching when I expected to receive orders to call them off from the lines, that we might commence our retreat. O’Driscoll was engaged in the embarkation of the troops. He was to come when they had crossed, to assist me in managing the retreat of the seamen. At length I heard his voice in my battery.

“All right,” I exclaimed. “One shot more and we’ll make a run for it.”

“Not at all right,” was his answer. “The plan has failed, and if the enemy discover our condition we are done for. I came to stop you from leaving your guns.”

“What has happened?” I exclaimed.

“The larger part of the army were got across in safety when the gale increased so much that I began to doubt the possibility of passing over any more. Even the empty boats could scarcely make head against it. I was going to represent this to the commodore, when I found that two of the boats full of troops had drifted down the river before the gale. If the poor fellows in them have escaped drowning, they will by daylight fall into the hands of the enemy. This settled the question; the further embarkation of the troops has been stopped, and now I must hurry away to endeavour to get the main body back again before our manoeuvre is discovered.”

The troops remaining on the York side once more returned to the lines, and the night passed away, as had many previous nights, both sides keeping up a heavy cannonade with the addition of the fearful storm which raged till long after the sun had risen on the scene of slaughter and destruction.

The plan formed by our noble general was worthy of him, desperate as it may appear, and would, I believe, have succeeded had not the elements been against him. Sallying from the lines at Gloucester Point as soon as all the army had crossed over, he intended to attack the camp of the French cavalry, mount the infantry on their horses, and push on by rapid marches towards the north, till he could form a junction with such forces as Sir Henry Clinton might send out to his support. Part of the navy and a small body of troops were to be left behind to arrange terms for the inhabitants as well as for our poor wounded and sick men, who could not be moved. The baggage also of course was to have been abandoned. Had the plan succeeded, it would have been looked upon as one of the most gallant exploits on record. Still many lives might have been sacrificed and no adequate object obtained, so I doubt not that events turned out for the best.

17th.—At length the storm began to abate, but great was our anxiety lest the enemy should discover our situation and attack us. Happily they did not come on, and by noon we were able to bring back that part of the army which had crossed the river. Our generals held a council of war, and it became known that the sad hour had arrived when we must sue for terms with the enemy, or undergo all the dangers of an assault with the certainty of being defeated at last. With feelings of sorrow and regret we saw the flag of truce depart. We waited the result with anxiety. Whatever were the terms proposed they were peremptorily refused by the enemy, and our brave general determined to hold out for one day more on the bare possibility of relief arriving from New York. The fire accordingly re-commenced on both sides with greater fury than before.

18th.—During the whole morning the fire from all the batteries continued with unabated warmth, though one after the other our guns were becoming useless. I continued working away at mine with gloomy desperation. I was suffering from my wounds, from fatigue, and from hunger too, for our provisions had almost failed us. I could have gone on, however, as long as a man remained alive to help me work my guns. At last a shot came through the embrasure at which was a gun I was on the point of firing. Suddenly I felt my arm jerked up—the match dropped from my nerveless arm, and I fell. At that moment the signal was given to cease firing. Another flag of truce was going forth. I felt that I was desperately wounded—I believed that my last hour had come.

It was just then four o’clock. This was nearly the last shot fired during that hateful and fratricidal war. Angels were rejoicing that blood had ceased to flow, though proud British hearts were sad and humbled at the thoughts of their defeat. That hour struck the knell of England’s supremacy in the West, and gave forth the first glad notes of the establishment of American Independence. Directly afterwards the cannonade from the side of the enemy ceased along the whole extent of their line.

My men, when they saw me on the ground, lifted me up, and placed me on a litter already deeply stained with blood. O’Driscoll arrived, and sincere was the sorrow and commiseration he expressed when he saw me. I inquired for Colonel Carlyon, and entreated that I might be conveyed to where he was.

I felt a longing desire to see Madeline’s father once more, and to send by him, should he survive, my last message of love and devotion to her. I thought that he would not hesitate about delivering them.

“I will inquire where your friend the colonel is,” answered O’Driscoll. “He was removed, I know, for the house where he lay was too much battered to be longer tenable. I am uncertain to what quarters he has been removed.”

My heart sank within me when I heard these words, for I fully believed that Colonel Carlyon had been killed, and that O’Driscoll was unwilling to wound my feelings by the information. My men now moved on with me through the town. I need not again describe the scenes I witnessed—the dead scattered about, piles of ruins, houses battered and blackened, the remnant of the inhabitants wandering about looking for their lost friends, maimed and wounded soldiers and seamen—gaunt, pale and starved—others still unhurt, looking angry and sullen at the thought of our defeat. Officers were standing about in groups, greeting each other with vexed and sorrowful looks. I was suffering too much physically to feel deeply on the matter, but my sensations were of a very mixed character, and I do not feel that it was derogatory to my character, as a loyal subject of his Majesty, or as a British officer, to say that I heartily prayed that the war might be over, even though the proposed humiliating surrender might be the last great event connected with it. After I had been conveyed through several ruined, half-burned streets, my bearers at length stopped at a house where O’Driscoll told me he believed Colonel Carlyon was to be found.

Such was the case. Though sitting up, he was unable to walk. The expression of sorrow and commiseration which lit up his countenance, and the kind words with which he greeted me, gave me the assurance that I was regarded by him in the light I desired. It was some time before a surgeon could attend me—so many more urgent cases demanding the care of the medical men in every direction. In the meantime notice was brought us that a cessation of arms had been agreed on, and which time was afterwards increased till the following day.

Like a father or a fond brother did Colonel Carlyon tend me all that night, refusing to lie down till my wounds had been dressed, and I had sunk into the slumber I so much needed.

19th.—The day—painful, though scarcely to be called humiliating, to the brave army which had so heroically endured that desperate if not protracted siege—at length arrived. Lord Cornwallis, finding that our enemies had resolved to grant us alone the terms which they had previously offered—that we had not as yet experienced the effect of the fire from the flanking redoubts, armed with numerous pieces of heavy artillery ready to open on us—that our garrison was now reduced to scarcely three thousand effective men, in want both of provisions and ammunition—felt that the only course open to him, to prevent the horrors of an assault, and to save the lives of the remainder of his troops, was to accept them. Accordingly, at noon, the army surrendered prisoners-of-war to the United States of America, while the navy became prisoners by arrangement to the Compte de Grasse. At one o’clock a regiment of American troops, followed by one of French, took possession of the works, with drums beating and colours flying, when the British flag was struck, and that of America displayed in its stead. At three o’clock the British troops marched out, with drums beating and colours cased, towards the enemy’s lines. There in a wide field were drawn up the armies of the allies, with the generals ready to receive them. Proud and happy, indeed, must Washington and his brethren-in-arms have felt at this, to them, glorious termination of the struggle.

Sullen and sad looked our men, I was told, as, with gestures of impatience and vexation, they grounded their arms, and then marched back into the town. At the same time the enemy took possession of all our lines and works. My wounds, though severe, were not dangerous, and I was able to take an interest in all that was going forward, and to receive the visits of friends who came to inquire after me and to offer me assistance. With regard to the condition of the garrison on the day we surrendered, I can state positively that, on a correct muster, we were unable to march out more than two thousand five hundred men. We found, therefore, that we had lost, in killed and wounded, upwards of a thousand, and from sickness four hundred and fifty. From this calculation it will be seen that we had about a hundred and ten killed and wounded every day after the enemy opened their batteries. The remaining troops were at Gloucester, on the other side of the river, the works of which they bravely defended to the last.

The ruinous condition of the town and works, which altogether did not cover half a mile of ground in length and nothing like it in width, may be conceived by the accounts I have already given. I may remark that from one end to the other it was strewed with shot and shell, and had truly the appearance of a ploughed field. I must not close my account of the public events of this memorable period without speaking of the civility and humanity the English prisoners received from the French—so different to that which I experienced when I fell into their hands at Saint Domingo. They showed evident compassion for our condition, and not only rendered us every delicate attention in their power, but gave the officers a captain’s guard of grenadiers to guard them from the insolence and abuse of the American soldiers, who showed, it was said, much disposition to ill-treat and rob them. The excitement and the great exertion made by all had hitherto kept at bay the attacks of sickness from many who now began, their toils over, to succumb to them. Intermittent fevers appeared, and few, I believe, escaped. Among those who died was my gallant friend and brother-officer, Lieutenant Conway, whose name I have before frequently mentioned. For my own part, I received the greatest personal kindness both from Americans and French. Those especially who had at any time received any attention from the English seemed anxious on this occasion to exhibit their gratitude. Among them I must particularly mention Monsieur Clenard who commanded the Compte D’Artois, the French ship we and the Bienfaisant took off Ireland. He now commanded one of the ships of war in the French fleet. He showed the Charon’s, in particular, every mark of esteem and kindness. So did a French officer we took in the Peggy privateer, when we went in search of the French fleet, and whom we had properly treated when he was on board us. Such conduct reflects the highest honour on the French, and authorises them to expect, should any of their people at any time by the chances of war fall into our hands, the same kindness and consideration.

The American officers were not backward in the same liberal and generous conduct. I had on one occasion—I omitted to mention it—an opportunity of showing a favour to the son of a Colonel Matthews in the American army. Colonel Matthews immediately came and offered money, servants and horses, and invited me to his house as soon as I could be moved. Mr Jones also, a gentleman residing at Hampton, whose family I had met there, sent the instant he heard we had been defeated to ascertain how he could best serve me, and wrote to assure me that, should I decide to remain on my parole in America, he would request General Washington to allow me to reside at his house, and that money or anything he had was at my service. Just at the same time I received a similar message from Mrs Langton, whose house was not more than seven miles from York Town. I need scarcely say that, grateful as I felt for all the other offers of kindness I had received. I resolved, should I have the power, to accept hers. The public events which took place on the days subsequent to the surrender may not be considered of general interest. On the 20th the French ships of war came up the harbour, and on the following day the British troops were marched into the country, where they were to be distributed, and kept as prisoners of war till the conclusion of peace. The seamen still remained in the town. On the 21st, paroles of honour were granted to the officers of the Navy, who were to go to Europe in flags of truce with all the seamen and marines. Every exertion was made to fit out the vessels remaining in the harbour for this purpose, but it was not till the 2nd of November that they were ready to take their departure. On the very day we capitulated, Sir Henry Clinton, with a large fleet of line-of-battle ships and frigates, with seven thousand of his best troops, set sail from New York. He did not appear off the Capes of Virginia till the 24th, when, hearing what had occurred, he returned to New York. It was not, however, till the 26th of January, 1782, that a treaty of peace was signed at Paris, the happy news of which reached Philadelphia on the 23rd of March. But I am anticipating events.

Colonel Carlyon was sufficiently recovered two days after the surrender of York Town to be removed to Mrs Langton’s, but several days elapsed before I was able to follow him, when I obtained permission from the commodore as well as from the Compte de Grasse, to remain in America till my health was restored. I had an affectionate parting with O’Driscoll and with my old follower, Tom Rockets, who were the bearers of many messages from me to my family.

“Tell them, O’Driscoll,” said I, “that though I am a loyal subject of King George, I see no reason why I should not win the hand, as I believe I have the heart, of a daughter of America.”

“You’re right, my dear boy,” he answered. “You’ll be doing the most loyal thing in your power, for you’ll be winning back a subject who would otherwise be lost, and gaining many little subjects too, maybe, old fellow,” he added, with a poke in my wounded ribs which almost upset me.

At length a litter was brought into my room, and I was carried in it on men’s shoulders to the house of my friends. What words of mine can do justice to the generous kindness and the delicate attention with which I was treated by all the family, and the marks of tender affection I received from one who was there to welcome me? When I first looked up, after I had been placed on the bed prepared for my wounded form, Madeline stood by my side. My wounds healed. I rapidly recovered my strength, and then the depressing feeling of my poverty, of my utter inability to support a wife as I desired that Madeline should be maintained, came over me. She ascertained the cause of my despondency.

“But papa can obtain employment for you,” she remarked. “Why not, when there is peace, leave the British Navy and enter that of the United States? Surely it is equally honourable!”

Little did she know, when she said that, how, with all its faults, I loved the glorious Navy of England: I perhaps scarcely knew myself, till the sensations which the suggestion conjured up in my bosom told me. Even the idea of quitting the sea and following some occupation on shore had not the attraction for me which might have been supposed. Still I had resolved to adopt the latter alternative if her father would bestow her hand on me. He had been absent for some time, attending to public affairs. At length he returned. I explained to him my position. I thought he looked grave and sad as I went on speaking.

“I have been under a mistake,” he observed. “I thought that you were in the expectation of receiving a good property, and that you would have the means of supporting my dear child. This war has ruined my estate, and I am but little able to leave her anything. It will be better for you both to part; I grieve that you should have again met.”

These words pierced me to the heart, and overthrew all the bright visions I had conjured up. They were so unlike, too, what I expected to hear from him. I pressed my hands on my face and groaned. I dared not meet Madeline. I thought that, too probably, he would prohibit me from seeing her again. I sat the picture of despair. Just then a negro servant entered the room, and gave a packet of letters to the colonel. He handed me one with a black seal. Another blow. Some other member of my family dead. It is too bitter. I cannot stand this. I’ll go to sea again, and hope that in mercy I may lose that life which has become too burdensome to bear. Such thoughts, (wrong and impious I know they were), passed through my mind as I kept the letter in my hand before breaking the seal. I looked at the superscription. It was from my dear sister Jane. I tore it open. The contents soon riveted my attention. It was not long. One passage ran thus:—

“Some weeks ago, our old relation, Sir Hurricane Tempest, much to our surprise, sent to ask one of us to go and nurse him, saying that he was, he believed, on his death-bed, and beseeching us to have compassion on a friendless, childless old man. The lot fell on me. I found him very different to what I expected, and interested in all matters concerning us. Do you remember, Hurry, rescuing an old gentleman from the mob in London during the Lord George Gordon riots? That was Sir Hurricane himself. He knew you; and when I told him about you, and that you had fallen in love with an American lady, the daughter of a rebel, and that you had no means of marrying her, he answered, ‘But he shall have the means. I’ll give them to him. I like his spirit. I like her. Her friends have espoused the right side—the side of liberty. They were not afraid to stand up boldly against tyranny and injustice. Tell him I shall be happy to welcome the little rebel as my niece, if I live, and, at all events, to know that her children will inherit my property.’ Soon after this our kind old uncle died, and he has left you, as far as I can understand, fully three thousand a year.”

How my heart bounded when I heard these words! I handed the letter to Colonel Carlyon. He rose and took my hand.

“I had not intended to be very stern when, just now, I spoke to you,” he said, and I knew that he spoke the truth. “I wished to ascertain whether your affection for my daughter was as great as I was assured it is. I know that you are eager to give her, before she hears it from others, the satisfactory information you have received. Go and tell her.”

I did. A few days subsequent to the news of peace being received, we were married. After a tour in the States she accompanied me to England, and my American bride won golden opinions from all the relatives and friends to whom I had the happiness of introducing her. A dutiful and affectionate wife she has always been to me, and I have had just cause to be thankful that I married the Little Rebel.

W.H.G. Kingston

"In New Granada"

Chapter One.

Introductory—My father’s history—Enters the navy as a surgeon—Learns Spanish—Appointed to the “Zebra,” in the Pacific—Takes Dicky Duff under his charge—A shooting expedition on shore—Captured by Spaniards on coast of Guatemala with Dicky and Paul Loro—Carried to Panama—Meets an old friend, who takes him to Guayaquil—Visit Loja to inspect Peruvian bark—Meets Dr Cazalla—Accompanies him to Popayan—He marries Miss Cazalla, who becomes my mother; and Richard Duffield marries her niece, an heiress—They both settle at Popayan.

The circumstances which led my father, Dr Andrew Sinclair, to settle in New Granada—the land of my birth—are of so romantic a character, that I cannot better preface an account of my own adventures in that country than by narrating them.

My grandfather, Duncan Sinclair, after whom I was named, was a member of an old Covenanter family in Dumfriesshire, and was the parent of six sons,—all of whom, with the exception of the eldest, who inherited the estate, had to seek their fortune in the world. My father was his fourth son. Having gone through a medical course at the University of Edinburgh, where he gained not only a knowledge of his profession, but of science generally, he entered the Royal Navy as an assistant-surgeon, and was ultimately promoted to the rank of surgeon. Among his many other talents, he possessed that of acquiring foreign languages, and he spoke French and Spanish remarkably well; though at the time he learned the latter—from a wounded Spanish prisoner, whose life was saved by his skill—he little thought how useful it would prove to him. After visiting many parts of the world, adding greatly to his store of information, he was appointed to the Zebra sloop-of-war of eighteen guns, which soon after sailed for the Pacific.

Among the youngsters on board was a midshipman named Richard Duffield,—generally known, however, as Dicky Duff. He was the orphan son of an old messmate, who had been killed in action. The brave lieutenant’s last thoughts, as he lay mortally wounded in the cockpit, the guns still thundering overhead, were about his son.

“The boy’s mother is dead, and when I am gone he’ll not have a friend in the world. Doctor, will you look after him? I know you will!”

“Don’t let any doubt about that trouble you. I’ll act a father’s part towards your boy as well as I am able,” was the answer.

My father faithfully fulfilled his promise; and when the boy was old enough, he got him placed on the quarter-deck, and generally managed to take him to sea with himself. Richard Duffield was grateful for the kindness shown him, and became much attached to his protector, with whom he had many tastes in common.

My father, whenever he had an opportunity, was in the habit of going on shore with his gun, to obtain specimens of the birds and beasts of the country; while he also frequently brought off a bag of game for the benefit of the commander and his own messmates. On such occasions he was generally accompanied by Dicky Duff, who had become as good a sportsman as himself.

On one occasion, when the Zebra was off the coast of Guatemala in Central America, my father, having obtained a boat from the commander, left the ship, taking with him Dicky Duff, and their constant attendant, Paul Lobo, an African seaman, and a crew of six men. No inhabitants appearing, the boat was hauled up on the beach, and the crew amused themselves at leap-frog and other games, while my father and his two attendants proceeded some way inland. Having had very good sport, and filled their bags, my father sent back the midshipman and Paul to the boat with the game, while he continued shooting, hoping to obtain some more birds.

He had been thus employed for some time, and was thinking of returning, when the sound of several shots reached his ears. These were followed by a regular volley, and he had too much reason to fear that the inhabitants had attacked the boat. Instead, therefore, of returning to her, he made his way directly towards the shore. Emerging from the forest, which reached almost to the water’s edge, he saw the boat at some distance off, with a party of men on the beach firing at her. His hope was that Dicky and Paul had already got on board before the boat shoved off. The distance was considerable, but still he hoped to be able to swim to her; so, leaving his gun and ammunition, with the game he had shot, under a tree, he plunged into the water. He had got some distance from the shore when he found that he was discovered, by seeing a shot strike the water not far from him. On looking round, what was his dismay to perceive Dicky and Paul in the hands of the Spaniards! He could not desert them, and consequently he at once turned and swam back, hoping that by explaining their object in visiting the shore he might obtain their release. But no sooner did he land than the Spaniards rushed down and seized him. In vain he expostulated. “He and his companions belonged to a ship of war, and they wished to be able to boast that they had made three prisoners.” They told him, however, that if he would make signals to the boat to return, they would give him and his younger companions their liberty. On his refusing to act so treacherously, they became very angry, and bound his hands behind him, as well as those of Dicky and Paul. The seamen at once pulled back to the ship, when the captain sent a flag of truce on shore to try and recover his surgeon and midshipman; but the Spaniards refused to give them up.

After being kept prisoners for some time, they were sent down to Panama. Here, though strictly guarded, they were not ill-treated; and when it became known that my father was a surgeon, many persons, of all ranks, applied to him for advice. He was thus the means of effecting several cures, by which he obtained numerous friends. Indeed, he might here have established a good practice, and have comfortably supported himself and his companions; but he was anxious, for Dicky’s sake especially, to return with him to the ship. There was no place, however, nearer than Cartagena, at which it was customary to exchange prisoners; and how to get to it, was the difficulty.

He had been kept a prisoner for some months, when, passing through the streets, he met his old acquaintance, Don Tomaso Serrano, from whom, while Don Tomaso was a prisoner on board his ship, he had learned Spanish. They immediately recognised each other, and expressed their pleasure at meeting. Don Tomaso, on hearing what had befallen my father, told him that he was in command of a man-of-war schooner, and was about to proceed in her to the southward. “Although I cannot obtain your liberty,” he said, “I have sufficient influence to get leave for you and your companions to come on board my vessel and proceed with me as far as Guayaquil. I have friends there, whom I hope to interest in your favour; and by their influence you will, I hope, be able to obtain permission to land and travel across the country to Honda, from whence you can make your way down the river to Cartagena. It is a round-about route, but it may prove the shortest in the end. You will have an opportunity, too, of seeing a beautiful region; and you cannot fail, I am sure, to be hospitably treated wherever you go.”

My father at once closed with Don Tomaso’s offer, and was allowed to go on board the schooner, accompanied by Dicky and Paul. Having obtained a considerable sum of money, he was able to dress both of them, as well as himself, in Spanish costume, so that they did not attract attention; and as both he and Paul spoke Spanish perfectly, they were generally taken for natives. Though still prisoners, the party were treated with the greatest kindness, and enjoyed as much liberty as they could desire.

Heavy weather coming on, the schooner ran into the port of Buenaventura. Beyond the bay, opening into it, is a lagoon of considerable extent. On one side is the town, a great part of which is built on piles at the water’s edge. The place has but little to recommend it; indeed, there are scarcely a dozen houses of any size, while the rest of the buildings have a miserable appearance both without and within. Above the town stands the church,—a building of no architectural pretensions, and greatly resembling a barn. Buenaventura is the port of a considerable district, embracing the valley of the Cauca. The climate, however, owing to the constant damp and heat, which produce intermittent fevers, prevents foreigners from residing here; indeed, it rains nearly every day in the year.

Most of my father’s time on shore was occupied in visiting persons suffering from ague, and in prescribing for them. What a blessing, indeed, can a clever medical man prove in such regions! He is like a heaven-sent messenger carrying relief to the sick and suffering.

The weather moderating, the schooner continued her voyage, and at length reached Guayaquil, the port of Quito, to the south of which it is situated, at the head of the Gulf of Guayaquil. Here Don Tomaso proved as good as his word, and obtained leave from the governor for my father to travel with his attendants through the country.

While on shore at Guayaquil, he heard that in the region of the little town of Loja, three days’ journey off, grew in the greatest profusion the cinchona, or Peruvian bark tree, at that time but comparatively little known in Europe. Although my father was well acquainted with the beneficial effect produced by the bark in cases of intermittent fever, he was anxious to ascertain, by personal examination, the other peculiarities of the tree. He obtained leave, therefore, from the governor, to proceed in the first instance to Loja. That place he reached without difficulty. On his arrival in the town, he found that a Spanish doctor was residing there for the same object, but that he was now laid up by a severe attack of illness, unable to continue his researches. My father immediately called on him, and found that he was no other than Doctor Cazalla, a physician widely celebrated for his scientific knowledge and talents. Introducing himself as a medical man, my father offered to prescribe for his brother physician, and in a short time had the satisfaction of restoring him to health. The two doctors then set out together on an expedition of botanical research, in which both Dicky and Paul accompanied them.

The time thus spent together having resulted in the establishment of a warm friendship between my father and the Spanish doctor, the latter prevailed upon him to visit Popayan, his native place, on the way to Cartagena. Their journey over that mountain region amid which Chimborazo towers to the sky, was interesting in the extreme. I have often heard my father speak of it. Popayan was at length safely reached, with the botanical treasures they had collected; and here my father was induced to remain for some time, in order to assist his friend in their arrangement. Before their labours came to an end, my father and Dicky were taken seriously ill. It now became the turn of the Spanish doctor to attend to them. He, however, was aided in his task by two ladies,—his sister and a young niece; the latter taking Dicky under her special charge. The result was that my father married the doctor’s sister, and Dicky fell desperately in love with his niece. The war with Spain was by this time over, and the Zebra had returned to England, so my father and his young charge, believing that they had little prospect of getting on in the navy, determined to remain where they were. As Doctor Cazalla was engrossed in scientific pursuits, he gladly yielded up his practice to my father, his brother-in-law, whose fame as a physician was soon established in the town and throughout the surrounding district.

Richard Duffield, for I ought now to give him his proper name, in the course of a few years married Dona Maria, the girl who had so affectionately tended him, and who proved to be the heiress to a nice estate in the neighbourhood, to the improvement of which, when he became the proprietor, Richard devoted his time and attention; while Paul Lobo remained with my father as his personal attendant and general factotum.

Chapter Two.

Our studies interrupted—Don Juan de Leon—A ride to visit Don Ricardo, accompanied by Hugh and our tutor, Mr Laffan—Description of Popayan—Tyrannical treatment of New Granada and Venezuela by the Spaniards—Previous struggles of the colonists for liberty—Fearful cruelties inflicted on them by the Spaniards—My uncle, Dr Cazalla, a known Liberal—His dangerous position—How Mr Laffan became our tutor—Juan expatiates on the perfections of Dona Dolores, and invites me to accompany him on a visit—Pass a party of Indians—Don Ricardo’s hacienda—Fruits of New Granada—Invited to stay—Juan, our tutor, and I serenade Dona Dolores—The interview—Dona Dolores endeavours to arouse Juan’s patriotism—Music victorious—A heroine—Juan devotes himself to the cause of freedom.

“Holloa! mio amigo Señor Duncan, come down! I want to have a talk with you. You can spare a few minutes from your books.”

Leaving the table at which I was seated with my brother Hugh and our tutor, Mr Michael Laffan, I went to the window, which looked out into the court of our house at Popayan, when I saw that the person who had hailed me was our friend Don Juan de Leon. He had just ridden in, mounted on a fine black horse, his special pride; and as he gracefully sat his steed, he looked a remarkably handsome young fellow. His costume, too,—a broad-brimmed sombrero, a feather secured to it by a jewelled buckle, a richly-trimmed poncho or capote over his shoulders, broad leggings, ornamented with braiding and tags, and large silver spurs,—became him well.

“Come down, Duncan, I want to speak to you,” he said, beckoning to me.

Having obtained permission, I descended to the courtyard with a hop, skip, and jump. After shaking hands, I begged him to come in, as I was sure the ladies of my family would be glad to see him.

“I have no time now,” he answered; “I hope to pay my respects to-morrow.”

“What have you to say to me?” I asked.

“I want you to come with me to visit your friends Don Ricardo and Dona Maria at Egido. You can easily obtain a holiday from Señor Miguel. As the ride is a long one, I shall be glad of your companionship. You will have no objection either, I am sure, to enjoying the bright smiles of your sweet little cousin, Dona Rosa, their daughter.”

Don Ricardo, I should explain, was our old friend Richard Duffield; and Señor Miguel was Mr Michael Laffan, our tutor.

“She is not my cousin, though we are both half British, and our fathers are old friends. But confess, Juan, that you have another object in going to Egido. You will have no objection either to pay a visit on your way to Dona Dolores Monteverde, and to bask in her sweet smiles,” I rejoined, repeating his words. “However, as Mr Laffan would say, ‘Amicus certus in re incerta, cerniter’ (A true friend is discovered in a doubtful matter), I shall be very glad to accompany you, and be of any service in my power, if I can obtain leave.”

“Thank you, Duncan. Go then and obtain leave, although I thought you were old enough to act as you might think fit in a matter of this sort,” said Juan. “I have a little commission to perform at the other end of the town, and will shortly return for you. You are sure to obtain leave, so I can depend upon having your company.”

Lighting a cigarillo, he rode off down the street. My father was out, so I went to my mother in order to have her sanction, in case Mr Laffan should prove obdurate. Juan was a favourite of hers, as well as of everybody who knew him, so when I told her of his request she made no objection.

“Then I’ll tell Mr Laffan that I have your leave,” I observed.

“And that you have mine too,” exclaimed my young sister Flora; “for I want you to carry a packet to Rosa, and a note with my love, and tell her she must come here soon and stay with us.”

While I ordered my horse, and put on my riding costume, Flora wrote and sealed her note, which I promised faithfully to deliver with the packet she entrusted to my care. On going to Mr Laffan to beg that he would excuse me from my studies for a few hours, he exclaimed, looking out of the window—

“It’s a mighty fine day. Hugh and I will be ready to take a ride with you. I can instruct him in orthography, geography, botany, and the natural sciences, as we go along.”

Hugh was delighted to go, and undertook duly to receive all the instruction our worthy tutor could impart to him on the way. Though my brother was still very young, he was a capital horseman, and would make nothing of riding a dozen leagues or more in a day. I was in doubt, however, whether Juan would be particularly pleased to have Mr Laffan’s company; but such an idea never occurred to our good tutor, who was not inconveniently troubled with bashfulness. I knew, however, that he would be welcomed at the house of Don Ricardo, who esteemed him for his many sterling qualities.

Hugh and Mr Laffan were ready almost as soon as I was, and when Juan returned we were all three mounted in the courtyard, prepared to accompany him.

“I did not know that you were coming, Mr Laffan,” he said, lifting his hat and bowing politely; “but it will afford me great pleasure to have your society.”

Our tutor replied in wonderfully curious Spanish, into which he could not help occasionally introducing a few Irishisms, for the purpose, as he used to say, of adding pepper to his remarks.

Without delay we set off, Juan and I riding together, Mr Laffan and Hugh following; and I saw by our tutor’s gestures, after we got clear of the town, that, faithful to his promise, he was imparting information in his usual impressive manner, which Hugh was endeavouring with all his might to take in.

While we ride along, I will describe the region and the city in which I was born, and some of the principal events which had occurred since my father settled there, up to the present time.

In the western half of New Granada are three ranges of lofty mountains, into which the main branch of the Andes is divided, extending from Quito northwards to the Caribbean Sea; a fourth branch, running close to the shores of the Pacific, extends towards the Isthmus of Panama. These four ranges form three valleys, elevated, however, a considerable distance above the sea. Throughout that to the east runs the magnificent river Magdalena; the next is watered by the Cauca, of equal length; and the third valley by the Atrato, of less extent, which runs into the Gulf of Darien. At the head of the centre valley—that of the Cauca—is situated Popayan, the capital of the province of the same name, in the midst of a beautiful plain, almost surrounded by two streams, which finish their course about a league below it, when they fall into the fine river Cauca. This river then runs to the northward through the rich and charming valley of the Cauca. Nothing can be more delicious than the climate of this region, the inhabitants being never oppressed by excessive heat, or annoyed by extreme cold. Rain, however, falls during the last three months of the year, and also in April and May; but even at that period the mornings are fine, as the showers seldom come on until two or three o’clock in the afternoon, and continue during the night. The plain, or I may call it the wide valley of Popayan, lies between two ranges of lofty mountains. On one side are the Cordilleras, with Purace, eternally covered with snow, rising above them; and on the west side is another range, which separates the valley from the province of Buenaventura. In the midst, surrounded by trees, appears Popayan, with its numerous churches and large convents, distinguished at a considerable distance by their whiteness. It is one of the most ancient towns in that part of the continent. Its founders, companions of Sebastian Belalcazar, made it the capital of the province, establishing a bishopric, a college, and numerous religious institutions. Although its buildings might not be greatly admired in Europe, the inhabitants are proud of them; and justly so, when the difficulties under which they were erected are remembered. Every article used in their construction had to be brought either on the backs of men or mules; and there were few native craftsmen capable of performing the necessary work. Many families proud of their ancient descent were settled in the town, and its society was therefore superior to that of any of the surrounding places. In Popayan is a large square, of which I shall have to speak by-and-by, with the cathedral on one side, and the residences of some of the principal people in the town occupying the other sides. There were, besides, several churches, four convents, and two nunneries. To the north of the city, towards the Cauca, is the handsomest bridge in that part of the country. From the town, in the early part of the morning, when the sun shines on them, can be seen the Cordilleras of Chicquio, and at a less distance rises the Paramos of Puxana and Soltana, presenting a magnificent appearance.

This description may give a faint idea of the beautiful scenery amid which I was born. Although I was accustomed to it from my earliest days, I nevertheless admired it more and more as I grew older. Though my father and Richard Duffield had not intended to settle in America when they married, their wives, who were attached to the country, exerted all their influence to induce them to stay, so they finally made up their minds to abandon their native land. The doctor, having been so long a prisoner, was supposed to be dead, and he had no difficulty in retiring from the service; while the midshipman very easily discharged himself.

At the time I speak of, Liberal principles had been making rapid progress in the country among persons of all ranks. For years the colony had groaned under the tyranny and narrow-minded policy of the mother country. As she produced wine, oil, and silk, the inhabitants of New Granada and Venezuela were not allowed to cultivate either the vine, the olive, or the mulberry, under the idea that they would thus be compelled to consume the produce of Spain. Attempts were made from time to time to establish manufactories, which were invariably destroyed by the orders of the Spanish Government. At length, when Spain herself became enslaved by the French, the colonists took the opportunity of throwing off the galling yoke, and New Granada and Venezuela declared their independence. The Spanish standard was cut down and destroyed, while the tricoloured flag was hoisted in numerous towns and fortresses. The inhabitants of the two vice-royalties flew to arms, and, under the leadership of General Miranda, the Royalists were defeated in Venezuela. No sooner, however, had Spain been liberated by the success of the British arms over Napoleon’s generals in the Peninsula, than she made use of her recovered liberty again to enthral the hapless colonists. Simon Bolivar, who had hitherto taken no active part in the revolution, was at length won over to espouse the cause of Freedom; and a congress having been assembled at Caracas to organise a new Government for the state of Venezuela, he proceeded to England for the purpose of endeavouring to induce the British Cabinet to aid the cause of Liberty. Finding, however, that the English had resolved on maintaining a strict neutrality, though they had ample excuses for interfering in the cause of humanity, he returned in disgust to Caracas.

Sometimes success attended the Patriot arms, sometimes the Royalists were victorious. At length a dreadful earthquake occurred. I remember it well. Fear was inspired by the terrible destruction it caused to life and property. In the three cities of Caracas, La Guayra, and Merida, twenty thousand persons perished. The priests, monks, and friars, who in general were the main supporters of Spanish tyranny, knowing that with the advancement of Liberal principles their power would be decreased, if not overthrown, declared this catastrophe to be a judgment on the revolutionists. About twelve hundred of the Royalist prisoners who were confined in the fortress of Puerto Cabello, of which Bolivar was then commandant, having broken loose, murdered some of the garrison, and by the treachery of the officer on guard took possession of the citadel. Bolivar, with a band of followers, narrowly escaped destruction; and General Miranda, who was at Vittoria, on hearing that this important place, with all its stores, arms, and ammunition, was deserted, capitulated in despair to Monteverde, the Royalist general; and being sent in irons to Spain, he there died—shortly afterwards—in a dungeon.

The whole country was now once more entirely in the hands of the Royalists, who inflicted the most fearful cruelties on the hapless inhabitants. On pretexts the most trivial, old men, women, and children were arrested, their houses plundered, and they themselves maimed in the most horrible way, or massacred as rebels.

I have been speaking chiefly of Venezuela. The Liberals in New Granada suffered similar reverses; but, in consequence of the inaccessible nature of many parts of the country, the Patriots, although defeated, were able to take refuge in positions from which they could not be driven by the Spaniards; and many, under various leaders, remained in arms, prepared for the moment when they might again attack the Royalists with a prospect of success, and drive them, as they had vowed to do, from the country.

The bloodthirsty monster, General Murillo, had at this time his headquarters at Santa Fé de Bogotà, the capital of New Granada. Our own city of Popayan had not altogether escaped, but it was at present comparatively tranquil, though people lived in dread of what a day might bring forth. Murillo was attempting to stamp out Liberal principles by the destruction of every man of science and education in the country, being well aware that ignorance and superstition were the strongest supporters of Spanish tyranny. My father, as a medical man and an English subject, hoped to escape annoyance; though our uncle, Dr Cazalla, owing to his known Liberal principles and scientific attainments, was well aware that his position was critical in the extreme. Though on his guard, he was too bold to fly. My father often urged him to leave the country, but his reply was, “I will remain, to forward, by every means in my power, the cause of liberty, and endeavour to advance the true liberties of the people among whom I live.” My father steadily pursued his professional duties, attending equally on the Royalists and Liberals, by both of whom he was highly esteemed,—though those who knew him best were well aware that his sympathies were all on the side of Freedom.

However, my object is not so much to describe the political events which occurred in the country, as to narrate my own adventures, and those of my relatives and friends. My father had often intended to send my brother and me to England for our education; but my mother was unwilling to part with us, and suggested, instead, that an English tutor should be procured, who would give us the instruction we required. My father remarked that it was not only the knowledge we should obtain by going to England which would prove of value, but the training and general education we should receive at an English school. He had made up his mind to act as he thought best, notwithstanding our mother’s objections, when he was called in to visit an English traveller who had lately arrived at Popayan, accompanied by a secretary—Mr Laffan—for whom he seemed to entertain a warm regard. His malady increased, and my father soon saw that his hours were numbered, and told him so. The dying man acknowledged that his funds were nearly exhausted; that he was waiting remittances from England, but that it might be long before they arrived, if they ever came at all; and he was greatly concerned as to what would become of his attendant, who would thus be left in a foreign country without the means of leaving it, or of obtaining support. My father had not been favourably impressed by the appearance of Mr Laffan, who was tall and gaunt, with awkward manners and ungainly figure; but after some conversation he found him to be a man of considerable attainments and intelligence, and apparently thoroughly honest and trustworthy.

On the death of the unfortunate gentleman, my father found his companion plunged in the deepest grief.

“He was my best friend, sir, the truest I ever had in the world; and now he’s gone and left me all alone among savages, or little better, by the way they murder each other; and we may call them heathens, too, when we see them bow down to stocks and stones.”

My father, feeling for the poor man, inquired whether he would be willing to act as tutor to two boys. On receiving this proposal, Mr Laffan started up and pressed my father’s hand, and while the tears ran down his cheeks, assured him that he would gladly devote his life and energies to the task, hoping that my father would have no cause to regret having entrusted us to his charge.

Having seen his former patron placed in the grave, Mr Laffan took up his abode in our house, and well and faithfully fulfilled the duties he had undertaken—although, it must be confessed, in a somewhat curious fashion—and we soon became as much attached to him, I believe, as he was to us. He gave us not only mental, but physical training; for, in spite of his gaunt figure, he was a first-rate horseman, and thoroughly understood the sword-exercise, a practical knowledge of which he imparted to us. He was a good shot and a keen sportsman; and although he seldom spoke of himself, he had, I discovered, seen a good deal of service, and had honourable wounds to show. He was a devoted Liberal, and detested tyranny in every shape and form. As may be supposed, we admired his principles, which, indeed, were those of our father and uncle, and all the members of our mother’s family.

As I have said, Juan and I rode on, while Mr Laffan and Hugh followed close behind us. Our road lay between lanes bordered by hedges of the prickly pear, and gardens filled with fruit trees of every description; while before us rose the Cordilleras, adding much to the beauty of the scenery. Before we had ridden far, Don Juan confessed to me that, besides paying a promised visit to my friends, his object was to see Dona Dolores.

“She is beautiful and good, and full of sense and spirit, so unlike the greater number of my countrywomen,” he exclaimed; “I believe there is nothing that she would not dare and do.”

“I quite believe all you say of her, Juan,” I answered; though I confess I did not admire the young lady quite as much as my friend did. According to my taste, her manner was somewhat too determined and forward—shall I call it?—although I could not exactly say that she was masculine in her appearance, or wanting in feminine attractions; and I had no doubt that she could be soft and tender on occasion.

“But does Dona Dolores return your love?” I asked.

“I hope so; I have no reason to believe that she dislikes me,” he answered, “though I own that she treats me sometimes as if I were a mere boy. But perseverance conquers all difficulties. My great desire is to convince her of the sincerity of my affection, and that I am worthy of her love.”

“I should think that she would soon be convinced of that,” I observed, looking up at Juan, of whom I thought a great deal; he was a man, I fancied, to whom any girl would willingly give her heart.

“I have determined to visit her to-day, after paying my respects to Don Ricardo and Dona Maria, and to learn my fate. Will you accompany me, Duncan? I dare say that, if I give you a sign, you will find an excuse for leaving us together while I plead my cause.”

I, of course, said that I was perfectly ready to do as Juan wished, although I did not think my presence would be necessary.

We had got more than half-way to Egido, when we overtook a large party of Indians returning from Popayan to their own village. At their head marched one of their number playing the tabor and pipes, to which they kept admirable time. The men were a remarkably fine-looking set of fellows; and the women were handsome, with good figures. The former, who carried long lances, wore kilts, and on their heads blue cloth caps trimmed with scarlet, ornamented with gold lace somewhat the worse for wear. Their bearing, also, was bold and independent. They saluted Don Juan in a familiar way, and he laughed and joked with them as we passed by.

“These men would make good soldiers, if they could be got to join the Liberal cause,” observed Mr Laffan.

“But you’ll not get them while they live under the influence of their priests,” answered Juan. “The friars try to persuade the people that the Liberals are in league with Satan, and that if they join them they will do so at the peril of their souls. They eyed you three very suspiciously,” he continued; “for the friars tell them that all Englishmen have tails, like monkeys, and horns on their heads, and that they are addicted to eating babies when they can get a supply.”

“You should try and disabuse them of such notions, Don Juan,” said Mr Laffan.

“I!—it is no business of mine. I let the people think as they like—it does no harm.”

“It always does harm to allow people to believe a falsehood, and we should oppose it with truth,” observed Mr Laffan.

Don Juan laughed, and commenced trolling forth a jovial song as we rode along, as if he did not like to be lectured by our tutor.

On arriving at the hacienda, we found that Don Ricardo was out; but Dona Maria received us very kindly, and servants immediately came forward to take charge of our horses. My little cousin Rosa, as we always called her, received me with smiles as I delivered Flora’s package, and gave her the message she had sent. She was a beautiful blue-eyed girl, with a rich colour, inheriting the naturally fair complexion of her father, with her mother’s beauty; for Dona Maria was one of the prettiest of the young people in that part of the country—still looking almost like a girl. Without inquiring whether we would have them, she immediately ordered the usual refreshments, wine, cake, and fruit, with some cups of coffee, to be placed on the table; to which, after our ride, we did ample justice. Mr Laffan complimented Dona Maria on the fruits produced on the estate. Indeed, when I afterwards left my native valley, I learned to appreciate them, by comparison with the productions of other regions. Nothing, indeed, can surpass the flavour of the chirimoya, a fruit sometimes double the size of a cocoa-nut, tasting like a mixture of strawberries, cream, and sugar, with a fragrance far superior to any mixture. Then the caymato (in shape like a lemon, but far sweeter, with scarcely a touch of the acidity of the lemon), a species of lime, and the pomegranates, oranges, and strawberries, one of which was a mouthful, and figs unsurpassed in any other country. Then there was the mamei, a fruit as large as a water-melon, very nice, fresh, and not to be despised when preserved. Then there were several sorts of pine apples, and a variety of melons. Indeed, the climate of this region is especially favourable to the production of fruit, as the thermometer seldom falls below 68 degrees, and never rises much above 76 degrees. Then the wine and the lemonade were delightfully cooled by ice; an ample supply of snow being constantly brought down from the mountain of Purace, distant little more than a day’s journey.

In a short time Don Ricardo came in, and welcomed us in a hearty, sailor-like fashion. He still retained his nautical manners and appearance, as well as his seamanlike habits. He was broad-shouldered, of moderate height, with a fine brow and an open countenance, and the light blue eye of the Anglo-Saxon. We always called him Uncle Richard, and he treated us as his nephews.

“You’ll stop, now you have come,” he said, shaking us all by the hand; “I’ve been looking for you for many a day. We must have some hunting and shooting. I will send over and let your father know that I have laid an embargo on you, so that he must not expect you until you appear. You can study as hard as you like in the evening, or whenever we are in the house, and Mr Laffan will give you lectures on natural history while we are on our excursions. Juan, mio amigo, you must remain also; we have plenty of room, and can hang up a dozen hammocks, or fifty for that matter; I have hooks provided on purpose in the hall.”

Juan did not even make a show of refusing, for fear that the invitation might not be pressed. I suspect that Uncle Richard was well aware of his admiration for Dona Dolores, who was a distant cousin of Dona Maria’s. She was an only daughter, and heiress of a fair estate close to Egido.

Mr Laffan making no objection, Don Ricardo despatched a messenger, as he had promised, to our father, and we remained with clear consciences.

The house itself, I may here say, was a long low building, of two stories only in one portion, round which ran a broad verandah. It possessed no pretensions to architectural beauty, but was very neat and comfortable inside, and even elegant on the garden front.

Before dinner Don Ricardo took us out to see the gardens and farm. In the former, the fruits I have already described were growing in profusion, besides vegetables of all sorts. In one direction spread out fields of Indian corn of luxuriant growth. In the meadows were cattle and sheep with beautiful white fleeces and long tails, while numbers of horses were seen galloping about at liberty.

“I sincerely hope the Spaniards will not pay a visit to this place,” observed Mr Laffan to me, as Uncle Richard and Juan were walking on ahead; “they would soon make a clean sweep of these cattle and the corn-fields.”

This estate was only one of many others of a similar character scattered over the country, but probably Egido benefited by the energy and perseverance of its owner. My father used to remark, that Dona Maria was twice as rich as she would have been had she married a countryman with an estate double the size of her own. The people also were well looked after, having nice cottages, well thatched, and kept clean and tidy. Uncle Richard’s plan was to go about giving prizes to those who had the best-kept huts. He had a school for the children, too, where they were taught to read the Bible, notwithstanding the objection at first raised by the parish priest—who was, however, at length induced to read it himself. He one day came to Uncle Richard and acknowledged it to be the best book for all who could read. Although the honest padre at first sided with the oppressors of his country, he now became an earnest Liberal, but avoided taking any open part in politics, and confined himself to instructing the people. Uncle Richard was no theologian, and had never had an argument in his life with Padre Vincente. His custom was simply to open the Bible and point to certain parts, and say, “Read that; if this book was written by God’s command—and I am sure it was—that’s what he says, not I.” Padre Vincente might not have called himself a Protestant, but he certainly preached the gospel, and the people under his charge were the best conducted and happiest in the neighbourhood.

On our return to the house, we found dinner ready. Dona Maria, during our absence, had been busy superintending its preparation; and if the table did not groan with delicacies, the feast was as good a one as we could have desired to eat. Mr Laffan, Hugh, and I showed, at all events, that we enjoyed it, though Juan was unusually silent, and ate but little. There was something on his mind, which came out after dinner.

“Duncan,” he said, “I want you and Señor Laffan to assist me in giving Dona Dolores a serenade, as soon as the shades of evening come on. You sing, and he plays the guitar. I understand that Dona Dolores is fond of music, although she tells me that I trifle away my time by practising it.”

Uncle Richard laughed when Juan told him what he was going to do. “If I were a bachelor I would accompany you, although such kind of singing as yours is somewhat out of my way. I don’t think, however, that the young lady would be charmed by ‘Cease, rude Boreas,’ ‘One night it blew a hurricane,’ ‘On board of the Arethusa,’ or such other songs as I used to sing afloat.”

We had no difficulty in procuring a couple of guitars. Juan took one, Mr Laffan the other, and as soon as it began to grow dark we set out. We soon approached the front of Dona Dolores’ residence. It was a two-storied building, with a balcony on one side overhanging the road some little way from the entrance-gate.

Juan and I were walking together, Mr Laffan bringing up the rear, when suddenly the former stopped and grasped my arm. “I see some one on the balcony,” he whispered. “It must be she—how fortunate! She would consider it rude to go away when once we begin; let us lose no time.”

We cautiously approached.

“Suppose it is only her old duenna, Señora Ortes!”

“Nonsense!” answered Juan. “I can discern the outline of her figure; no other form can possess such grace.”

I thought that Juan’s imagination assisted him in this respect, as I could only just distinguish that a female was seated on the balcony. As we drew near, however, I began to suspect that it was Dona Dolores herself, but her head at the time was turned away, as if addressing some one.

Stepping softly, so that we might not be discovered until we at once burst into song, we approached the house. Juan led the way; I kept close under the wall, having no guitar; while Mr Laffan stood at a little distance. Juan gave the signal, and we commenced the song. It was in praise of a lady resembling Dona Dolores in all particulars, and the love and devotion of one whose affection she had won, but appeared to regard with disdain.

Dona Dolores—for it was she—leaned her head on her hand as she listened to the music, which was such as to attract any female ear. I will not speak of my own powers; but Juan’s voice was full and rich—indeed, he was one of the best singers I ever heard; and Mr Laffan did his part on the guitar.

We had continued for some time, when Dona Dolores leaned forward and said, “I will not pretend to be ignorant as to who you are. You desire to speak with me; and I am willing to see you. You are welcome to come in, with your young friend, whose voice I recognise.”

Don Juan poured out his thanks, and expressed his readiness to take advantage of the permission given him.

Dona Dolores had said nothing of Mr Laffan; perhaps she had not perceived him, or in the dark had mistaken him for me, as I had been concealed under the wall—although our figures were very different. At all events, it was very evident that he would be one too many. Of this he was perfectly well aware himself, and as we went round to the front entrance he whispered,—“I’ll go back and tell Don Ricardo that you have the honour of an interview, and will soon return;” and without another word he hastened along the road.

We made our way to the front gate, which was opened as we arrived by Señora Ortes, who had been directed by her mistress to let us in.

“Dona Dolores awaits you in her sitting-room,” she said; “you are welcome.”

She led the way into the house. We found Dona Dolores with a female friend, somewhat older, seated in a well-furnished room, with a couple of guitars on a sofa beside them. Some books were on a table, very seldom to be seen in a lady’s apartment in that country; while one of the walls was ornamented with swords and daggers, guns and pistols—giving a somewhat odd appearance to a lady’s boudoir.

Dona Dolores looked handsomer than ever, and I could not be surprised that she had won my friend’s heart. She smiled as we approached and saluted her. Don Juan having told her where we were staying, and a little ordinary conversation having taken place, they both looked, I thought, as if they wished that the other lady and I were at a distance. We, at all events, supposing such to be the case, retired to the other end of the room, to examine some artificial flowers, which the young lady told me she had learned to make at the nunnery of the Encarnacion at Popayan. She then confided to me that she had once intended to be a nun, but, after a little experience of a conventual existence before she had taken the vows, thought better of it, and had returned to her friends; adding, “And perhaps some day I may accept a husband, should a suitable one be presented to me.”

While we were speaking, she saw my eye directed towards the arms on the walls.

“They are all in good order, and intended to be used,” she observed. “My friend thinks it a good place to keep them in, as no one would imagine that they were placed there otherwise than for ornament. The time may come, however, and that before long, when they may do good service to our country.”

Although my companion continued to speak, as if to engage my attention, I could not help hearing the conversation that was going on between Don Juan and Dona Dolores. In ardent tones he declared his love and devotion, and vowed that his happiness in life depended on her becoming his wife.

“I will not deny, Don Juan, that I return the love you bestow on me; but this arises from the weakness of my woman’s nature. Notwithstanding this, I tell you that nothing shall induce me to marry a man who is not ready to sacrifice his life and property to obtain the enfranchisement of our beloved country from the tyrannical yoke of her oppressors. You have hitherto led an indolent life, regardless of the sufferings of our people. Not until I see you boldly come forward and nobly devote yourself to the cause of freedom, will I promise to become your wife. When that freedom has been won, and the Spaniards, the hated Godos, have been driven into the sea—”

“But that may not be for many years, my beloved Dolores!” exclaimed Don Juan; “am I to wait so long before I enjoy the unspeakable happiness of calling you mine?”

“If you and other young men of wealth and position in the country, who ought to set the example to other classes, hang back, that glorious object may never be accomplished, and I shall die a maiden; for I swear to you I will never wed while our country remains enslaved,” exclaimed Dona Dolores in a firm tone.

My companion’s tongue here went rattling on at such a rate, that I did not hear what more was said for some time; but it was evident that Dona Dolores was expatiating on the duty of all patriots to struggle on, in spite of every difficulty, until the power of the Spaniards was overthrown.

At length Don Juan exclaimed,—“Your arguments have prevailed, Dona Dolores: from henceforth I will emerge from the useless life I have hitherto led, and will devote my life to the cause of Freedom. You shall have no reason to complain of your pupil. I trust that you will hear of such deeds as you would have me do; and you may be sure that I shall ever be found in the van of the battle, when the foe are to be encountered. Your approval, and the reward I look for, will spur me on to acts of valour.”

As he spoke I looked round. Dona Dolores had given him her hand, which he was pressing to his lips; and I heard her say,—“I will trust you, Juan; and you may rest assured that I will not depart from my promise.”

As my companion had no longer any excuse for remaining where we were, she returned to the side of her friend. Dona Dolores had taken up her guitar, and running her fingers over the strings, sang a few verses of a patriotic song, which greatly affected Juan, and at the same time roused in my heart a desire to take a part in the struggle for freedom in which all classes throughout the country were eager to engage. It was well-known that, when once it began, it would be to the knife, as the Spanish generals showed no mercy to those who fell into their power—neither sex, rank, nor age were spared. As we spoke of the atrocities which had been committed, the eyes of Dona Dolores flashed fire. She pressed her lips together, and looked towards the wall on which the weapons hung.

“Every man and youth—ay, every woman who has a spark of patriotism—must take a part in the glorious work!” she exclaimed. Rising from her seat, she took a sword from the wall. “Here, my Juan, let me gird you with this weapon; and when once you draw it, swear that it shall never again be sheathed until the standard of Liberty waves throughout the length and breadth of the land, and every Spaniard is hurled into the ocean which bore him to our shores.”

Don Juan, kissing the jewelled hilt of the weapon, swore as Dolores wished, and with a triumphant smile she buckled it to his waist.

My enthusiasm being aroused, I dare say I too looked as if I wished to be presented with a sword.

“You must wait a while,” observed Dona Dolores, divining my thoughts; “you are not yet your own master, and I would not compromise your excellent father.”

The remark showed that the speaker possessed good sense and judgment as well as patriotism.

At last I reminded Juan that Don Ricardo would be expecting us, and we took our leave of the two ladies—my admiration for Dona Dolores greatly increased by the visit we had paid her.

I expected that Juan would break out enthusiastically in her praise, but he did not utter a word during our walk home; his thoughts were evidently occupied by the new duties he had undertaken. He had hitherto passed his time in superintending his mother’s estate, or enjoying such amusements as offered. He would now have to lead a life full of dangers and hardships.

“I congratulate you on finding Dona Dolores at home,” observed Uncle Richard when we arrived.

“Yes, we had that honour,” said Juan, endeavouring to hide the sword which he had received—he had given me his to carry. I observed that he placed it carefully against the wall, and covered it with his cloak.

Supper was now announced, but Juan spoke very little during the meal. Mr Laffan, however, conversed for all the party; rattling away, as he could do when he had had a glass or two of good wine to raise his spirits, and listening, apparently with rapt attention, to Uncle Richard’s sea stories and jokes, though he had heard them fifty times before. Dona Maria, too, spoke English very fairly, having learned it from her husband; and Juan could understand what was said, though he was bashful about speaking.

We retired at an early hour to our hammocks, as we were to start betimes the next morning, on our expedition.

Chapter Three.

A shooting expedition—Snaring parroquets—The dominie and the tiger-cat—A deer shot—The dominie proves that he is a man of courage—Blow-pipes and poisoned arrows—A jaguar hunt—Stories about jaguars—A fearful thunderstorm—The stricken tree—Reach home—A discussion on Liberty—Set out on a second expedition—Reach a hot spring—Visit to an old Cacique—The last of his race—Promises to aid the Patriot cause—Vinegar river—The dominie tastes the water—Uncle Richard’s farm—Return homewards—Paul Lobo meets us with bad news—Our night-ride to Popayan—Dona Dolores enlists the dominie—We reach Popayan—Arrangements made for the safety of our family—The dominie and I remain with my father.

I was in doubt whether Juan would accompany us. When I asked him, he replied that he wished to have some conversation with Don Ricardo, and that he should have an opportunity of speaking to him as we rode along. Leaving our own horses in the stable, we were supplied instead with active little mules, better calculated for climbing up and sliding down the steep declivities. We had a dozen couples of dogs, not quite as large as greyhounds, but of the same species.

“They will run down any of the wild animals found in these forests, as well as the danta, or wild ass—the black bear, red leopard, tiger-cat, the deer, and fox; though it is necessary to follow them closely, since, not being well broken-in, they will devour their prey, if they have an opportunity, before the hunter comes up,” observed Uncle Richard, as we were about to start, our canine companions barking and yelping round us.

We had not gone far when we saw an Indian in a large field of maize near the road, engaged in snaring the red-headed, green parroquets, which are here very numerous, and do much mischief to the crops of corn. The snares are very simple, being composed of a line of horse-hair, a slip-knot, and a loop, in the centre of which a little maize is sprinkled as a bait. As soon as the bird pitches on the grain, the Indian draws the line with a sudden jerk, and catches the bird by the legs. Just as we arrived he had caught one, which Hugh cried out he should like to have. On this the man brought it to him; but the bird fought so vigorously to obtain its liberty, and gave Hugh so severe a bite on the finger, that he was glad to let it go.

We had dismounted in order to enjoy a draught of water from a fountain which bubbled out of the hill-side, and to pluck some oranges from a grove irrigated by it. Mr Laffan had gone to a little distance, and we saw him stretching up to reach some fruit from a bough overhead, when he uttered a cry, or rather a howl to which an Irishman alone can give vent; and his foot slipping on a root which projected above the soil, down he came stretched at full length. But he was not inclined to lie long on the ground; and springing up, off he scampered. At the same instant a tiger-cat leaped out of the tree; while a covey of partridges, which had been nestling in the grass close by, rose with a loud “wurr,” still further alarming the dominie.

“Get your guns! get your guns!” he shouted. “There’s a huge tiger, or a jaguar, or a beast of some sort, close at our heels; he’ll be after seizing some of us, if we are not on our guard.”

As he spoke we saw the tiger-cat, quite as much frightened as Mr Laffan, scampering off in the opposite direction; and a hearty laugh, in which we all indulged, assured our friend that no danger was to be apprehended. Before we could get our guns ready, both partridges and tiger-cat had disappeared.

The air was pure and invigorating, and the scenery, made up of forests, mountains, and streams, was magnificent.

At length the dogs found a deer, to which, as it started off along the side of the hill, we all gave chase. Over fallen logs, gullies, and streams we galloped, finding it no easy matter to keep up with our nimble four-footed companions. Juan was the most active among us; holding his rifle in his hand ready for a shot, he at length got ahead. I saw him lift his weapon and fire, and as he did so the deer leaped several feet in the air and fell over dead. We soon had it flayed and cut up, when it was placed on the back of one of the mules brought for the purpose.

Several other deer were started, and I had the satisfaction of killing one with my own rifle; but Juan was the most successful.

The dominie, although he did not at first quite recover his nerve, had before long an opportunity of displaying his skill and courage. The dogs, which were ahead, were heard barking loudly.

“That’s not deer,” observed Uncle Richard; “it must be some savage animal at bay.”

We were hurrying forward—having, I should have said, dismounted from our mules—the dominie on this occasion leading, when, with a loud roar, a huge jaguar leaped from its covert, scattering the dogs on either side, and making directly toward us. Mr Laffan, dropping on his knee, and holding his rifle like an infantry soldier about to receive a charge of cavalry, waited until the jaguar was within twelve yards of him, when he fired. The creature bounded on, and I trembled for our friend’s safety; but in an instant, rising, he sprang on one side, and drawing his hunting-knife he struck it into the shoulder of the savage animal, right up to the hilt, when the jaguar rolled over with one convulsive struggle and was dead.

We all congratulated the dominie on his skill and coolness.

“I’m not in the habit of howling when I see a beast, but I was just now thinking to pick an orange, when the tiger-cat sprang at my throat. Faith! it was a little more than I bargained for,” he answered, laughing.

“It is certainly what any of us would have done; though few would have met a jaguar with the same coolness as you have exhibited,” observed Uncle Richard.

We arrived at length at a neatly-thatched cottage near a hacienda, belonging to a farmer who employed Indians chiefly in the cultivation of his fields. He was absent, but an old Indian who had charge of the house begged us to enter and consider it as our own. As the sun was high and the heat increasing, we were glad to find shelter beneath its roof. Here we spread the viands which had been brought in a pannier on the back of one of the mules.

Several of the Indians possessed blow-pipes, from which they projected arrows not more than eight inches in length; and with these we saw them bring down a number of parroquets and other birds in rapid succession. Scarcely had a bird been touched than, after fluttering for a few moments, it fell dead. The arrows, we found, were poisoned; and the Indians told us that the poison was produced from the moisture which exudes from the back of a small green frog. They declared that, to obtain it, the frog was put near a fire, and in the moisture which quickly appeared on its back they dipped the tips of their arrows. So speedy is the poison, that even a jaguar or puma which has received the slightest wound soon becomes convulsed and dies. Instead of feathers, a little cotton is wrapped neatly round the lower end of the arrow, to make it go steadily through the air: and at about an inch from the point it is spiral.

The major-domo told us that the farm, being at a distance from others, was frequently attacked by jaguars, which carried off pigs, calves, and sometimes even mules, although horses and the larger animals were generally too wary for them. He took us to a remote spot, to show us a trap which had been set for catching the jaguars. It was in a small circular plot of ground, enclosed with strong stakes of considerable height, to prevent the entrapped jaguar from breaking through or leaping over. A doorway is left for the jaguar to enter. Above this is suspended a large plank of wood communicating with one on the ground, over which the jaguar on entering must tread, and it is so contrived that as he does so the portcullis falls and shuts him in. A live pig is fastened by a rope in the centre of the enclosure as a bait. An Indian is always on the watch at night in a tree near the spot, and the moment the jaguar is caught he gives the alarm, and his companions assemble and despatch it with firearms and lances. Previous to our visit, a male and female jaguar had been caught together, but before the labourers could assemble they had almost eaten up the poor pig.

As we had already as much venison as we could carry, we agreed that we should like to go out with the old Indian factor, Quamodo, and hunt jaguars under his guidance, with as many of his people as he could collect. By the time luncheon was over, therefore, he had provided a party of Indians, armed with long lances, and a number of sturdy-looking dogs very unlike our own high-bred animals—which, being unfit for the purpose, were left behind under the charge of their keepers.

We proceeded some distance through the forest, the dogs advancing in regular order like riflemen skirmishing, so that there was no chance of a jaguar being passed without their discovering him. After keeping on for about a couple of miles, the dogs stopped and began to bay loudly; whereupon the old Indian told us to halt, with our arms ready for action, while the lance-men moved forward. The dogs, encouraged by their masters’ voices, continued to advance; and we soon caught sight of a jaguar thirty yards in front of us, seated on his haunches, prepared for fight. Several of the more daring dogs now sprang forward, but two paid dearly for their boldness; for the jaguar striking them with his huge paw, they soon lay dead at his feet. The Indians now allowed the dogs to attack the jaguar. Taught wisdom by the fate of their companions, however, they assaulted him in the rear, rushing in on his haunches, biting him, and then retiring. This continued for some time. Although the jaguar saw the men, he had first to settle with his canine enemies; and the efforts he made to keep them at a distance apparently considerably exhausted him. The Indians then shouted and threw sticks towards him, in order to irritate him and make him spring upon them; and having got up to within twenty yards of him, they next presented their lances in such a position that, when he might spring, they would receive him on the points. Suddenly he began to move; then he sprang, moving in a semicircular line, like a cat and uttering a tremendous roar. The lance-men kept their bodies bent, grasping their lances with both hands, while one end rested on the ground. I thought that the jaguar would have killed the man at whom he sprung, but the Indian was strong of nerve as well as of limb, and the point of his lance entered the jaguar’s chest, when the others immediately rushed forward and despatched the savage brute with their weapons.

Old Quamodo told us how it sometimes happens that a hunter unfortunately fails to receive the jaguar on his lance; and in many instances he is torn to pieces before he can be assisted. His only resource on such an occasion is his manchette, or long knife,—by means of which, if he can stab the jaguar, he may possibly escape. Quamodo also narrated how, upon one occasion in his youth, when he was very fond of jaguar hunting, he only slightly wounded an animal with his lance, and the jaguar, closing with him, knocked him down with his paw. Keeping his presence of mind, however, he drew his long knife with one hand, while he seized the throat of the jaguar with the other. A desperate struggle ensued, and he received several severe wounds from the claws and teeth of the creature. As he rolled over and over he made good use of his knife, stabbing his antagonist until the jaguar sank down dead from loss of blood. He managed to crawl home, and recovered. He declared that as soon as he was well again he went out hunting, and killed a couple of jaguars, in revenge for the injuries he had received.

On another occasion, while out hunting, he fell asleep on a bank, exhausted by fatigue. Suddenly he was awakened by a tremendous blow on the side of the head. His natural impulse was to start up and shout lustily, when he saw a huge jaguar standing close to him, about to repeat the salute. His cries were heard by his companions, who were at a short distance, and they hastened to his assistance. The jaguar, however, was probably not very hungry, for before he could use his manchette, or his friends come up, the creature bounded off, leaving the hunter with the top of his ear torn away, and an ugly scratch on his head. Still the old Indian was of opinion that the jaguar seldom attacks human beings unless first molested by them.

We encountered and killed another animal, much in the same way as the first; and having secured their skins, we returned to the farm, and afterwards set off on our way home. As we emerged from the forest we saw that clouds of inky blackness were collecting rapidly overhead, and spreading across the whole valley.

“We must push forward, for we are about to have a storm, and no slight one,” observed Uncle Richard. “Fast as we may go, however, we shall not escape the whole of it.”

Scarcely had he spoken when a flash of the most vivid lightning darted from the sky, wriggling along the ground like a huge snake.

“It’s well that we are in the open country; but even here we may be overtaken by one of those flashes—though Heaven grant that they may pass us by,” said Uncle Richard.

The flashes were succeeded by the most tremendous roars of thunder, as if the whole artillery of heaven were being discharged at once. The animals we rode stopped and trembled, and when urged by the spur dashed forward as if running a race for their lives; indeed, it was no easy matter to sit them, as they sprang now on one side, now on the other. In a short time the rain came down in torrents, every drop, as the dominie declared, “as big as a hen’s egg.” As a natural consequence, in a few seconds we were wet to the skin, though that mattered but little.

While we were passing a lofty and magnificent tree, about fifty yards off, a flash darted from the sky, and a fearful crash was heard. The next instant the tree was gone, shivered to the very roots, while the fragments of its branches and trunk strewed the ground around. No shelter was at hand; indeed, unless to escape the rain, it would have been useless, for the strongest building would not have secured us from the effects of such a flash. Our great object was to keep away from any trees which might attract the lightning.

The storm was still raging when we arrived at home, where we found Dona Maria and Rosa in no small alarm about us,—thinking more of our safety than their own. They had closed all the windows and doors—as they said, to keep the lightning out; although in reality it only prevented them from seeing the bright flashes. The trembling mules were sent round to the stables; while Uncle Richard produced various articles from his wardrobe with which to clothe us.

The ladies laughed heartily as we made our appearance at the supper-table. Hugh was dressed with one of Rosa’s petticoats over his shoulders, which she declared gave him a very Oriental look. The dominie had on a flowered dressing-gown of Uncle Richard’s, with a pair of loose drawers, and a sash round his waist. Juan wore a red shirt, a sky-blue dress coat, and a pair of shooting breeches; while I was rigged out in an entire suit belonging to our host, a world too wide, and much too short.

The storm had by this time ceased, though the thunder, as it rolled away down the valley, was occasionally heard.

The ladies were amused by the account of our adventures, especially on hearing of the alarm of Mr Laffan at the unexpected appearance of the tiger-cat Uncle Richard having proposed music, Dona Maria and Rosa got their guitars and sang very sweetly.

“Now let us have a dance,” cried our host, jumping up; “old Pépé plays the fiddle, and we have another fellow who is an adept with the pipes.”

The persons named were sent for. The first was a grey-headed old man, half Spaniard, half Indian; the latter a young man, a pure-blooded Indian. The merry strains they struck up inspired us all; even the dominie rose and began to snap his fingers and kick his heels. Don Ricardo setting the example, we were soon all engaged in an uproarious country dance; while every now and then we burst into laughter, as we looked at each other, and criticised our costumes.

Pretty well tired out, we soon turned into our hammocks, Uncle Richard having proposed another excursion on the following day.

On getting up in the morning, we found all the females of the family already on foot, busily engaged in various household duties. Dona Maria, habited in a somewhat dégagé costume, was superintending the baking of Indian corn bread, which was done in the most primitive fashion. Some of the girls were pounding the grain in huge mortars with pestles, which it required a strong pair of arms to use; others were kneading large masses of the flour in pans, which were then formed into flat cakes, and placed on a copper “girdle” with a charcoal fire beneath, where they were quickly baked. They gave us some of the cakes to stay our appetites, just hot from the “girdle,” and most delicious they were.

Having taken a turn round the fields, where the labourers were assembling to commence work, we returned to an early breakfast. As Mr Laffan had seen but little of the country, Uncle Richard proposed that we should visit some interesting places in the neighbourhood. Juan excused himself; he very naturally wished to pay his respects to Dona Dolores, and soon afterwards rode off.

“He is desperately in love, there’s no doubt about that,” remarked Dona Maria. “Dolores will make much of him, for she is equally attached to him, though she will not acknowledge it. She is a fine spirited girl—a devoted Patriot. She converted her father, who was rather disposed to side with the Godos for the sake of a quiet life; but she roused him up, and he is now as warm in the cause of liberty as she is.”

“Are you not a Patriot, Aunt Maria?” I asked.

“I side with my husband, and he is an Englishman.”

“But Englishmen love liberty and hate tyranny, if they are worthy of the name of Britons,” I answered; “and I hope we shall all be ready, when the time comes, to fight for freedom.”

“But we may lose our property and our lives, if the Spaniards prevail,” she remarked.

“They must not prevail; we must conquer!” exclaimed Uncle Richard, who just then came in.

“Has Dona Dolores won you over?” asked Dona Maria of her husband.

“She is a noble creature, and sees things in their true light,” answered Uncle Richard. “While the Spaniards have the upper hand, through keeping the people in subjection by their soldiers, and their minds in darkness and superstition through the teaching of the priests, our country can never flourish. All progress is stopped. Our agriculture is stunted, our commerce crippled, and no manufactures can exist.”

“That’s just what Dona Dolores says,” observed Aunt Maria.

“And she says the truth,” answered Uncle Richard. “I for one am resolved to aid the Patriot cause; and you, my dear wife, will acknowledge that I am acting rightly. You cannot wish to see our children slaves; and what else can they be, if, for fear of the consequences, we tamely submit to the yoke of Spain?”

I remembered this conversation in after-days, when Uncle Richard showed how fully he kept up to the principles he professed, and Dona Maria proved herself to be a true and faithful wife.

After Uncle Richard had transacted some business, we set off on our expedition, mounted on mules, for the road we had to traverse was rough and uneven in the extreme. We had several small rivers to cross, which, in consequence of the storm of the preceding day, had become torrents, and almost carried our mules off their legs. The beds of the streams, too, were full of large stones, which had fallen down from the mountains. In these torrents swimming is of no avail, as the water rushes on with irresistible force, carrying everything before it. Sometimes in the descent of the hills the mules sat on their haunches, gliding down with their fore-feet stretched out in the most scientific fashion.

At length, sliding down a steep descent, we arrived at the hot spring, which issues from an aperture about three feet in diameter, at the bottom of the valley—the water bubbling up very much like that in a boiling pot. Around the brink of the aperture is an incrustation of brimstone, of a light colour, from which we broke off several pieces and carried them away. The dominie put in his finger to test the heat of the water, but drew it out again pretty quickly.

“You will not find me doing that a second time!” he exclaimed, as he put his scalded finger into his mouth to cool it.

We had brought some eggs, which were boiled hard in little more than three minutes.

Mr Laffan having carried away some of the water, afterwards analysed it, and found it to be composed of sulphur and salt. On being exposed to the sun, the sulphur evaporated, and left pure white salt fit for use.

After leaving the spring, we continued some way further towards the Rio Vinaigre, or Vinegar River. On our road we passed several Indian huts perched on the summits of precipices which appeared perfectly inaccessible; but, of course, there were narrow paths by which the inhabitants could climb up to their abodes. They naturally delight in these gloomy and solitary situations, and had sufficient reasons for selecting them: for they were here free from the attacks of wild beasts or serpents, and also from their cruel masters the Spaniards, who were accustomed to drag them away to work in the mines, to build fortifications, or to serve in the ranks of their armies.

Dismounting, we climbed up a zig-zag path, to pay a visit to one of these Indian abodes which was less difficult to reach than the rest, although a couple of well-armed men, supplied with a store of rocks, could from the summit have kept a whole army at bay. The hut was the abode of an old Indian, the descendant of the chief of a once powerful tribe. We found him leaning against the sunny side of his house, and holding on to a long staff with which he supported himself. He was dressed in a large broad-brimmed hat, a poncho over his shoulders, and sandals on his feet. His projecting, dropping lower jaw exhibited the few decayed teeth he had in his head, which, with his lustreless eyes, made him look the very picture of decrepitude. He brightened up and rose, however, as he saw Uncle Richard,—with whom he was acquainted, and who had frequently shown him kindness,—and welcomed us to his abode.

The thatched hut was diminutive, and full of smoke, as there was but one small hole in the roof by which it could escape. Some distance behind it, and separated by a wide chasm, over which a bamboo bridge had been thrown, was a wide level space, with mountains rising above it, on which sheep and goats were feeding—the fields fenced round by a shrub called el lechero, or milk-tree, which derives its name from a white liquid oozing out of it when a branch is broken off. This liquid, however, is sharp and caustic. The sticks, about six feet in height, throw out young shoots like the osier, and when pruned become very thick, and form an excellent fence. Within the enclosure were growing patches of wheat, potatoes, and Indian corn, as also the yuca root, from the flour of which palatable cakes are formed. This mountain plantation was cultivated, the old man told us, by the faithful followers of his tribe. He had no children; he was the last of his race.

Uncle Richard had an object in paying the visit. The old Indian had considerable influence over the inhabitants of the surrounding hills, and he wished to stir them up, when the time should come, to join the Patriot ranks.

“I am too old myself to strike a blow for liberty,” said the old man; “but often, as I gaze over yonder wide valley, and remember that once it belonged to my ancestors, that by the cruelty and oppression of the Godos my people are now reduced to a handful, and that the sufferings and death of thousands of my people rest on the heads of our oppressors, my heart swells with indignation. Si, Señor Ricardo, si. You may depend on me that I will use all the influence I possess to arouse my people, but I fear that we shall be able to send scarce fifty warriors into the field—many of them mere youths, although they have the hearts of men.”

After some further conversation, Uncle Richard left a present with the old cacique, and we bade him farewell.

On reaching the foot of the cliff we met several Indians, who, having observed us from neighbouring heights, had come down to ascertain the object of our visit. Uncle Richard spoke to them, although not so openly as he had done to the chief. The men had a peculiarly serious cast of countenance; not one of them smiled while with us, but they appeared good-tempered, and were perfectly civil. Their eyes were large, fine, and full of expression; and two or three girls who were of the party were decidedly good-looking, which is more than can be said of Indian maidens in general. Each man was accompanied by a dog, of which he seemed very fond. Round their huts we saw abundance of fruit, and several fat pigs, so that they were evidently well off for provisions.

It is wonderful how long these Indians will go without food by chewing coca leaf, which is far more sustaining and refreshing than tobacco.

“Those men would make sturdy soldiers, and fight bravely,” observed Uncle Richard, as we rode away.

Our destination was a small valley, through which the Rio Vinaigre makes its way towards the Cauca. We left our animals at the top of the hill, as the descent was so steep and slippery that it would have been impossible to ride down it. As it was, we could scarcely keep our legs, and the dominie more than once nearly fell head over heels.

Uncle Richard, by-the-by, had not told our worthy friend the character of the river-water. He had brought a cup, formed from a gourd, which answered the purpose of a “quaich,” as it is called in Scotland; and we made our way down to the edge of the stream, where he could dip out a cupful. The water appeared bright and sparkling, and the dominie, who was thirsty after his walk, put it to his lips and took a huge gulp. Directly afterwards he spat it out, with a ridiculous grimace, exclaiming—

“Rotten lemons, iron filings, and saltpetre, by all that is abominable! Ah, faith! there must have been poison in the cup.”

“Wash it out and try again,” said Uncle Richard; “although, I tell you, I believe the cup is perfectly clean.”

The dominie made a second attempt, with the same result.

“You find it taste somewhat like vinegar?” asked Uncle Richard.

“Indeed I do,” answered Mr Laffan. “Is it always like this?”

“Yes,” said Uncle Richard; “it comes in its present state out of the mountain, and you were not far from the truth in your description, as when analysed it is found to be acidulated, nitrous, and ferruginous. So completely does it retain these qualities, that in the Cauca, several leagues below where it falls into that river, not a fish is to be found, as the finny tribe appear to have as great a dislike to it as yourself.”

The dominie, to satisfy himself, carried away half a bottle, for the purpose of analysing it on his return home.

Proceeding up the valley, we visited, in succession, three waterfalls, one of which came down over a perpendicular cliff, with a descent of a couple of hundred feet. We then bent our steps homewards, stopping by the way to dine and rest our animals at a farm belonging to Uncle Richard, and which it was one of the objects of our excursion to visit. The building was entirely of wood, with wide projecting eaves, supported by posts united by a railing, which gave it a very picturesque appearance. Around the house was an enclosure for the poultry, of which there was a great profusion. Indeed, it would have been difficult for a hen-wife to know her hens. Outside this was another enclosure for cattle and horses. In a smaller paddock were several llamas, which are not indigenous to this part of the country. They had been brought from Upper Peru, where they are used as beasts of burden, and were here occasionally so employed. It was a pretty rural scene.

“It’s lovely, it’s lovely! In truth, it reminds me of Old Ireland, barring the palm-trees, and the cacti, and the chirramoyas, and the Indian corn, and those llama beasts,” exclaimed Mr Laffan. Then looking at the Indian women who were tending the poultry, he added, “And those olive damsels. Ah, young gentlemen, you should see my own fair countrywomen, and you would acknowledge that through the world you couldn’t meet any beings so lovely under the blue vault of heaven—whatever there may be above it in the form of angels; and they are as modest as they are good.”

Mr Laffan continued to expatiate on the perfections of green Erin’s Isle, its mountains, lakes, and rivers, a theme in which he delighted, until his eyes glistened, and his voice choked with emotion, as he thought of the country he might never again see.

Uncle Richard having inspected the farm, and examined some of the horses, we mounted our animals and proceeded homewards. We were approaching the house, when we caught sight of Paul Lobo galloping towards us from the direction of Popayan.

“What is the matter?” exclaimed Uncle Richard, observing his excited manner.

“El señor doctor want to see you, Massa Duncan, in quarter less no time. Says he, You Paul Lobo, get on horseback and bring him here.”

The horse stood panting for breath, its nostrils covered with foam, showing at what a rate he must have ridden.

“Why does he want to see me?” I asked anxiously. “Is he ill, or my mother or Flora?”

“No, no! dey all berry well; but el señor doctor got news from Cauca, and berry bad news too. De Spaniards enter dere, and cut de t’roats ob all de men ’cept what ride or run away, and de women as bad, and dey come on quick march to Popayan; do de same t’ing dere, no doubt.”

“That is indeed bad news,” I said. “We will get our horses and return home to-night; they are fortunately fresh. You must change horses, Paul, and go with us, after you have had some food.”

“We must endeavour to oppose them, if it can be done with any chance of success,” exclaimed Uncle Richard, who had just then come up. “I will accompany you, Duncan, and ascertain what your father advises. We will let Señor Monteverde and Dona Dolores know, in case they may not have received the information.”

We immediately entered the house, and Uncle Richard sent off a messenger to the Monteverdes, where he supposed Juan would be found.

While we had dinner, and prepared for our ride, Paul took some food, and was again ready to start when the horses were brought round.

Dona Maria was much agitated on hearing the news. “Do nothing rash, my dear Richard,” she said to her husband. “It is impossible to withstand the Godos.”

“Nothing is impossible to brave men fighting in a just cause,” answered Uncle Richard.

Embracing his wife and Rosa, to whom we had already bidden farewell, he joined us in the courtyard, where we sat our horses ready to start. We had a long ride before us in the dark, the road being none of the best, but our steeds were sure-footed, and we were well accustomed to them.

We had got to some distance, when we heard the tramp of horses coming along a road which led from the Monteverdes’ house, and Dona Dolores, with her father and four domestics, all armed, came up. She sat her steed, as far as I could judge in the fast gathering gloom, like a person who had thorough command over it. She rode up to me, as if desirous of speaking; and I took the opportunity to inquire for my friend Juan, observing that he had not returned to Don Ricardo’s.

“He has gone home to commence the career which, I trust, he will from henceforth follow,” she replied. “He will endeavour to raise and arm the men on his property, as well as others from the surrounding villages. We were already aware that the Spaniards were advancing up the valley, and had been engaged in sending information in all directions to arouse the Patriots, and to counsel them to take up arms in defence of their homes and families. We may count on you, Señor Duncan? Young as you are, you may render essential service to our glorious cause, though your arm may not yet be strong enough to wield a sword.”

“I believe I could make very good use of one, if necessary,” I answered, somewhat piqued by her remark. “Juan would tell you that I can hold my own, even against him.”

“I am glad to hear it,” she observed.

“We must not count the cost, dear as that may be,” I said; “but I shall be ready to yield up my life, and everything I possess, could I be sure that victory would be gained by the sacrifice.”

“We may count on you, then, as a Patriot?”

“Yes, most certainly, as you can on Don Ricardo.”

“And upon your tall tutor? I don’t know his name.”

I told her his name, and she immediately rode up alongside Mr Laffan. We were ascending a hill too steep to gallop up, which enabled us to hold this conversation. What the patriotic young lady said to the dominie I did not at the time know, but, whatever his previous sentiments were, her enthusiastic eloquence soon won him to the cause she had espoused.

On reaching the level ground, we galloped forward as hard as our horses could go, led by Uncle Richard. Our worthy tutor kept by the side of Hugh, about whom he seemed to have no little anxiety; but my young brother sat his horse as well as any of us, and assured Mr Laffan that he need not be troubled about him. Dona Dolores, with her father, followed close behind Uncle Richard, and whenever we were obliged to pull up she spoke with her usual earnestness to one or other of the party, as if eager to make the best use of the time in impressing her ideas on others. She did not disdain to speak even to Paul Lobo.

“I do what massa el señor doctor does,” was the reply.

She found, at last, that she could make nothing of Paul—who was, however, as great a lover of liberty as any of us.

Crossing the bridge, we at length entered the city, where the streets were even more quiet than usual. We scarcely met a single person as we rode up to our house. It was perhaps as well that we did not, for the appearance of so large a party might have roused the suspicions of some of the Spanish authorities.

My father came in from visiting a patient at the moment we arrived. Dona Dolores and Señor Monteverde had, I should have said, parted from us, and gone to the house of a friend. My father seemed somewhat surprised at seeing Uncle Richard with us, but said he was very glad that he had come. We found supper on the table waiting us; and as soon as the servants had withdrawn, my father addressed me, and told us the particulars of the news he had received.

“This city will not be a safe place for women and children, or any one else, in a short time,” he observed. “Those who have duties to perform must remain at their posts. I have numerous patients whom I ought not to and will not desert. I therefore sent for you, Duncan, to take charge of your mother and sister, and to escort them to your Uncle Richard’s, where you can watch over their safety. I know that I can rely on Mr Laffan to assist you.”

“Indeed, sir, you may,” he replied; “while I have an arm to strike a blow, I will fight for the ladies.”

“I hope that while they are in my house they will run no risk, removed as it is from the city,” said Uncle Richard; “and if you will entrust them to my keeping, I will take care of them, along with my wife and daughter. Duncan and Mr Laffan may be of use here.”

Uncle Richard then began to tell my father the plans which had been formed for preventing the Spaniards from entering the city.

My father stopped him. “I desire not to be acquainted with anything that is going forward. It is my duty to endeavour to heal the sick and wounded, in the character of a physician and a non-combatant. I may remain unmolested, and be able to serve the cause of humanity. As for Duncan and Mr Laffan, I will reconsider my intentions. I will, however, accept your offer as regards my wife and Flora, and place them under your care.”

It was finally arranged that my mother and sister, with their female attendants, and Hugh, should set off the next morning, escorted by Uncle Richard; and that Mr Laffan and I should remain until, in the course of events, it might be decided what was best to be done.

Chapter Four.

My mother and sister leave Popayan with Uncle Richard—Mr Laffan and I accompany them—Lion given to me—Meet Juan and his troop—Hear an inspiriting address from Dona Dolores—A political ball at Don Carlos Mosquera’s—Dona Dolores warns me against Captain Lopez—She enlists numerous recruits—The dominie shows that he has had military experience—Drilling the levies—The citizens employed in erecting fortifications—The enemy approach—Preparations for the defence—The summons to arms—The city attacked—Mr Laffan and I join Don Juan—The enemy driven back—A sortie—The enemy attacked—Guns captured—Return in triumph to the city.

During the night information was received that the Spaniards, two days before, had entered Bouga, on the Cauca, leaving us in no doubt that they were advancing up the valley, and might be expected in our neighbourhood in the course of three or four days—perhaps even their cavalry might appear sooner, as they probably, thinking there was no force to oppose them, would push on ahead of the main body. My father therefore kept to his resolution of sending off my mother and sister; and the next morning at daylight, after a hurried breakfast, the horses and mules were brought round to the courtyard, ready to start. My mother and sister, and the female attendants, rode the mules; the rest of the party were mounted on horseback. It was settled that Mr Laffan and I should accompany them to Egido, as we could without difficulty be back before nightfall.

Our uncle, Dr Cazalla, came to see our mother off.

“I wish that you would accompany us, my dear brother,” she said. “If the Spaniards take the place, you are certain to be annoyed and persecuted, even should no worse consequences follow.”

“No, no; I must stay at my post, as your husband intends doing. We must set a good example. If the principal people run away, what may be expected of others?”

My mother’s entreaties were of no avail, so Uncle Richard, finding that all was ready, gave the word to move on.

We proceeded as fast as the mules could travel, and by noon arrived at Uncle Richard’s hacienda, where Aunt Maria and Rosa gave my mother a warm reception.

“We shall here, I trust, be safe from the Spaniards; but if we hear of their coming, we must take to the mountains, where even they will be unable to find us,” said Dona Maria.

“But what will become of the house and estate?” asked my mother.

“We must leave that matter in God’s hands,” answered Dona Maria. “If the fruit trees are cut down, and the corn destroyed, he can restore them. The Godos cannot prevent that.”

As soon as our horses had baited, the dominie and I prepared to start on our return. I embraced my mother and sister affectionately, and bade farewell to dear little Rosa and Aunt Maria. We knew not what might occur before we should meet again. I had, while staying at the house, admired a fine dog called Lion, which had grown from a puppy into a noble animal since I first saw him. The creature had taken a great fancy to me, too, and this had been observed by Uncle Richard.

“I make you a present of him, Duncan,” said Uncle Richard; “he will prove faithful, I am sure, and may possibly be of service.”

Lion was a species of hound, with a thick tawny coat and large paws, possessing prodigious strength. He was good-tempered and obedient, but at the same time it was very evident that he could fight desperately with those powerful jaws of his. Patting his head, I told him that he was to accompany us, and he seemed fully to understand me. The dominie was already mounted. Lion looked at Uncle Richard when he saw me getting on horseback, as if to ask if he was to go. Uncle Richard nodded, and pointed to me. So Lion set off, keeping close to my heels all the way, clearly understanding that I was in future to be his master.

Mr Laffan was as eager to get back to the town as I was, in order to hear the news. We were still about half a league from Popayan, when we saw, in an open space near a wood, a considerable body of men, some on horseback, others on foot, with flags fluttering above their heads. As we approached, one of them rode out to meet us, in whom I recognised Don Juan, though much changed in appearance. Instead of his civil garb he was dressed in military fashion, with a long lance in his hand, a carbine at his back, and pistols in his holsters.

“I have not been idle, you see, Duncan,” he observed, after we had greeted each other. “I have raised fifty fine fellows, and hope to have a hundred more mounted and armed in a day or two. If every gentleman will do the same, we shall soon collect a Patriot force sufficient to drive back the Spaniards.”

We rode forward with him to see his troop. The larger number were mounted, but there were some infantry armed with long guns—tall, sinewy fellows, dressed in broad-brimmed hats, loose trousers, and coats fastened by pouch belts round their waists. The horsemen also wore large sombreros, leggings and huge spurs, and tight-fitting jackets; and they were armed with spears and swords of various lengths. Some had pistols, others carbines, but the lance was the principal weapon.

We rode together into the town,—the infantry, who wore only sandals on their feet, keeping up with the horses. We were passing down one of the streets on our way to a convent which the authorities had turned into barracks, when a lady appeared at a balcony. Juan reined in his steed, and ordered his men to halt. I recognised Dona Dolores. My friend bowed low, with a look of pride on his countenance. Dona Dolores smiled, and addressed a few encouraging words to the men, reminding them of the cruelties which had often been inflicted by the hated Godos, urging them to fight bravely, and not to sheathe their swords until they had driven their foes into the sea. The men cheered, and Dona Dolores saying she would no longer delay them, we rode on.

The dominie and I parted from Juan at the next turning, and soon reached home. Finding that my father was just setting out to attend a large party given at the house of Don Carlos Mosquera, one of the principal inhabitants of the place, Mr Laffan and I hurriedly dressed and accompanied him. Though ostensibly a ball, the real object was to bring persons of Liberal principles together, of both sexes. As many of the upper classes took a warm interest in the cause of freedom, nearly all the ladies of the influential families were there, with their husbands and fathers. I was surprised, also, to see several parish priests, who were as warm in the cause as any other person. Indeed, one of these padres had donned a semi-military costume, and announced his intention of aiding his countrymen with his sword. Those who knew him best said that he could fight as well as he could preach.

I soon met Dona Dolores and her father. She smiled, and beckoned me to her.

“I was glad to see you just now with Don Juan, and I hope that you will obtain your father’s leave to join his corps,” she said.

I replied that I would gladly do so, but that at present my father wished me to remain with him at Popayan.

While we were speaking Don Juan joined us, when Dona Dolores complimented him on his zeal and activity in so soon getting together a body of men.

“We have got the men, the arms, and the horses, but we all require what cannot so readily be obtained—the necessary discipline,” he answered. “I myself require to learn the duties of an officer, for, except that I can use a sword and lance, I know little of military affairs.”

“You will soon learn, Juan,” said Dona Dolores in encouraging tones; “you must obtain an expert instructor, and your own natural talents will point out to you how to act on most occasions.”

Just then a military officer approached and bowed to Dona Dolores. I saw an expression of scorn pass over her countenance, unobserved by Juan, who, saluting the officer, addressed him as Captain Lopez.

“The very man I want,” observed my friend. “I have just raised a body of men, who require to be disciplined. You have had experience; you must join me, if you do not already belong to a regiment.”

I did not hear the answer given by Captain Lopez, but Dona Dolores, turning to me, said, “He is not to be trusted; a mean-spirited fellow, though a great boaster. You must tell Juan not to accept his services.”

This Captain Lopez was, I afterwards found, a rejected suitor for the hand of Dona Dolores. With her clear perception, she had discovered that he did not possess the qualities she could admire.

Juan and Captain Lopez had gone to some distance, and were engaged in eager conversation. During this time several persons had come up and asked Dona Dolores to dance; but she declined, saying that she was in no mood for such an amusement. She contrived, however, to keep most of them by her side for some time, while she urged on them the duty of joining the Patriot cause. I left her surrounded by a number of gentlemen, and went to look after Juan, to whom I wished to repeat the remarks I had heard from Dona Dolores. I found him at length in an alcove, still talking with Captain Lopez. The captain’s countenance, as I watched him at a little distance, impressed me very unfavourably. There was a scowl on his brow, and a peculiar wrinkle about his lips, which made me feel that I for one would not trust him; and I hoped that my friend would not be induced to do so either.

I waited until the captain quitted Juan, to whom I then went up, and told him what Dona Dolores had said.

“She is too probably right, for she has wonderful perception of character; but, unfortunately, I have engaged Captain Lopez to come and drill my men, and I cannot now well put him off without his considering himself insulted. However, I will remember the warning I have received, and not trust him too much. I intend to bear the whole expense of the corps myself, and am anxious to get some smart young officers. I wish that you would join us, Duncan. You would soon learn your duties; they come almost by instinct to some people.”

“If I can get my father’s leave, depend upon it I will,” I answered; “and as Mr Laffan has seen some service, I have no doubt that he will assist you. Perhaps he himself will join. I suspect that he would be as well able to drill your corps as Captain Lopez.”

Several gentlemen present had been engaged in raising men; and, I was told, there were already upwards of two thousand troops in town, though few of them were sufficiently disciplined to meet the enemy. Other Patriot leaders were scouring the country round to obtain recruits, and these, in small parties, were coming in during the night.

In spite of the serious aspect of affairs, the people at this ball danced as much as ever. The card-tables were also filled, but the players stopped very frequently, forgetting the game to discuss matters of importance. I understood that there were men on the watch at the doors, to give notice should any foes to the Liberal party make their appearance.

“I found, on our return home, that my father was pretty well satisfied with the enthusiasm exhibited by the people generally.

“Bloodshed I fear there must be, for the Spaniards fancy that they can overthrow liberty with a few blows, and are determined to stamp it out; but they are mistaken,” he observed.

From dawn the next morning, till nightfall, the new levies were undergoing drill in the great square. I saw Juan at the head of his men, and Captain Lopez drilling them.

“Don’t you think you can give my friend Juan a helping hand?” I said to Mr Laffan, who had accompanied me.

“Faith, it’s not impossible!” he exclaimed, his eye brightening. “If he asks me, I’ll try to brush up my knowledge of such matters.”

I told Juan what the dominie had said, when he at once came forward and begged that he would take charge of a part of his men.

“Is it the cavalry or the infantry?” asked Mr Laffan.

“The cavalry are the most important,” answered Juan. “Here is a spare horse at your service.”

Mr Laffan at once leapt into the saddle, and going to the head of the men, formed them into line. To my surprise, he gave the proper orders in Spanish without hesitation, and soon showed that he had had no little experience as a cavalry officer. He kept the men at work for three hours without cessation, after which they were dismissed for breakfast. Captain Lopez cast a scowl at us as he passed on his way to his quarters, without deigning to compliment Mr Laffan on his proficiency. Juan accompanied us home to breakfast, and afterwards we returned to the square, when, to my surprise, the dominie took the infantry in hand, and drilled them for four hours in a still more thorough way even than he had done the cavalry.

“If we had but a few British sergeants and corporals, we should make something of these fellows in a few weeks,” he observed. “I would be mightily obliged to the enemy if they would but wait till then; we should by that time be able to give a good account of them.”

Don Juan, as might have been expected, begged Mr Laffan to join his corps, offering him the command of either of the companies.

“I am engaged to the doctor, and cannot quit his service unless he dismisses me,” he answered; “but, while I have the opportunity, I will gladly drill your men for as many hours as they can stand on their legs. Some years have passed since I have done any soldiering, and it makes me feel young again to be so engaged.”

While the levies were drilling, the townspeople—including old men, women, and children—were employed, under the few officers who had any knowledge of engineering, in throwing up batteries and forming entrenchments round the town. In some cases the walls were strengthened by the aid of a machine, consisting of a large square bottomless box, into which the mud was thrown, and then beaten down hard. A number of these boxes were used at a time, and it was extraordinary with what rapidity a strong wall could thus be erected. The mud was brought in carts, in baskets, and in various other ways, and thrown into the box. Additional strength was gained by forming a slope on the outer side. A number of guns buried on a former occasion by the Patriots, to conceal them from the Spaniards, were also dug up, and mounted. Night and day the people worked, for every hour gained added to the strength of the place, and increased the prospect of successfully resisting the enemy.

There were several known Royalists in Popayan, who had hitherto remained quiet; and many of them, on seeing the preparations made for the defence, hurriedly left the town. Many Liberals also sent off their families, to avoid the risk to which they would be exposed. Among the Royalists I met the Bishop of Popayan, Don Salvador Ximenes, mounted on a splendid horse, and attended by his secretary and several ecclesiastics—who, but for their hats, I should have taken for military officers, for they were all armed to the teeth, and had a decidedly martial aspect. My father knew the bishop well, while I had often seen him. Though a somewhat small man, he was remarkably well-made, and had a good-natured, open countenance, with sparkling grey eyes. His secretary was a tall, good-looking fellow, with a broad pair of shoulders, but bearded like a pard, and looking little like a priest; indeed, he had formerly been a captain of dragoons in Spain, until he followed the bishop out to South America. Don Salvador had been canon of the cathedral at Malaga when Buonaparte invaded Spain. On that occasion, throwing off his ecclesiastical garb, he had assumed the rank of a colonel, and by his preachings and exhortations he had aroused the Spanish peasantry to resist the French. On the restoration of Ferdinand the Seventh to the crown of Spain, the ci-devant colonel was created Bishop of Popayan, then in possession of the Spaniards, where he had made himself very popular among all ranks, notwithstanding his political opinions.

On meeting the martial-looking bishop and his companions, I felt sure that his departure foreboded no good to the Patriot cause. I bowed to him as I passed, and he gave me a nod of recognition, although he was well aware that I was not a member of his flock.

I at once rode on to Don Carlos Mosquera’s house, to inform him of the departure of the bishop, should he not be acquainted with it.

“Let him go,” he answered. “He will do more harm to liberty inside the town than he will do without; and we cannot imprison him. If he comes as an enemy, a bullet may put a stop to his intrigues.”

I frequently met Dona Dolores on the parade-ground, riding a handsome horse, and attended by her father, Juan, and others. She on several occasions addressed the men, especially the new recruits, and urged them to be faithful to the noble cause in which they were engaged. She also occupied herself in writing to Patriots in various parts of the country, or to persons whom she hoped to win over.

While the citizens were working away in the town, scouts were sent out, that we might have early notice of the approach of the enemy. Several days elapsed, however, without any news of their approach, and this afforded time for fortifying the city and increasing the number of its defenders. So confident did the Patriots at length become, that it was proposed to march out and encounter the enemy in the open country; but wiser counsels prevailed. Our men were ill-disciplined, and we had no field-artillery.

Upwards of a week had passed, when the scouts brought in the information that the Spaniards were advancing. Still two or three days must elapse before they could reach Popayan. The interval was spent in strengthening the fortifications, and otherwise preparing for the defence of the city. Provisions were brought in, and gunpowder and shot manufactured, while the drilling of the men went on as energetically as at first. White men, Indians, and blacks, all seemed to take a real pleasure in their duties. The army was certainly a motley one, both in costume and colour, composed as it was of men of every shade from white to black—the dark, however, predominating; several of the officers were black, and others had Indian blood in their veins, if they were not pure Indians. Where all fight for liberty, however, the only qualifications required for command are talent and courage. Not a few even of the highest rank could neither read nor write.

My father, I may here say, had half consented that I should join Don Juan’s troop, and had given leave to Mr Laffan to act as he felt inclined.

The enemy had now got within three leagues of the city. Some deserters who came in—or rather, I should say, some Liberals who had made their escape from the Royalist ranks—informed us that they were not at all prepared for the resistance they would meet with, as they were not aware that the city was so strongly fortified and garrisoned.

Each night we went to bed expecting that the next day might be that of battle; but I was one morning awakened by hearing all the bells in the city ringing. I jumped up, and going to Mr Laffan’s room, found him dressed, and in the act of buckling on his sword—afterwards sticking a brace of pistols in his belt.

“I intend to join Don Juan,” he said; “if I fall, Duncan, you will not forget the instruction I have given you. Good-bye, my boy; do you stay quietly at home.”

“Not if I can help it,” I answered. “Wait but five minutes. My father will not refuse me permission to assist in defending the walls.”

I was quickly ready, and came downstairs to find my father.

“You cannot let me play a girl’s part and stay at home!” I exclaimed. “Do let me go.”

“I am afraid I should not be right in hindering you. May Heaven protect you!” answered my father.

“Thank you, thank you,” I replied, as if the greatest possible favour had been granted me; and I set off with Mr Laffan.

Mounting our horses, we rode to the lines, near which we found Juan’s troops.

“I hope we shall have an opportunity of making a sortie,” exclaimed the dominie; “we will put the Spaniards to the right-about if we get the chance of taking them in flank.”

While our servants held the horses, we went into the nearest battery, from whence we could see the Spaniards advancing to the attack. By the way in which they came on, it was clear that they expected to enter an unwalled town; and our batteries were so concealed that the enemy did not discover their existence until close up to them, when we opened upon them with every gun at once. Their artillery replied, but their shot struck our embankments; while ours flew into the midst of their ranks, creating confusion and dismay. Their infantry, however, advanced, firing rapidly, and several of the defenders were hit; but this only increased the ardour of the rest. The whole south side of the city was a blaze of fire, both parties rapidly exchanging shots. The enemy, however, soon saw that this general style of assault would not succeed, and concentrated their efforts on the batteries defending the chief entrance; but again and again were they driven back.

I had gone with Mr Laffan towards the eastern side, when, by means of our glasses, we saw a large body of men, accompanied by artillery and cavalry, making their way round, intending apparently to attack the city on the other side. On my conveying the information to our general, Don Juan offered to lead out his men, and proceed by some by-paths through a wood, so as to fall suddenly on the flank of the force—hoping to capture the guns and put the enemy to flight. This offer was accepted.

“You will accompany me?” said Juan to the dominie and me.

“With all the pleasure in the world,” was the answer; and in another moment we were riding out to the southward of the city—the part Juan had selected for the ambush. We were followed by a body of infantry, who were to support us, for without them we could not secure the fruits of our hoped-for victory.

The dominie was in the highest spirits, and could scarcely restrain himself from shouting out in his glee. Every now and then he gave a flourish with his sword, as if well acquainted with its use.

On we dashed, over all impediments—our light-footed infantry not far behind. We had just time to reach the wood where we were to remain concealed, and to give our horses breathing time, when we heard the approach of the Spaniards. We waited in perfect silence until their cavalry had passed, when, Juan giving the signal, we dashed out from our cover, taking them completely by surprise. The gunners were cut down, almost before they had time to draw their swords; after which we immediately charged upon the infantry, who, though they received us with an ill-directed fire, were at once thrown into confusion. Meantime the enemy’s cavalry had wheeled about as fast as the narrowness of the road would permit them, and came charging down upon us to attempt to recapture the guns; but our infantry, who had now come up, poured in a hot fire, by which a third of their saddles was emptied. Unable to ascertain our numbers, they must have imagined that they were being attacked by a large force, and a panic seizing them, the survivors galloped off to the south, leaving their guns in our hands, while the infantry, whom we pursued, fled in disorder towards the main body. We followed, sabring all we overtook; when Mr Laffan advised Juan to return, lest an attempt might be made to retake the guns, the most important fruit of our victory. Our foot-soldiers, however, had in the meantime harnessed to them some of the slain troopers’ horses, and when we got back we found they were already half-way to the city. In half an hour we were triumphantly entering it; and dragging the guns up to the batteries, we made use of them against their late owners.

In less than an hour after this the Spaniards were in full retreat. Patriotic shouts rose on all sides, and the bells rang forth joyous peals, while every man congratulated his neighbour on the victory gained.

Don Juan did not fail to receive a reward for his gallantry in the approving smiles of Dona Dolores. It was his first battle, and he had given proof that he was a brave and intelligent leader. Congratulations were offered him on every side, and all predicted that he would ere long become one of the chiefs of the Republic.

Chapter Five.

Aroused by alarm-bells—Country-houses seen on fire—Anxiety about Uncle Richard’s—Retreat of the Spaniards—Mr Laffan and I ride out to Egido—Find the Monteverdes’ house burned to the ground—Egido destroyed—What has become of the inmates?—Proceed in search of them—No tidings—Inquire of some peasantry—Obtain recruits—Pursued by Spanish cavalry—Almost overtaken—We reach the town—Juan chases the Spaniards—Fresh troops arrive—Anxiety about our family and Uncle Richard’s—Paul Lobo sets out to find them—We hear that the Fastucians, headed by the Bishop of Popayan, are advancing to attack us—Our army marches to meet them—The Bishop sends a flag of truce proposing terms—I and others accept an invitation to dine with the Pastucian officers—Fearful treachery—Captain Pinson and my other companions killed—I leap from the window and mount my horse—A ride for life.

Rejoicings for the victory we had gained were taking place when I returned home, wearied by the fatigues I had gone through. My father was out attending to the wounded, of whom there were large numbers, besides which many of the defenders had been killed. It was still dark when I was aroused by the ringing of the alarm-bells, and dressing hurriedly, I ran to Mr Laffan’s room. He also had got up; and taking our horses from the stable, we rode out to ascertain the cause. We found people in every direction hastening to the ramparts. On reaching the top of an embankment, we saw fires blazing up in several directions to the north and east.

“These must be country-houses and farms which the Spaniards have set on fire,” observed my companion.

Several persons whom we found on the spot were of the same opinion. Probably the cavalry who had escaped to the southward had returned, and, in revenge, had set fire to all the residences they passed; or detachments had been sent from the main body to lay waste the country. As the more distant fires were in the direction of Egido, and Señor Monteverde’s hacienda, I felt very anxious about our family.

Had they had time to escape? I knew too well that the Spaniards spared neither sex nor age. My hope, however, was that Uncle Richard would have been on the watch, and have left the house in time—though that, too probably, had fallen a sacrifice to the vengeance of the Spaniards.

In a short time I encountered Juan, who was anxious to march out and attack the enemy; but the general, he said, had prohibited him from doing so, “as his men were as yet too ill-disciplined for such an undertaking, and would most certainly be defeated.”

The alarm that another assault was about to be made proved false, as scouts sent out reported that the enemy were still upwards of two leagues from the city. When daylight returned no Spaniards were in sight, nor could any signs of them be seen from the highest point in the city.

Just as Mr Laffan and I returned home my father came in, tired out by the arduous labours in which he had all night been engaged. On my telling him of the fears I entertained of what had happened at Egido, he, after some hesitation, gave me leave to ride out and ascertain if the inmates had escaped.

“I will go with you, Duncan,” said Mr Laffan; “two heads are of more value than one, and so are two swords, and if we fall in with enemies we shall have a better chance of cutting; our way through them.”

Anxiety concerning the fate of my mother and sister overcame my father’s scruples, so, mounting our horses, Mr Laffan and I rode out through the eastern gate. Our steeds were accustomed to the road, and we put them to their best speed.

We had gone about two-thirds of the way, when Mr Laffan reined in his horse, observing,—“We may be riding right into the middle of a detachment of the Spaniards, if we go along at this rate. More haste, less speed! A good soldier should feel his way, when an enemy is likely to be in the neighbourhood.”

We accordingly advanced more cautiously than we had done at first, except when we could see our way for some distance ahead. Our road ran not far from the residence of Señor Monteverde; and in regard to it our worst apprehensions were fulfilled. The house had been burned to the ground, the garden and the surrounding fields destroyed. I regretted that I should have such sad intelligence to convey to Dona Dolores. A glance was sufficient to show us what had been done, and as we galloped on our anxiety increased lest Egido should have shared the same fate.

“We must be prepared for the worst,” said Mr Laffan, as he pointed to a column of smoke which ascended above the trees in the direction of Egido.

In a few minutes we reached the spot where the house once stood entire; its blackened walls alone remained, the interior filled with heaps of still smouldering embers. The enemy had indeed made short work of it. We found that the stables had escaped, but the horses had been carried away, and not an animal of any description remained; nor could we see any person moving about from whom to obtain information. We searched the out-houses, which were not harmed, and the ruins, as far as the hot embers would allow, but we could discover no traces of bodies.

“The inmates must have got away before the enemy arrived,” I exclaimed.

“I truly hope so,” answered Mr Laffan, but he did not look very confident.

“If they escaped, they would take the road to the mountains,” I suggested. “Let us ride on in that direction; we may possibly meet with some one who has seen them. I cannot bear to return to my father without some more hopeful information than we possess.”

The dominie not objecting, we rode on. However he very frequently stood up in his stirrups to get a look round, fearing that we might be riding into the lion’s mouth.

We had gone some distance when we caught sight of a group of persons collected on a slight elevation, from whence they could obtain a view over the plain. When they first discovered us, they showed some disposition to conceal themselves, but on observing that we were but two persons of fair complexion their fears apparently vanished, and they remained waiting our approach.

I immediately inquired whether they had seen any fugitives from the Spaniards making their way to the mountains.

“Yes, señor; many and good cause they had to run, for the Godos put to death all they caught. We ourselves got away just in time from our cottage, which the cruel barbarians burned. They would have killed us had we remained.”

I then asked if they had seen Don Ricardo—who was, I thought, probably known to them—with a party of ladies, either on foot or horseback.

One of two men to whom I more particularly addressed myself answered that they had, about daybreak, seen a party who had got some way up the mountains, but they were too far off to enable them to distinguish who they were. More definite information they could not give us.

They were fine tall fellows, dressed in the universal broad-brimmed hat, ponchos over their shoulders, and loose trousers—with, of course, bare feet; while they were smoking in the most unconcerned manner, as if they took their misfortunes lightly.

“Are you not disposed to punish those, who have destroyed your farm?” I asked.

I then told them of the corps which were being raised, and invited them to join. Their eyes brightened when I spoke of the possibility of driving the Spaniards for ever from the country. A woman who was with them, and who had remained seated beside a basket of provisions, started to her feet.

“Yes,” she exclaimed; “we shall never enjoy peace or prosperity until that has been accomplished! Pépé! Mariano! you will fight—we will all fight—for so good a cause.”

They agreed to come into the town after they had gone back to their farm and endeavoured to recover any of the cattle, pigs, or poultry which had escaped.

“There is little chance of that; the thieves will have carried off everything,” observed the woman.

As we could gain no further information from these persons, we resolved to try and make our way up the mountains, in the hope of either finding our friends, or hearing from other fugitives where they had taken shelter; but although we fell in with a few more people, our inquiries proved unsuccessful.

We had ridden some distance, when the dominie, who could see well ahead, exclaimed. “We shall either have to hide ourselves or ride for it! Those men are, I suspect, Spanish cavalry.”

To hide ourselves, owing to the nature of the ground, was scarcely possible, and almost before we had turned our horses’ heads, the enemy, for such undoubtedly they were, had discovered us. Our animals, too, from the rate at which we had come, were somewhat fatigued. We had only stopped once, to allow them to drink at a fountain.

“We must gallop for it,” said Mr Laffan, “or we shall chance to be shot or made prisoners by the Spaniards. Keep a firm hand on your rein, and do not spare either whip or spur. On we go.” And digging spurs into our horses’ flanks, we galloped forward in the direction of the town, with the Spaniards in full pursuit.

There were a dozen or more of them, but they were too far off to fire with any chance of hitting us. We had a fair start, too, but our horses might come down, or we might encounter another party in front; still, neither of us were inclined to yield until every hope of escape was gone.

“On, on!” cried the dominie, feeling for the pistols in his holsters, so that they might be ready at any moment. “I intend to shoot one or two fellows if they come near us,—and you must do the same, Duncan; but it will be better to keep well ahead of them.”

But the Spaniards’ horses were fresh, and, led by a well-mounted officer, they were gaining on us. At last they got near enough to fire, and several bullets whistled through the air; but we were still too far ahead to run much risk of being hit. The sound had the effect of reanimating our horses, however, and they redoubled their efforts, their nostrils snorting, their mouths and bodies covered with foam. At length the towers and steeples of the city appeared in sight. If we could lead the Spaniards up to the walls, they might, we hoped, be cut off. We shouted, therefore, in order to attract the attention of the sentinels. Fortunately we had been observed, and so were the enemy, for as we got in sight of the gate it opened, and out dashed a body of horse, led by Juan. It was now the turn of our pursuers to fly, and as we looked over our shoulders we saw them wheeling round. At length pulling rein, we stood on one side, while Juan and his troop dashed by. I should have liked to have accompanied him, but our steeds, having once stopped, could only just stagger on into the city.

In a short time Juan returned, having cut down eight or ten of the Spaniards, when he had to gallop back on finding himself in the presence of a vastly superior force.

The troops in the city, flushed with their success, were eager to be led out against the enemy; but as they were chiefly raw recruits, the general firmly refused to comply with their wishes. The scouts brought back word that the enemy were retiring rapidly, although in good order, to the northward. The object of this retrograde movement we could not at first ascertain, but concluded that it was in consequence of other Patriot forces gathering in their rear, and they were afraid of being cut off from the capital.

Our numbers now daily increased. The two peasants, Pépé and Mariano, whom we had met, arrived with twenty companions,—tall, stalwart men, who, with others like them, made excellent infantry. Two regiments of fairly disciplined troops also arrived, partly officered by Englishmen and other foreigners; and it was now said that we should be able to take the field, if necessary, to attack the Spaniards.

My father had, in the meantime, been fearfully anxious about Uncle Richard’s and our own family, but with the information the dominie and I brought him his mind grew more tranquil. As he had perfect confidence in Uncle Richard’s judgment and forethought, he came to the belief that they had made their escape before the house was attacked. I wished again to set out in search of them, either by myself or with Mr Laffan, and to bring them back into the city. My father, however, not being so confident as many other people that the place would not be again attacked, said that they were safer among the mountains than they would be did they return to the city. “Uncle Richard,” he said, “would probably make arrangements to obtain provisions from his small farm, which, being away from the highroad, the Spaniards would probably have passed by without destroying.” He settled, however, to send Paul Lobo with a mule loaded with warm clothing for the ladies, wine, and other articles which they were likely to require.

“Depend on me, massa. I find dem out, wherever dey are, and bring back word,” answered Paul, as he prepared to set out.

I occasionally saw Dona Dolores. Juan, too, whenever disengaged from his military duties, spent most of his time in her society, and, imbibing the principles which animated her, became more and more attached to the Patriot cause.

We had generally great difficulty in obtaining intelligence of the movements of our friends in different parts of the country, as the Spaniards did their best to capture, and invariably shot, every messenger or bearer of despatches. Indeed, they treated Patriots as banditti beyond the pale of the law. It must be owned, however, that our party often retaliated on them in a fearful manner.

We were anxiously waiting for Paul’s return, when information was received that the Pastucians—the inhabitants of the province of Pasto, some way to the south of Popayan, who, being completely under the influence of the priests, had always opposed the Patriots—had risen in arms, and were marching northward in large numbers. They had been induced to rise by no less a person than Don Salvador Ximenes, the Bishop of Popayan; and it was said that that illustrious prelate, armed cap-à-pie, and accompanied by his stalwart secretary, was at the head of the Pastucian army. At first the report was not believed, but our spies corroborated it; so, as doubt no longer remained on the subject, it was settled that the Patriot forces must immediately march to repel the enemy, in order to prevent the southern part of our province being overrun. Our troops, now pretty fairly drilled, were eager for the expedition. We had a good body of infantry; our artillery was represented by the three guns we had captured; and we had five hundred cavalry, including Don Juan’s troop—to which both I and Mr Laffan were now regularly attached.

Early in the morning we marched out of Popayan, and as we surveyed our forces, we, from the oldest to the youngest soldier, felt confident of victory.

But I must rapidly pass over this time. A march of several days brought us in sight of the enemy, who lay encamped about two leagues from where we halted. They were posted in an advantageous position close to a small village, with inaccessible heights behind them, a rapid stream in front, and a defile on the south which could be held by a few men, through which they might retreat if defeated. We occupied a less formidable position, but one which would enable the whole of our force to act at once, should we be attacked. Our men were in high spirits, and as ready to attack the enemy’s position as to defend their own, should the Pastucians, taking the initiative, assault us. Instead of doing so, however, a flag of truce was sent into our camp from the bishop, expressing his wish to prevent bloodshed by an amicable arrangement of matters. Our general replied that the surest way of bringing this about was for his followers to return to their homes and disarm.

Several priests and others came with the flag of truce, under the pretence of visiting their friends in our camp; and wonderfully busy they were. It was thought that an amicable arrangement would be arrived at, and that both parties would march back without coming to blows. So friendly, indeed, were we, to all appearance, that the Pastucian officers sent an invitation to the officers of the flank company of the regiment of the Cauca to dine within their lines. An English officer, a Captain Brown, to whom I was paying a visit, and who was unwell at the time, begged that I would go instead of him, as I might be amused—the Pastucians having the credit of being a set of rough diamonds.

The next day about a dozen of us set out for the Pastucian lines, two leagues off—Captain Pinson, the commander of the company, being our leader. We were all in good spirits, laughing and joking, and expecting to be highly amused by our hosts. I promised to give Captain Brown an account of the party; but thinking it probable that there would be more drinking after dinner than I should like, I had arranged to ride back alone, and ordered my servant Antonio, who followed us, to have my horse in readiness at about four o’clock. The dinner-hour was to be two o’clock.

The Pastucian officers, who were more than treble our number, received us with every mark of courtesy, though a less attractive set of gentlemen I had never met. Indeed, they greatly resembled a party of banditti. Their complexions were swarthy, many of them having Indian blood in their veins. They all wore huge moustaches and beards, with their long black hair either falling over their shoulders or fastened behind in a queue, while their countenances were decidedly unprepossessing. They were, however, bland in the extreme, and had provided abundant fare, although not cooked in the most refined style. There was no want of wine and spirits, too, with which our hosts plied us. I remarked that there were two or three Pastucians between each of the Patriot officers.

Dinner went on as usual, though it was somewhat prolonged. Then speeches were made, chiefly complimentary to each other, both parties avoiding politics. Songs were then sung, and more speeches made.

I, however, began to grow very tired of the affair. I was seated, I should have said, opposite to Captain Pinson,—placed in that position, near the head of the table, in compliment to my father being an Englishman. While a song was being sung, I heard one of the Pastucian officers near me say to a companion, looking meanwhile at Captain Pinson, who had on a uniform with a large amount of lace about it, “I have made up my mind to have that fellow’s coat for my share.” As the Pastucian officer appeared already to be half-seas over, I thought that he had spoken in jest, or that I had misunderstood him.

On looking at my watch, I found that it was time for me to go, as the hour at which I had ordered my horse to be brought had arrived; rising from my seat, and going towards the window, I saw my servant leading my horse backwards and forwards.

I was on the point of moving towards the door, hoping to leave the room without being questioned, when I saw Captain Pinson start up; and turning to the other Patriot officers, he exclaimed, “Gentlemen, we are betrayed—treachery is intended—fly for your lives!” As he said this he drew his sword, when several of the Pastucian officers set upon him. By a natural impulse I sprang towards the window, while I drew my sword, intending to support my companions. Captain Pinson had moved in the same direction, that he might have greater scope for his weapon. I was soon convinced that he was not mistaken in his supposition that treachery was intended, for three of the Patriot officers by this time lay stretched on the floor, stabbed to the heart! The rest had endeavoured to rally near Captain Pinson, who called to them to make for the door and cut their way out. The Pastucians, who were mostly powerful men, set so fiercely on us, however, that I saw there was but little hope of this being accomplished, although Captain Pinson had already killed two of them. Pistols were drawn, and the bullets now began to fly in all directions. It would be difficult to picture a more fearful scene. The room was full of smoke; shouts and horrible oaths arose; while the Pastucians rushed again and again at our little band, on each occasion unhappily bringing to the ground one or more of our number.

I was fighting as well as I could by Captain Pinson’s side, when he said to me, “Save yourself if you can—quick!—through the window; all hope is gone for us.” This, I feared, was too true; for just then overwhelming numbers of Pastucians rushed into the room, armed with spears and bayonets. Half our number had already fallen dead on the floor; most of the others were desperately wounded, as was Captain Pinson. I saw him plunge his sword into the breast of a third Pastucian, who was making a lunge at me with a spear. This decided me. Though unwilling to desert my companions, I was convinced that the destruction of the whole of us was intended, and that I should fall a victim with the rest. With one bound I leapt from the window, and called to Antonio, who was on the point of galloping off. He immediately pulled up, and rode towards me. A shower of bullets, fired from the house, came rattling around; but in another instant I was on horseback, and, with my faithful servant, galloping for my life.

Chapter Six.

We pass through the lines—Bullets whistle past our ears—Dangers on every side—We approach a Pastucian outpost, and turn to the right to avoid it—Rough ground—A river to cross—Pursued by the Pastucians—A tearful passage—Fired at, and wounded—We get out of range—Antonio binds up my wound—Reach the camp—Meet Mr Laffan—Make my report—Carried to Captain Brown’s tent—An attack expected—I crawl to a height and witness the fight—The Pastucians, led by the Bishop, fight bravely, but are driven back—Our army pursues—The wounded brought in—Captain Laffan among them—We are sent back in litters to Popayan—Unsatisfactory intelligence from the army, which marches southward—The city threatened by the Spaniards from the north—We again prepare for the defence of the city—The dominie seized with fever—My father and I are visiting at Don Cassiodoro’s when the Spaniards enter the town—Antonio escapes with the horse of a Spanish colonel.

Antonio and I had escaped the volleys fired at us, but we had yet to pass through another shower of bullets. The house at which I had dined was not far from the lines, and the troops stationed there would endeavour to stop us. The gate, however, was open, to allow the passage of some mules bringing in provisions. The shots fired at us had scared the guards, who could not make out what was happening; but before they had time to close the entrance, we had dashed through. In little more than a minute the whistling of bullets passing our ears told us that the sentries had discovered their mistake in allowing us to pass. The rim of my hat was shot away, and two of the leaden messengers passed through my servant’s jacket; but as neither ourselves nor our steeds were hit, we were soon beyond range of the Pastucian lines. We had, however, two leagues to ride before we could reach the Patriot encampment.

The horrible treachery of the Pastucian officers showed that, even though I had come under a flag of truce, it was very probable that other parties of the enemy whom we might encounter would not scruple to shoot us down. I saw, therefore, that I must endeavour to avoid any of their posts; not an easy matter, as all the roads would be guarded. At present, however, all we could do was to gallop on to the northward. I had fortunately noted the outlines of the mountains on either side as I came along, and was thus able to direct my course. From the unevenness of the ground, we ran, at the rate we were going, a great risk of falling; but it was not a time to stop at trifles. Not only our own lives, but the safety of the army, might depend upon our getting back. There was no doubt that the Pastucians intended to attempt surprising our forces; but this, if I should make good my escape, would be prevented.

Reaching the summit of rising ground, we now saw before us a Pastucian outpost. I could scarcely hope to pass through it without being questioned, as the firing from the lines would have been heard, and its cause suspected. Our best chance of escape, therefore, was to leave the road by turning to the right, and to make our way across the country. I looked behind, feeling sure that we should be pursued; but as yet no enemy was in sight in that direction, nor were we perceived by those ahead. At first the ground was sufficiently even to allow us to continue at full speed; but in a short time it became so rough that we had to make our way with more caution, and finally we were compelled to dismount and lead our horses over the rocks amid thick underwood. We had next to pass through a forest, which covered the side of a rising ground, but here we gained the advantage of being concealed from our enemies. On emerging from the wood we saw below us a broad stream, which separated the two armies; and once on the other side, we should be in comparative safety. My intention, therefore, was to gallop down the bill, and at once to ford or swim the stream, in the hope that we might reach the other side before being discovered by the enemy.

We had just remounted, when I saw to the left a considerable body of the Pastucians, watching, I concluded, a ford in that direction. To the right the river went foaming and roaring over a rocky bed, but there were one or two smooth-looking places, across which I thought it possible we might pass. The question, however, was whether we should be able to reach a practicable spot before the Pastucians could come near enough to fire at us. To escape their observation was almost impossible, so not a moment was to be lost.

“Now, Antonio,” I said, “we must push on for our lives, and pray Heaven that we may reach the bottom of the hill without breaking our necks; then, at the first likely spot, we must push across the river. Can you swim?”

“Si, señor, like a fish.”

“Then, the instant our horses lose their footing, we must slip from their backs and guide them across.”

A momentary glance showed me that the Pastucians had seen us, and were hurrying along the bank of the river to cut us off. Keeping to the right, therefore, we dashed forward, our horses frequently descending several feet at a time, but alighting always on their legs. It was almost by a miracle that we reached the bottom of the steep hill. We then had to gallop along over rough ground until we came to a place which afforded some prospect of crossing. There was no time to survey it narrowly, and leading the way, sure that Antonio would follow, I plunged in—my horse stumbling forward some distance, so that I was afraid he would lose his footing and be carried down the stream. At length he made a plunge, and his whole body sank under the water. I instantly threw myself off and turned his head up the current, holding on by one hand to the saddle, while I swam with the other. Antonio, in the same fashion, followed close at my heels. Below us, to the right, was a roaring waterfall, threatening instant death to us should we go over; but the sagacious animals seemed to understand their danger, and did their utmost to keep away from it.

I could now see the enemy coming along the bank; they were holding their muskets ready to fire directly they got within range of us. The bank for which we were making was steep, but still our brave steeds might climb it, if not too much fatigued by their swim. I shouted to Antonio that we would lead them up, as we should gain in the end by it.

Most thankful was I when at length I found my horse beginning to walk, and I soon set my own feet on the ground. Even then it was no easy matter to get along; while there was the risk that my horse, in his struggles, would strike me with his hoofs.

We landed at last, and taking the reins, I dragged him up the bank. Antonio followed closely. Scarcely had we reached the top when we heard the rattle of musketry, and several bullets struck the ground around us. At some little distance, however, was a wood. If we could gain it, we should be in safety; for should the enemy attempt to swim across the stream their muskets and powder would be damaged, while we should get well ahead before they had time to construct rafts in order to ferry them over.

We threw ourselves upon our horses; but scarcely had I got into my saddle, when I heard a peculiar thud, and felt that a bullet had struck me—whereabouts I could not for the moment tell.

“On, on!” I shouted to Antonio.

“O señor, you are bleeding!” he exclaimed.

“I suppose so,” I answered, “for I felt something strike me; but never mind—on, on!”

We dashed forward; and I was in hopes that I might retain my strength until we could reach the camp. Another volley came rattling after us, but we escaped being hit, and in a few seconds were in the midst of trees, among which we made our way as fast as we could, frequently having to leap or scramble over fallen trunks. But nothing stopped us. It was not likely that we should encounter any of the enemy on the side we had gained; but still it was possible, and it was necessary to keep our eyes about us.

I had been too much excited to feel any pain, but at length I began to experience an uncomfortable sensation, though I would not consent to stop and allow Antonio to bind up my wound. I did not fancy, indeed, that it could be very severe.

“Do, señor, allow me to bind your sash over the wound, or you will faint from loss of blood; then it will be difficult to get you back,” said Antonio.

At length I yielded to his persuasions. We both dismounted; and having tethered our horses, he set scientifically to work to bandage my wound.

“It was high time to do this, señor,” he observed; “a few more minutes, and you would have had no more blood in your veins.”

He tore off a piece of my shirt, and with a pocket handkerchief made a pad, which he bound on my side. This increased the pain, but at the same time it stopped the flow of blood, which was running down my trousers into my boots. I then again mounted, though not without difficulty, and rode on, doing my best to keep my saddle; but I had to confess that I felt very weak. Most thankful was I, therefore, when we came in sight of our camp. Some of the tents were pitched on a long ridge, protected by mountains in their rear, while a steep bank sloped down to the valley. Other tents appeared to the right, also on elevated ground. Altogether, the position was one of considerable strength, and well chosen. Large numbers of troops were exercising in the valley below.

After passing the videttes, as we rode along the southern ridge, overlooking this valley, we saw a horseman approaching us. It proved to be my ci-devant tutor, Mr Laffan,—now holding the rank of captain.

“What has happened, my dear Duncan?” he exclaimed as he saw me. “You look as pale as death. Why, you must be wounded; no doubt about it.”

I gave him a brief account of what had happened; with which he was, of course, horrified.

“We must get the doctor to you, in the first place; then you can make your report to the general.”

But just then we saw the general approaching, so we rode forward to meet him. He would at first scarcely credit the fearful account I had to give; but it was confirmed by Antonio, who described how he had seen me leap from the window, and how the Pastucians had fired at us.

“Have any of the officers escaped?” he asked.

I told him I was afraid every one had been killed.

“We must avenge them,” he said; “such treachery deserves the most complete punishment. Now go, young señor, and get your wound looked to,” he added.

As I rode off, he summoned several of his staff, and issued orders to prepare for an attack.

I was carried to Captain Brown’s tent.

“I must look after you,” said Captain Brown; “for had you not gone, I should most certainly have been murdered with the rest of the poor fellows.”

The news I brought naturally excited the greatest indignation, especially amongst the officers and men of the regiment of the Cauca. All hoped that the Pastucians would attack us that night. The troops were got under arms, and every preparation was made for the battle, though the tents were allowed to stand, in order to deceive the enemy’s scouts.

Juan, hearing that I was wounded, came to see me, and expressed his sorrow.

“I thought I should have had you by my side in to-morrow’s fight,” he said; “for, from what I can hear, if the Pastucians do not attack us we shall attack them, and I hope to punish them severely for their treachery. It is in keeping with their character, and our poor fellows should not have trusted them.”

Neither Juan nor Mr Laffan could stay with me long, as they had to attend to their men, and every officer was needed. Captain Brown and Antonio looked after me, however; and the doctor assured me that, if I remained quiet, I might be able to sit my saddle again in a few weeks.

“A few weeks!” I exclaimed; “I thought a few days would put me to rights, doctor.”

“For the sake of getting another bullet through you,” he observed. “Well, I will patch you up as far as I can; you must do as you think fit.”

I lay awake, expecting every instant to hear the rattle of musketry and the booming sound of our field-pieces, but the night seemed to be passing away quietly. At last I dropped off to sleep.

“If the enemy intended a night attack, they had thought better of it when they found that you had escaped and given us warning,” said Captain Brown, when he awoke me in the morning and gave me the breakfast that Antonio had brought. “When they do come, I must go out with my regiment, whether ill or well; but you, Sinclair, must remain in camp—you will be unable to sit a horse for many days.”

From the excessive weakness I felt, I feared that he was right, but I was much disappointed at the thought of being unable to take part in the expected battle.

I had been sleeping for some time, when I was awakened by the sound of firing. No one was in the tent, for, in spite of his illness, Captain Brown had joined his regiment and gone to the front. Weak as I was, I thought that I could manage to crawl up to some neighbouring height, from whence I might see what was going forward. The sound of the rattling of musketry now came up the valley, with the louder boom of our artillery, so I could resist the temptation no longer. Supporting myself on a stick, therefore, with a spy-glass hanging by a strap over my shoulders, I left the tent and made my way on, sometimes crawling on my hands and knees, until I reached a rock overhanging the camp, where I could lie down and rest the glass on a ledge just above me.

Our troops crowned the heights of the opposite side of the valley. It was not of sufficient elevation, however, to prevent me seeing over it on to the plain beyond, where the Pastucians were moving, endeavouring to force their way to the northward—their main body attacking our centre, while other divisions were marching to the right and left, evidently with the hope of outflanking the Patriots. I could clearly distinguish the different corps. The centre stood their ground. Juan with his cavalry drove back the enemy on the right; while the Cauca regiment, charging, prevented the body threatening our left flank from gaining the advantage they expected.

Frequently the Pastucians were so near that their shot came flying across the valley; but, their powder not being of the best, the bullets had by that time expended their force. Among their leaders I saw several friars; and, mounted on a fine horse, I recognised the bishop. He and his stalwart secretary had crucifixes in their left hands and bright swords in their right, which they kept vehemently flourishing. Now the bishop would hold up his crucifix, and now point with his sword at the Patriots. Then the enemy, with shrieks and shouts, would charge right up to our men; but on each occasion they were driven back with dreadful slaughter. Two or three monks were knocked over; still the bishop and his lieutenant seemed to bear charmed lives. Perhaps superstition had something to do with it, and our men were afraid to fire at a right reverend prelate.

At times I feared that the Patriots would give way, and on one occasion the bishop and his followers had nearly succeeded in breaking our line; but the regiment of the Cauca coming up, flushed with their previous success, charged the enemy and drove them back headlong—the bishop and his secretary, the ex-captain of dragoons, setting the example, and scampering off at a rate which made it difficult to overtake them. I expected to see Juan’s troopers in pursuit, but he was meanwhile hotly engaged with a body of the enemy’s cavalry, which after a sharp contest he defeated,—though they rallied again to cover the retreat of the bishop.

Soon after this I lost sight of the main body of our army, which had advanced; but small parties were seen coming to the rear, bringing in the wounded. I observed one party going towards the cavalry tents, which were directly below me. The men were carrying an officer on a stretcher, and as I brought my glass to bear on them I saw, to my grief, that the wounded man was Captain Laffan. Anxious to low whether he was much hurt, I immediately began my descent from the position, though in doing so, in my weak state, I nearly rolled to the bottom. Fortunately I met one of the camp-followers, who assisted me along, and by his help I got to Laffan’s tent, and found my friend in the hands of the surgeon.

“You are where you should not be, young man!” exclaimed the latter when he saw me.

“But I want to know how my friend is,” I said.

“What, Duncan, my boy!” exclaimed the captain, who recognised my voice. “I appreciate your kindness, but I wish you had remained in bed. I have only a bullet or two through me, and a sabre-cut on my arm dealt by one of those six rascals whom I was attacking. If there had been one less, I should have cut them all down. As it was, three bit the ground. Don’t fear! I shall be all right, with a little plastering and bandaging,—shall I not, doctor?”

“Yes, yes, captain, you’ll do very well; but you must keep quiet for a few hours.—And you, Mr Sinclair, must get back to your tent.”

I endeavoured to obey the surgeon, but, overcome with exertions for which I was ill-fitted, I sank down in a dead faint.

“Now this is too bad of the boy, when I want to be attending his friend,” I heard the doctor say, after he had poured some cordial down my throat, which somewhat restored me. On this, two men whom he summoned took me up and carried me back to Captain Brown’s tent.

Towards evening, a portion of our troops returned to guard the camp, but the main body was advancing in pursuit of the Pastucians.

The next day less satisfactory news arrived. The enemy had been reinforced, and the Patriot army had had no little difficulty in maintaining its position.

The surgeons now advised that the wounded officers who could bear the journey should be carried back to Popayan; and as neither Captain Laffan nor I were likely to be fit for duty for some time to come, we gladly availed ourselves of the opportunity. We were put into litters hung on long poles, supported on men’s shoulders; and the journey occupied several days, though I can give very little account of it. Some of the time, indeed, I was in a semi-somnolent state, caused by weakness.

The only striking scene I can recall was our passage on a bamboo bridge over a river in our course. The army had crossed by a ford lower down, where the water was shallow and the current slight. Here it was of great depth, and the banks of considerable height. As I looked at the slight structure, however, it appeared to me incapable of bearing more than the weight of a single man, while a few cuts with a manchette would have sent it into the torrent below.

I heard Captain Laffan, who was in advance of me, cry out to his bearers, “You don’t mean to say that we are to go over that spider’s-web affair! Why! it looks as if it would give way with the weight of that woman going along it.”

“Have no fears about the matter, señor captain; cavalry have charged over it before now,” was the answer. And, in spite of the captain’s protestations, his bearers tramped on and crossed in safety.

I followed, and though the bamboos creaked ominously they held fast, and no accident occurred to any of the party. It was along such a bridge as this that the gallant Colonel Mackintosh rode at full gallop, when leading on his brave Albions to the capture of La Plata, some time afterwards.

The path we took would only allow of one litter passing at a time, and I had no conversation with the rest of the party; so, when we stopped at night, Laffan ordered his litter to be placed alongside mine. He was in excellent spirits, and seemed to feel his several wounds scarcely so much as I did the single one I had received.

“You are not so well accustomed to it, my boy, as I am. I have no extra flesh to be annoyed, you see; and my parchment-like skin soon unites,” he observed, laughing.

At last we arrived at Popayan. My father looked somewhat horrified when he saw me and heard of my narrow escape.

“I am sorry I allowed Mr Laffan and you to go,” he said. “However, you are here now, and I hope you will soon be brought round.”

“Faith, doctor, but I’m mighty glad to have seen a little more service; and as soon as you can patch me up I’ll be off again to fight for the right cause!” exclaimed our Irish friend.

I inquired for my mother and the rest of our relations.

“Paul Lobo,” said my father, “discovered them in a hut among the mountains. They were all very well, and in tolerable spirits, only somewhat anxious about us. I have sent him back again with a load of necessary articles; and if we receive satisfactory accounts from the army, I trust that they will return as soon as they grow weary of their rough life. Uncle Richard, however, takes very good care of them, and obtains abundance of provisions; but they intend, at all events, shortly to return to the farm, from whence, should the Spaniards again overrun the country, they can make good their retreat.”

Under my father’s careful treatment Mr Laffan and I soon regained our strength, and we became eager to rejoin the army. My father, however, declared that I was not in a fit state to be exposed to the hardships which I should have to endure; but that Mr Laffan might do as he liked.

The news from the south was not altogether satisfactory. Although the Patriots had hitherto been successful, the Pastucians had doggedly stood their ground, and had retreated slowly—probably with the intention of drawing them into some defiles, where they might be attacked from the heights. At this period intelligence was received that the Spaniards were again advancing from the north. On hearing this, the commandant of Popayan immediately sent a despatch entreating the general to return. Instead, however, of the whole army coming, only a few made their appearance to assist in the defence of the town. At the same time, troops had been collected from all quarters, and every effort had been made to bring them into a state of efficiency. Our uncle, Dr Cazalla, was one of the most active in preparing for the defence of the place. He had established a manufactory for gunpowder, on a plan devised by himself. It was one of the articles most required. He had also taught all the blacksmiths who could be found how to repair muskets, and some of the most expert even how to manufacture them.

“It is a sad way of employing our strength and talents,” he observed to my father. “The same exertions rendered to the cause of peaceful industry, might make this country rich and flourishing, instead of which all our energies are being expended in killing one another. Still, we are fighting for the advantage of our children; but the ruin this war has brought upon the country cannot be repaired during our lifetime.”

The officer now in command of the city had seen no service. He may have been a very worthy man, but he was a bad general. I have described the chief square of the town. Most of the houses in it had been turned into barracks, the owners having fled, some because they were Royalists, and others in order to avoid the risk they would incur should the place be captured by either party.

I was now nearly quite well, as was also Mr Laffan, and he had determined to set off next day to rejoin Juan’s corps. He had, however, over-estimated his strength; for that very evening, on returning home, he was seized with a fever. My father insisted that he should at once go to bed. “If you do not,” he said, “I will not answer for your life.”

The dominie obeyed, but very unwillingly. His illness however, as was proved in the sequel, was the means of saving his life. I had gone one afternoon with my father to visit some Royalist friends living in the great square, who had had the courage to remain in the town. My father had attended the family, and not long before had been the means of curing Don Cassiodoro de Corran of a dangerous disease. Though a Spaniard, he was very liberal, and, being respected by all parties, he ventured to remain, and the Patriots had not molested him. The young ladies of the family were playing on their guitars, and two or three other people having come in, we were proposing a dance, when we were startled by the sound of musketry. Presently we heard shouts and cries, and the trampling of horses coming down the principal street leading from the northern gate.

“The Godos! the Godos! the hated Spaniards! The enemy is upon us!” shouted the people, as they rushed across the square.

Unfortunately, the principal officers of the troops were in different parts of the town, paying visits or amusing themselves. The soldiers, without proper leaders, seized their arms and turned out, some coming without ammunition, others leaving their bayonets or swords behind them. They then attempted to form under their sergeants and such officers as remained, but, being ill-disciplined, all was done in a hurry and without order; and many, seized by a panic, made their escape.

Antonio, who, I should have said, had accompanied me, rushed into the house and begged me to fly. My father, however, insisted that I should remain.

“You can do nothing, and will certainly lose your life,” he said.

Antonio, who was a brave fellow, hastened out again to join his comrades. I could not, however, resist going to the window to see what was taking place. Presently a large body of Spanish cavalry rode into the square, putting to flight the soldiers they first encountered, who, scattering in every direction, attempted to seek safety in the houses. Among others I caught sight of Antonio, who was making towards the house he had so lately left, hotly pursued by a Spanish colonel. I determined, if possible, to save Antonio, and asked Don Cassiodoro to speak to the colonel. He was about to do so, when Antonio stopped and cried out—

“I will surrender, señor colonel, if you will spare my life.”

“Well, well! trust to me,” was the answer.

But as the Spaniard spoke he drew a pistol from his holster; on which Antonio, expecting the next moment to be a dead man, made a lunge at him with his long lance, the point wounding the colonel, who the next moment rolled from his horse. Our hero, as may be supposed, did not stop to help him up, but leaping on his steed, galloped off, master of a good horse and all the colonel’s appointments. As he passed our windows he waved his hand to me, and disappeared like lightning down the street. I had great hopes that he would make his escape before the main body of the Spaniards could enter.

Don Cassiodoro, on seeing the colonel on the ground, went out with my father and brought him into the house, that his wound might be attended to. The spear had torn his coat, but, excepting a slight scratch on the side, had not otherwise harmed him. He begged, however, that his wound might be dressed; when Don Cassiodoro advised that he should go to bed, which he appeared very willing to do.

I waited, in hopes that the Patriot officers would rally the troops and drive out the Spaniards before the arrival of the main body; for, after all, those who had entered formed but a small party, and were unaccompanied by infantry. So completely panic-stricken, however, had our men become, that it was found impossible to make head against the Spaniards; indeed, a considerable number of them had fled from the town. Most of the officers, as well as the men, saw that their wisest course would be to retreat to the southward, where they could join the army. Thus Popayan once more fell into the hands of the Spaniards.

Chapter Seven.

Don Cassiodoro conceals my father and me—Fearful treatment of the inhabitants by the Spanish soldiery—I visit our house in disguise—Mr Laffan’s mode of preserving the house—I meet Paul Lobo in disguise—News of my relations—He goes towards our home—I visit the market—Nearly betray myself—Paul tells us that Dr Cazalla and the Monteverdes are made prisoners and sent to Bogota—Plans for rescuing them—I return to Don Cassiodoros—My father determines to send Mr Laffan and me to Bogota—The Spaniards search for my father—Our host conceals him and me—I return to our house and prepare with Mr Laffan for our expedition—I go back to Don Cassiodoro’s, and assume the character of a young english milord—The dominie and I, attended by Domingo and Lion, start from the hotel—Journey along the valley of the Cauca—Stop at Calli.

A reign of terror now commenced in Popayan. The city was filled with Spanish troops, which took up their quarters in the houses lately occupied by the Patriots. A considerable number of the latter made their escape, but numbers were cut down in the streets, and others were captured and thrust into prison. The square was literally strewed with the dead.

My father proposed to return home, but Don Cassiodoro insisted that he should remain.

“You will be safe here,” he said; “for no one will suspect me of being capable of harbouring disaffected persons; and I owe you a debt of gratitude, which I can only partially repay by concealing you from your enemies.”

“But I am a non-combatant, and it is my duty to attend to the wounded,” said my father.

“Can you say as much for your son?” remarked Don Cassiodoro. “Besides, you would have no opportunity of attending to your duties, as you would be immediately seized and sent to prison. General Calzada has been directed by Murillo to capture all suspected persons, and to forward them to Bogota for trial—and I may say, for execution. Be advised by me—remain in safety here. When you are not found at your house, it will be supposed that you have fled from the city, and the search after you will be relaxed.”

My father at length consented to follow the advice of Don Cassiodoro, who promised to keep him informed of all that was taking place. There was, however, a risk that the Spanish colonel, whose wound he had dressed, would inform against him. The only hope was, that the colonel, who was a stranger, did not know who he was, as he spoke Spanish like a native, and Don Cassiodoro had introduced him as his family physician, without mentioning his name.

I had, by my father’s directions, resumed my civilian dress, as had also Mr Laffan, who was, I should have said, at this time safe in our house. There was, however, much probability that the Spanish soldiers, on entering to plunder the house, might wantonly kill him, and burn it down.

That night, it may be supposed, was one of intense anxiety. We could gain no tidings of any of our friends, for had we gone out the danger would have been great, as the Spanish soldiers were ranging through the town, constantly firing at the windows of houses supposed to be inhabited by Patriots, and killing all the persons they met with in the streets. We were especially anxious about our uncle, Dr Cazalla, and also about Señor Monteverde and Dona Dolores. They had all been in the city on the previous day, and, we feared, could not have been warned of the entry of the Spaniards in sufficient time to make their escape.

All night long the sounds of shots were heard in different parts of the town, and fearful shrieks and cries arose as some of the unfortunate citizens were being dragged forth from their dwellings, including old men, women, and even little children, to be slaughtered by the savage soldiery; while here and there great sheets of flame shot up, showing that a number of houses had been set on fire. Such were the terrible scenes which took place, not only at Popayan, but in nearly all the principal towns of the province, when they fell into the hands of the Spaniards.

A guard had been placed at the door of Don Cassiodoro’s house by General Calzada, under the plea that a Spanish officer lay wounded within. The house was thus, indeed, safe from attack, but we were effectually prevented from going out to obtain intelligence.

Towards morning the trumpet sounding recalled the soldiers to their quarters, and we could distinctly see them crossing the square laden with plunder. The Spanish general, having frightened the inhabitants into something like submission, was now endeavouring to restore order among the troops. Had the Patriot army been near enough to enter the city during the night, they might have retaken it, and captured or destroyed every one of their enemies.

The next day the Spanish colonel, feeling himself very well—indeed, his wound was of the most trivial nature—desired to go forth, that he might visit the general and report his proceedings. Don Cassiodoro, who was anxious to get rid of him, did not object, and the colonel took his departure. As soon as he was gone, I begged that my father would allow me to go and learn what had become of Mr Laffan, Dr Cazalla, and other friends.

“But you will run a risk of being captured, if not of being injured or killed,” said my father.

I told Don Cassiodoro what I wished to do, and one of the young ladies suggested that I should put on the livery of a stable-boy who happened to have been sent away into the country sick some time before. I gladly accepted the proposal, and José’s dress being procured, I found that it fitted me exactly. Don Cassiodoro charged me to refrain from answering questions; but if pressed, I was to say I was one of his servants. It was proposed that I should wait until the evening, as there would be less risk of being recognised; but dressed as I was, I thought that no one could possibly know me: besides, poor Mr Laffan might in the meantime be starving. Before leaving, I filled my pockets with eatables, supposing it likely that all the provisions in the house had been carried away.

Taking a whip in my hand, I went out by a side door when no one was near, and then walked along with as jaunty an air as I could assume. A number of people of the lower orders were moving about, but none of the citizens who had escaped were anywhere to be seen. There were also soldiers with parties of slaves or Indians, whom they were compelling to carry off the dead bodies in order that they might be buried outside the town. Foraging-parties had also been sent out, and were now returning, driving in the peasantry with provisions, for the general had given orders to establish a market in the place. The crowd was an advantage, as I was able to make my way without being noticed.

I hurried on, and soon reached our own house, which appeared not to have been entered. All the doors and windows were fast closed, though I saw that they had been struck by several musket-balls. Going round to the courtyard, I climbed over the gate, a feat I had performed often before. I knocked gently, when a bark from within assured me that Lion was acting as guardian of the house.

“Who’s there?” asked a voice which I recognised as that of Mr Laffan.

“Duncan,” I replied; and presently I heard the bolts withdrawn. Mr Laffan started back, for he did not recognise me; but Lion, rushing past him, began to leap up and lick my face and hands.

“For the moment I didn’t know you, Duncan,” said Mr Laffan. “Thankful I am that you have escaped; for I have been in a mighty fright about you and your father since the Spaniards entered the place. Come in, come in, and tell me all about it.” I then went in, and he again closed and bolted the door.

“We have been equally anxious about you,” I replied; “how did you escape?”

“By bolting all the doors so that the villains could not break them open without a battering-ram, then hanging a British flag out of the window and shouting, ‘Vive el Roy! If any one comes in here, he will bring down the vengeance of England on his head.’ I don’t know which had the most effect, the flag, the loyal shout, or the threat of vengeance, but one party after another of the rascals turned away; so, you see, if you and your father had been here you would have escaped. Poor Lion and I, however, have been somewhat on short commons. I shared what I could find in the house with the faithful brute, as was but fair.”

“I suspected that such might be the case,” I said, producing what I had brought in my pockets; of which Mr Laffan eagerly ate a portion, and bestowed the rest upon Lion, who gobbled it up in a few seconds, showing how hungry he was. As what I had brought could do little more than stimulate their appetites, I offered at once to go out and buy some provisions, which I could do very well in my character of a stable-boy. Fortunately I had some money in my pocket. I started immediately, intending afterwards to visit Dr Cazalla, as also the house in which Señor Monteverde and Dona Dolores had been residing, although I did not expect to find any of them.

As I was proceeding along the streets, I saw an old black man. His only clothing was a broad-brimmed hat, and a pair of loose drawers fastened round his waist by a girdle, to which was hung his manchette. He came along driving a mule laden with bamboo-canes, such as are constantly sold in the town for piping and other purposes. I was going to pass him, when I saw him look very hard at me, and heard him utter my name in a low tone of voice, which I thought I recognised. A smile passed over his countenance, and on looking round and observing no one near, he said—

“I am better disguised dan you, Señor Duncan.”

By his voice I at once recognised Paul Lobo.

“Are my mother, sister, Don Ricardo, and the rest well?” I asked.

“Yes, yes, I hab a good account to give ob dem,” he replied; “but tell me, has el señor doctor escaped, and is de house safe?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Den come on with me, for I hab much to tell you, and we may be discovered if seen speaking here.”

I said that I had to go to the market and obtain some food, and that I wished to inquire about my uncle, Dr Cazalla, and the Monteverdes.

“Buy de food, by all means, but do not venture to make furder inquiries; I can tell you all you want to know,” he said.

Seeing some one approaching, he drove on his mule, singing out, “Who wants to buy canes—sound straight canes?” though he did not stop for any one to answer him.

I hastened to the market-place. Provisions were but scant, the soldiers having appropriated most of what was brought in. However, I got as much as I wanted, although I nearly betrayed myself by the ignorance I displayed in making my purchases. With a basket on my shoulder, which I had bought, I returned homewards. Several persons cast inquiring glances at me; and a Spanish sergeant eyed me very narrowly, I thought. But I went whistling along, as if free from care, and he did not stop to put questions to me. I was thankful when I got back to the courtyard, where I found Paul Lobo standing by his mule. Both he and Mr Laffan, and Lion too, were very glad to get some of the provisions I had brought.

“And now, Paul,” I said, “what information have you to give me?”

“Berry sorry to say, not good. I hear as I come ’long dat all de gates are guarded, so dat no one can go out ob de city; dat de general gib orders to take up eberybody in de place who can read and write, no matter who dey are. They hab already got hold ob el señor Doctor Cazalla, Señor Monteverde, and his daughter. General Calzada, him pretty good man and not like to shoot people, so dey send dem all to General Murillo at Bogota; and he, dey say, kill for de pleasure ob killing. Depend ’pon it, dey come to look for señor doctor; so he mus’ hide away, and not show his face till de Patriots come back—and dat dey do, I hope, ’fore long.”

“This is indeed bad news; I will go back to my father and tell him what you say, Paul,” I answered. “But do you think it would be possible to rescue Doctor Cazalla and the Monteverdes?”

Paul replied that they had already, from what he could learn, been sent out of the city, and were on their way to Bogota.

I proposed to hasten immediately to the army and let Juan know, in the hope that, by a forced march, he might be able to intercept the escort and rescue the prisoners. But both Paul and Mr Laffan declared that it would be impossible: that I could not obtain a horse, as the Spaniards had taken possession of all those found in the city; and that if I could get one, I should not be able to pass through the gates of the city.

We talked over the subject, but could think of no plan likely to succeed. I was in despair. I felt, however, that I must immediately return to my father and give him the information Paul had brought; he would, perhaps, be able to devise some plan more likely to succeed than any I could form. As it was certain that our house would be searched, I advised Mr Laffan to try and gain some place of concealment where he and Lion might remain, assuring him that Paul Lobo would find the means of supplying them with food.

“No, no; I’ll stop and defend the house to the last. The plundering rascals will hesitate before they attempt to break-in,” he answered. “We have four muskets and three brace of pistols, and I shall be able to give a good account of a dozen or move of them if they make the attempt. If they come with authority to search for your father, I intend that they shall find me seated at table writing despatches to the English Government; and I shall have the same flag I used before hung over my head. If they inquire for the doctor, I’ll tell them the fact, that he left this house some hours before they came into the city; and that if he has a swift horse, he is probably leagues away to the north, south, east, or west, to join his family. If that does not satisfy them, I’ll shrug my shoulders, send a puff of smoke in their faces from my cigar, and go on writing my despatches.”

I could not help laughing at the honest Irishman’s coolness. His plan seemed the best that could be adopted, and I hoped that it might succeed. Paul said he should remain with his mule in the courtyard, and should the Spaniards come to the house, he would move away crying his wares, hoping thus to escape being questioned.

Fortunately I had told neither Mr Laffan nor Paul that my father was at Don Cassiodoro’s; although, seeing me in the livery of that family, they might have suspected where he was. As it was important to get back to Don Cassiodoro’s without delay, and finding that no one was near, I slipped out at the gate, and passing along some back streets, made my way to his house.

My father was greatly grieved when he heard that Doctor Cazalla and the Monteverdes had been arrested and sent off to Bogota. He was too well acquainted with General Murillo’s bloodthirsty nature not to feel the greatest possible fear for their safety.

“That Spanish tiger has sworn to stamp out every spark of liberty in the land, and to destroy all those who are capable of rekindling it,” he observed; “we must, however, try what can be done. Let me consider.”

He was silent for a quarter of an hour or more. At last, looking up, he said, “Duncan, I can trust to your judgment and energy, and also to those of Mr Laffan. I will send you and him to Bogota, with letters to various friends who are likely to interest themselves on behalf of the prisoners. They may be the means of preserving their lives for the present, and of ultimately obtaining their liberty.”

“I am ready to start this instant,” I replied; “so is Mr Laffan, I am sure, for the excitement he has gone through has cured his fever. We may push on ahead, and get there before them.”

“Neither are you nor Mr Laffan in a fit state to make a forced march,” he answered; “you must preserve your health, else you may be unable to render the service you desire. I intend that you should travel in the character of a young English gentleman, with Mr Laffan as your tutor. You must speak no Spanish; and he knows quite enough to get on perfectly well.”

We had just arranged the whole plan, and I had agreed to go back and explain it to Mr Laffan, when Don Cassiodoro hurriedly entered the room.

“My dear doctor,” he exclaimed, “some Spanish officials are at the door, and from the information I have received I fear that they have come to arrest you. Follow me instantly. Take up these writing materials and everything that belongs to you; there’s not a moment to lose. Let your son come too; were he to be seen, they would at once conclude that you were here.”

Don Cassiodoro leading the way, my father and I followed him to an upper story, and entered an unfurnished room. “If the don requires us to stay here, we shall certainly be discovered,” I thought. But I was mistaken. Drawing aside a panel in the wall, he disclosed a recess; then pointing upwards, he showed us a broad shelf at the top.

“How are we to get up there?” asked my father.

Don Cassiodoro pulled down a small ladder. “Draw this up after you,” he said, “and place it along the side. You will find that there is a cover which may be let down, and which will completely conceal you. Should those seeking you chance to discover the panel and enter the recess, they might search round it, and yet not suppose that you were within.”

My father wrung the don’s hand and expressed his gratitude. We immediately climbed up, and drawing the ladder after us, then let down the lid,—for so I may call it,—which made the surface look exactly like a broad beam running from one side of the house to the other. A more perfect hiding-place could scarcely have been devised, as no stranger, unless treachery had been at work, was likely to discover it.

We heard Don Cassiodoro’s footsteps as he descended the stairs. Soon afterwards voices from below reached us. The door of the room had been ostentatiously left open. Don Cassiodoro’s voice rose above that of his unwelcome visitors as he complained of the insult offered him, and at the want of confidence placed in his loyalty. The officers must have been, by some means or other, informed that my father was in the house, as they persisted in searching every room.

“He is nowhere below, but we shall probably unkennel him in the upper story,” I heard one of them say as they mounted the stairs.

They at last entered the room.

“Where can that rascally English doctor be?” exclaimed one of them. “He was too wise to hide in his own house; but if he is not here, where is he?”

“Never fear, we shall catch him somewhere,” observed another; “and we shall have the pleasure of seeing the Republican heretic shot, to repay us for our trouble.”

From these remarks I knew that our house must have been searched directly after I left it, and that I had had a very narrow escape. I was in hopes that something would have been said to inform me of what had happened to Mr Laffan; but no remark was made on the subject. I could only hope that Mr Laffan’s plan had succeeded, and that they had been afraid to touch him. The long-coated, grave-looking dominie would never have been suspected of having lately acted the part of a dashing lancer.

We lay listening and perfectly still, for as we could hear everything that was said, we knew that the slightest noise might have betrayed us.

“Are you convinced, gentlemen, that the English doctor is not here?” I heard Don Cassiodoro ask. “Now, I desire you to apologise to me for your intrusion. The general knows best whether it would be politic to shoot a skilful surgeon and an Englishman, who is willing and able to heal the wounds of the loyal subjects of King Ferdinand as well as of rebels. My belief is, that although he may love liberty in the abstract, he is too much engaged in his professional duties to interfere in any way in politics.”

At length we heard the front door close, and Don Cassiodoro returned to the recess to tell us that we might come down, but that my father must be ready to return to his place of concealment at a moment’s notice. “And you, young sir,” he said, turning to me, “it will be wise in you to keep out of the way of General Calzada; for, should he find out whose son you are, he might seize you as a hostage for the doctor.”

On this, my father told Don Cassiodoro that he was anxious to send me and my tutor to Bogota, and that under the circumstances it would be safer for us to travel under assumed names.

Don Cassiodoro at once agreed to render all the assistance in his power; for he saw that the sooner I could set off the better. So, in the first place, as it was necessary to obtain a couple of horses, he immediately undertook to supply us from his own stud, and also to advance any money we might require.

While my father was writing the letters, I hastened back to our own house, being still dressed as a groom. I found Mr Laffan seated at the table as he proposed, with a flag over his head. The house, as I had fully expected, had been visited and searched, but had not been plundered. Probably the officers had been forbidden to plunder it, in order that my father might be the more easily enticed back.

On hearing the proposed plan, Mr Laffan sprang to his feet, and declared that he was ready at once to proceed. The question was, What was to be done with the house?

“Leave dat to me,” said Paul; “me find honest woman who fight like one panther ’fore she let any one come into de house.”

As a precautionary measure, we concealed all the most valuable articles we could find; leaving, however, a few silver forks and spoons to mislead plunderers, who might suppose that they were the only things in the house worth taking.

The dominie—for so I may again call him—having dressed in as appropriate a style as possible, as the tutor of a young English milord, and Lobo having warned us that the coast was clear, we left the house to proceed to a posada where Don Cassiodoro had arranged to send the horses. I carried the valise containing Mr Laffan’s wearing apparel. My own was in the provision-basket on my back. The load, I must say, was rather a heavy one. Lion rushed out with us. At first I thought of leaving him as a guard to the house, but he seemed to have made up his mind to come, and Mr Laffan advised me to take him. “The noble brute may render us good service on our journey, and I would sooner have him than half a dozen guards, who would be very likely to rob us, or run away if we were attacked.” Lion wagged his tail and showed every sign of satisfaction when he understood that I intended to take him with me.

On arriving at the posado, the dominie put a piece of money into my hand, as if to pay me for having carried his valise; and I heard him tell the landlord that he was waiting for a young English milord, who was anxious to return home by way of Bogota. I then hurried back to Don Cassiodoro’s, where I resumed my proper costume. To prevent my being recognised, my father had provided a pair of huge whiskers and moustaches, and by careful painting he made me look considerably older than I was. With the aid of a few additions to my costume, I certainly looked as I had never done before. Even the young ladies, when I came downstairs, did not at first recognise me. My father, having given me all needful instructions, supplied me with a purse and the letters he had written; while Don Cassiodoro put into my hands a passport, which he had obtained at considerable risk of implicating himself. He then ordered a servant to strap my valise on the saddle of my horse, while another mounted servant led the horse intended for the dominie.

“That man is as true as steel,” observed Don Cassiodoro. “You cannot proceed without an attendant, and I have directed him to accompany you. You will find Domingo of the greatest use. He believes you to be what you profess to be. I have charged him not to let it be known that he is in my service, so as to prevent inconvenient questions.”

We reached the posada without being stopped.

“I am so glad my dear young lord has come,” said the dominie, turning to the host; “for though the Royalists have gained the day at present, we do not know how soon those dreadful Republicans may have the upper hand.”

“Truly, truly,” answered the landlord, bowing to me. “Milord will be glad to return to England, where all, I am told, are true Royalists.”

“Milord does not understand much Spanish,” observed Mr Laffan; “we must wish you farewell.”

As we might have risked discovery by further delay, we rode forward; Domingo, armed to the teeth, following us. Mr Laffan, I found, had two brace of pistols in his holsters, and a sword, which he kept concealed under his cloak. I, of course, carried one in my character of a young gentleman of fortune, and I also had a brace of pistols; so that we were tolerably well-armed. Mr Laffan, who had taken the passport, produced it with a flourish at the gates, and begged that milord might not be troubled with unnecessary delay. The officer on guard bowed politely, and we were allowed to pass. I had little expected to get on so well, but no one seemed to suspect our character.

As soon as we were out of sight of the city, we pushed forward, anxious to get as far as we could before nightfall. Our road was to be due north for a considerable distance, along the banks of the Cauca. After this we were to turn to the right over the Quindio mountains to reach Bogota. Our great object was to push on to such a distance from Popayan, that I might not run the risk of being recognised by any persons who knew me. The letters I carried were couched in such language, that had they fallen into the hands of the Spaniards I should still have been safe. They spoke of me as a young Englishman of fortune who had come over to see the beauties of the country, and who proposed to spend a short time at Bogota on his way down the Magdalena to Cartagena, from whence he expected to embark for England. They requested that the friends to whom they were addressed would render him every assistance in carrying out the objects of his journey, especially in obtaining any information he might desire. They were mostly addressed to well-known Royalists, still better to conceal my real object.

I cannot stay to describe the numerous incidents of the journey. The first night we stopped at the house of the padre of a village. I found him to be a man of liberal sentiments, from what he said to Mr Laffan; though, keeping up my character, I did not venture to speak. At first I felt surprised at this; but I afterwards discovered that he possessed a Bible, which he constantly studied.

“You Englishmen appreciate the book,” he observed to my tutor; “but I have, on several occasions, been compelled to hide it, lest I should be accused of being an enemy to Spain.”

Continuing our journey, we travelled along the base of the Cordilleras, which towered to the skies on our right. The scenery was most magnificent. From a height we had reached we cast our eyes over the beautiful valley, with one or two large villages near us, and the pretty town of Calli in the distance. We made our way towards it, though it was somewhat out of our direct course. The inhabitants were generally supporters of the Liberal cause, and had suffered greatly from the Spaniards. As we got close to the bridge we stopped to inquire which was the principal inn in the place. Crossing the bridge, we rode through the streets of the neat little town in search of a posada, at which we agreed that it would be more prudent to stop than with a resident, as I might thus be able to gain much more information from the conversation of the visitors than I could at the house of a private person. Everywhere the town exhibited traces of the visit of an enemy. Many of the houses were deserted, others had been burned to the ground. Several were in ruins, and the walls, in many places, were bespattered with bullet-marks.

Domingo took our horses round to the shed which served as a stable, while we entered the public room, the centre of which was occupied by a long table with rough benches on either side, at which several persons—merchants, small traders, and carriers—were seated. Mr Laffan requested to be supplied with food, and asked if we could have a room in which our hammocks could be slung up.

The landlord assured him that the whole house was at our command.

“Yes,” said Mr Laffan, “but we would rather have a room to ourselves. This young English milord likes to be quiet.”

The landlord examined me with a curious look, and said he should be happy to clear out a room at present occupied by some of his family.

I asked Mr Laffan to tell me what the landlord had said, and in reply begged to assure him that I would not on any account put his estimable family to so much inconvenience; that we would, therefore, sling our hammocks at the further end of the hall.

He was not long in placing a very fairly concocted olla-podrida before us. It consisted of beef, fowls, bacon, mutton, and a variety of vegetables, all cooked together, and tolerably free from garlic. The landlord remarked, as he tasted it before us, “I am aware that the English do not like much of that root, as I discovered by observing the expressions of disgust exhibited by the countenances of some British officers for whom I had prepared a dish with rather more, perhaps, than the usual allowance of seasoning. One of them declared that he was poisoned, and compelled me, at the point of his sword, to eat the whole of it; while another clapped the dish upside down on my head, and insisted on my producing some other food of a less savoury character. I have remembered ever since that Englishmen do not like garlic.”

While the landlord was talking, I endeavoured to listen to the conversation going on at the other part of the table. I gathered from it some satisfactory news. Bolivar was again in arms, and at the head of a considerable force, with which he had been successful in Venezuela, and was marching towards New Granada. I earnestly hoped that he might capture Bogota before the Spaniards had put our friends to death. Once or twice I was tempted to ask questions, and only recollected just in time that I was supposed not to understand Spanish. Some of the men at the supper-table eyed me, I fancied, narrowly; but whether they suspected who I was, or were considering whether it would not be profitable to rob the young English milord, I could not make out.

Mr Laffan and Domingo having secured our hammocks, we turned in, with our pistols by our sides, while Lion took up his usual post under where we lay.

Chapter Eight.

Our journey continued—A snake killed—Abundance of animal life—Paucity of inhabitants—Black herdsmen—Vegetable productions of the Cauca Valley—Beautiful scene near Cartago—We enter Cartago—A wretched posada—Mr Laffan searches for carriers—A suspicious character—The Silleros—Arrangements for crossing the mountains—The officer tells us of the escape of Dona Dolores—A midnight robber—Lion keeps guard—We have cause to be uneasy—The Spanish officer starts before us—Our journey over the Quindio Mountains commenced—A ruined village.

We left Calli at daybreak, before the rest of the guests were astir. I was not altogether satisfied that we had escaped detection; and from the appearance of some of the characters at the supper-table, I thought it possible that an attempt might be made to rob us. How Domingo might act, I could not tell; but I was very sure that, in the event of being attacked by banditti, Mr Laffan would prove to them that they had caught a Tartar. The road we traversed was as bad as could be. Sometimes our horses descended the hills almost on their haunches; at others we were compelled to dismount and lead them up the steep inclines. We had several streams to cross; some we were able to ford, others were spanned by wooden bridges. One of these was thrown over a rapid river which flowed at the foot of some steep and huge rocks, above which was a level space with inaccessible-hills on either side.

“That would form a good military post,” observed Mr Laffan, pointing to the spot. “Either our friends or our enemies will take possession of it one of these days, and it will prove a hard matter to drive them out.”

I noted the spot, as well as his remark.

At the next stream we came to, which was a more tranquil one than the former, we had an adventure. As we were crossing it, we observed a large snake swimming towards us. On it came, with its head and part of its body raised out of the water. On nearing us it stopped, apparently watching our motions. I then knew, by the black cross which I observed on its neck, that it was of the species called aquis, one of the boldest and most venomous of the serpents of that region. Mr Laffan, not liking the creature’s appearance, and naturally thinking it intended to attack us, drew his pistol.

“You had better not, señor,” cried Domingo; “you are very likely to miss, and the brute will come after us. Let me take it in hand. Please hold my horse.”

Domingo dismounting, ran a short distance, to a place where we saw a number of bamboos growing. He cut one with his sword, and then advanced to fulfil his promise. The aquis had all the time remained perfectly quiet, with its eyes fixed on us. As Domingo approached, the creature put out its forked tongue, and raised itself higher in the water, as if preparing to make a dart at its enemy. On this, Domingo retired to a distance; but he and the snake continued to watch each other for some minutes. Suddenly the aquis turned round, and began to swim to the other side of the river. The moment Domingo observed its head turned from him he rushed to the bank, and before it got beyond his reach gave it three or four tremendous blows with the bamboo, which made it turn on its back. Then following up the attack, he succeeded in killing the creature. On measuring it, we found that it was upwards of six feet in length.

“It never does to run from these creatures,” observed Domingo, as he remounted; “they will follow even a horse for a league or more, and move as rapidly, provided the ground is not too dry.”

In the meadows we observed large numbers of fine cattle.

“Ah, señor, you might have seen twice as many before the Spaniards passed by,” said Domingo; “but they slaughtered all they could get, sometimes merely for the sake of their tongues. It is a pity that the people should have rebelled against their lawful sovereign; and this is the consequence.”

Mr Laffan made no reply. It was as well, for our purpose, that Domingo should appear so loyal.

In the woods, and often flying across the valley, we saw various kinds of birds, macaws and parrots; some of the latter had yellow plumage on the breast, wings, and tail, and red feathers on the head. We also met with wild turkeys, grouse, and partridges in large numbers; and we frequently caught sight of deer scampering over the hills. But sometimes, during a whole day, we did not pass a single house of any size, while the cottages of the peasantry were scattered at long distances from each other.

As we proceeded down the valley, however, we saw a number of neat country-houses and cottages; while the soil appeared to be fruitful in the extreme, and nothing could surpass the beauty of the scenery. The numbers of the cattle also increased. They were under the charge of black slaves, who were riding about looking after them. We saw neither Creoles nor Indians: the latter had made their escape to the forests and mountains, and the former had been carried off to serve in either the one army or the other. The appearance of the blacks on horseback was singular. On their heads they wore large straw hats, while their bodies were covered by a cloak made of rushes, which served to keep out both the heat and the rain. Their legs were bare, but their feet were protected by sandals, to which were fastened spurs of huge dimensions. Each man carried by his left side a long manchette, or sword-knife, secured to his girdle. They were all galloping as hard as they could go, wheeling their horses round and then halting in a moment.

“Those fellows would make useful cavalry, if they could be got to face the enemy; and I should like to find myself at the head of a thousand of them,” observed Mr Laffan. “We should give a good account of any of the Spanish lancers we might fall in with.”

Soon after this, on the shores of a small lake, we came upon a curious tree, which Mr Laffan pronounced to be the wax-palm, or the Ceroxilon andicola. From its appearance I should have supposed that it could only grow in the very warmest regions; but it is of so happy a constitution that it flourishes equally well in temperate and in cold climates. We afterwards found some on the mountains of Quindio. They are the most hardy of the Palm tribe: where others would perish, or assume a dwarfed or stunted form, the wax-palm raises its stem, in the form of an elegantly-wrought column, a hundred and fifty feet high, with a splendid leafy plume. From the leaves and trunk exudes a grey and acrid matter, which on drying assumes the nature of wax as pure as that of bees, but rather more brittle. I have seen tallow-candles surrounded by a thin coating of this wax, which, not melting as rapidly as the tallow, prevents the candle from guttering.

The valley of the Cauca abounds with bamboo-cane, which serves a variety of purposes. With the bamboo the inhabitants build their houses, and erect a pretty kind of fence around their farms. The peasantry make with it sweet-sounding flutes; it furnishes them also with drinking-cups, water-buckets, and bird-cages, chairs and baskets, blow-pipes and arrows. With the canes also large rafts are built for carrying cocoa and other produce down the rivers even as far as the ports of embarkation, where the rafts themselves are disposed of to advantage. As cattle abound, ox-hides are made use of for all sorts of domestic purposes. Tables are covered with them, and also sofas, chairs, bedsteads, doors, and trunks. Cut into strips, they form lassoes, greatly in use among the cattle-keepers of the plains. They are formed into bottles, too, for wine and chica; and with them also, stretched on poles, hand-barrows are constructed for carrying earth and rubbish.

We met in this region a number of horses and mules without ears, and others with their ears lying flat on their necks. On inquiring the reason, we found that this was occasioned by an insect like a wood-louse getting inside them, and which is as prolific as the chigua in the toes of human beings. These insects gradually devour the nerves of the ear, which then falls off. To prevent this, the muleteers rub the inside of the animal’s ears with hog’s lard, to which the insect has a decided aversion.

Even this paradise was not perfect. We caught sight of several tiger-cats, jaguars, and pumas, which come down and commit depredations on the flocks and herds; and occasionally a huge black bear will descend from his mountain lair and pay a visit to the hog-pen, though he runs a risk of being shot by the watchful owner.

Having all my life lived in the high regions of New Granada, I was not prepared for the perfectly tropical scenery I now for the first time beheld. I remember one spot by the side of the Cauca, just before we reached Cartago. The sepos, or rope-like vines, hung from the lofty branches of the trees, and beautifully-coloured parasitical plants were suspended in the air. Gaily-tinted macaws flew across the blue sky, and other birds of the gayest plumage flitted here and there. There were several plants of the cacti species on the borders of the stream, on the shores of which were seen the bamboo-dwellings of the inhabitants, with palms and other graceful trees rising above them; while long-tailed monkeys swung to and fro on the creepers, which seemed arranged specially for their amusement.

Soon after this we reached the town of Cartago, from which we were to strike upwards over the Quindio mountains. The town was of considerable size, and at one time, I have no doubt, was as flourishing as others in the province. The curse of war had fallen upon it. Many of the houses were empty,—their owners having been killed on their own thresholds, or carried off to be shot, or sent to work at the fortifications of Cartagena or other places on the coast. I saw here a larger number of slaves—negroes and negresses—than at any other place we had passed through. The latter were dressed in blue petticoats, without any other garments. They came in numbers from the river-side, carrying huge pitchers or leathern bottles of water on their heads, and walking gracefully and perfectly upright. I remember a group we passed in the outskirts of the town, who appeared to take life very easily: the women, in the most scanty raiment, with huge necklaces, were seated on the ground chatting and laughing; the men, their only garment a shirt, were lazily smoking their cigars. Forgetting that I was to be ignorant of Spanish, I spoke to them, when, turning round, I saw a person passing in the uniform of an officer. He looked at me for a moment, but making no remark, passed on, and I thought no more about the matter.

Only a very small remnant, I should say, of the ancient inhabitants now remain, though the traces of their former existence are everywhere to be seen, showing that at one time they must have been very numerous. They have been destroyed in vast numbers by the severity of their relentless and avaricious taskmasters. Thousands and tens of thousands of poor Indians have perished from famine, the sword, and the pestilence, or have died with hearts broken by the loss of liberty, or from being compelled to labour in the gold-mines with constitutions unequal to the performance of their hard task-work.

We were, of course, anxious not to stay an hour longer at Cartago than was necessary; and yet it might seem strange to the inhabitants that an Englishman, travelling for the sake of amusement, should not wish to remain a sufficient time in the town even to form a correct opinion of it. The posada was a wretched one, but there were few people in it. The old woman who kept it declared that the Spaniards had carried off all her property; indeed, except a few red earthenware plates, I could see nothing on which our supper could be served. I sat down in a corner of the room, and pretended to be reading an English book; while Mr Laffan went out to arrange for guides, silleros, and peons, to enable us to travel over the Quindio mountains. From what our old landlady said, I guessed that she was a Liberal; but, of course, I thought it best not to trust her. The silleros are chairmen, the peons carry the baggage. It was not necessary, we found, to leave our horses behind, though it might be dangerous to ride them. At the same time, if it had not been important to keep up our character as travellers, I should not have hesitated to push over the mountains with a single guide to show the way.

While I was waiting for Mr Laffan’s return, a Spanish officer entered the posada, and in a dictatorial tone ordered supper, although it was an early hour for that meal. He then eyed me narrowly, and inquired of the old woman who I was. It struck me that he was the person I had seen while I was talking to the natives.

“An English milord going over the Quindio mountains to Bogota,” was the answer—being the information Domingo had given her.

Turning towards me, he inquired if such were the case. I was very nearly replying, when I remembered that I did not speak Spanish, and I made signs to let him know that my companion would soon return and inform him all about the matter. Finding that he could make nothing of me, he paced up and down the room, his sword clanking on the hard mud floor. Whenever he came near me, Lion gave a low growl, and appeared as if about to spring on him. There was something in the tone of his voice, or the appearance of the man, which evidently the sagacious animal did not like. Soon after an orderly appeared, conducting a sillero and two peons—the sillero was a fine strong-built man in a loose dress.

The captain told them that he meant to start next morning at daybreak to go across the mountains, and that they must reach Ibaque in five days.

“Impossible,” was the answer. “Six is the least in which the journey can be performed. Except with the greatest exertion, it requires seven.”

“I must start at daybreak to-morrow morning, and my orders must be obeyed. Go! the sergeant will look after you.”

The soldier retired with the men, who, I found, were his prisoners; and in a short time Mr Laffan appeared, and said that he had arranged with two silleros and five peons, three of whom were to lead the horses, and the other two to carry our baggage.

“Domingo will have to walk, and so must we, if we wish to push on fast,” he observed. “They can go on ahead, and we can overtake them at the foot of the mountains,” he added.

This was satisfactory intelligence. I then told him what I had heard the Spanish officer saying; that he seemed an ill-tempered fellow; and that we must be on our guard towards him.

The captain, after having discussed his supper, put the same questions to Mr Laffan that he had put to me.

My tutor told him the story agreed on. “Oh!” he said, “you will follow me, for I must carry intelligence of the proceedings of the rascally rebels to Bogota.”

“A pleasant journey to you then, colonel,” said Mr Laffan, giving him a higher title than was his due. “We Englishmen, unaccustomed to your wild mountains, cannot travel so fast.”

I begged Mr Laffan to inquire what news the officer could give us.

“Very satisfactory,” he answered; “the rebels are everywhere defeated, and many of their leaders have been taken prisoners. The only unfortunate circumstance has been the escape of some of the prisoners who were being sent to Bogota by the way of La Plata. Among others rescued is that intriguing lady, Dona Dolores Monteverde.”

I tried to keep my countenance as this was said.

“Never heard of her,” observed Mr Laffan with imperturbable coolness. “How did it happen?”

“Suddenly, as the guards who had her and others in charge were emerging from a defile, they were set upon by a small party of horsemen who had remained concealed behind the rocks, and had allowed the larger force to pass. Most of the escort were cut down, for their bodies were found strewed on the ground; and the prisoners, including Dona Dolores, were carried off. Though hotly pursued by the cavalry, who, on hearing the shots, had returned, the rascals made good their escape.”

I was delighted to hear this, and I had no doubt but that Juan by some means or other had heard of the capture of Dona Dolores, and had formed a plan for her rescue. I hoped also that her father had escaped with her, as he probably would be in her company. It relieved my mind of a great difficulty; for although I had resolved to attempt her liberation, I could devise no plan for its accomplishment. I advised Mr Laffan to ask no further questions, lest the officer might suspect that he had some object in view.

We slung up our hammocks as usual in the common room, and the dominie and I did our best to sleep soundly, knowing that Lion would awake us if necessary.

The captain had stowed himself away on a pile of straw and cloaks in the corner, and just before I closed my eyes I heard him snoring loudly. A small oil lamp on the table shed an uncertain light through the room, so that objects could be only dimly distinguished. Our valises, I should have said, had been left on the ground a short distance from the heads of our hammocks.

How long I had been asleep I do not know, but I was awakened by a low growl from Lion. He did not spring forward, however. Looking up, I thought I distinguished a figure stealing along the wall. Lion still growled. The person, if there was one, remained in dark shadow, or else had passed through some opening, which I did not remember to have observed. I lay awake for some moments watching, but could see no one. I tried to make out whether the Spanish captain was still asleep on his bed, but, at the distance I was from the corner, I could not be certain. He was not, at all events, snoring, though he might be there.

Supposing that I must have been mistaken, I once more fell asleep. Strange to say, the same circumstances again occurred; but this time, forgetting at the moment that it was supposed I could not speak Spanish, and suddenly aroused from slumber, I shouted out, “Who goes there? Take care, whoever you are, else I’ll send a bullet through your head.” There was no answer. Lion gave a suppressed bark, in addition to a growl, and moved forward to where the valises lay, where he couched down with his fore paws stretched out, and his head resting on them, watching our property. From this I was convinced that some one had attempted to steal them, or, at all events, to obtain some of their contents; for we had carelessly left them both partly open. I was, however, now very sure that Lion would take care not to allow any one to touch them without giving us abundant warning.

This time I remained awake for some minutes, and clearly distinguished a person creeping round to the captain’s bed, on which he threw himself. It must have been the captain himself. Possibly his object was to obtain some money, which, supposing me to be a rich Englishman, he had concluded he should find; or he may have wished to get hold of our letters to ascertain who we were. He had, during the evening, frequently cast suspicious glances at my tutor and me, as if he were not quite certain that the account we gave of ourselves was the true one.

Overcome by sleep, my eyes once more closed; but I dreamed that I saw the captain reading our letters at the table, and making notes of their contents; and that then Lion jumped up and seized him by the throat. The dominie and I sprang to his rescue, but could not find the letters. I thought that he addressed us both by name, however, and appeared to know all about our affairs.

The captain got up at daybreak, and awoke us by shouting for his breakfast. During the meal, which he hurried over, he asked Mr Laffan a number of questions; then suddenly turning to me he said—

“How is it that you, who have been some months in the country, cannot speak Spanish?”

I looked at Mr Laffan and signed to him to reply.

“The young milord has no aptitude for learning languages,” he observed. “If you were to go to England, it might be some months before you could make yourself understood.”

The Spaniard, smiling grimly, said, “That’s strange, for I was awakened during the night by hearing him cry out, in very good Spanish, threatening to shoot somebody. I recognised his voice, and could not be mistaken.”

I endeavoured to look perfectly unconcerned, as if I had not understood what was said.

“You must have been dreaming, señor captain,” observed Mr Laffan; “I was nearer to him than you, and did not hear his voice.”

He then, turning to me, asked what the Spaniard could mean.

“Tell him that the young English lord is indignant at having such remarks made; that he must apologise for venturing to say such things. It will be better to carry matters with a high hand.”

The captain again smiled grimly, and muttered, “We shall see, we shall see.”

Having finished his meal, without even offering to pay the landlady he left the house and joined his men, who were waiting for him at the door with the captive silleros and peons. I followed him out unobserved, and heard him remark “that they must push on as fast as they could go, and keep ahead of the two English travellers.”

“They are not likely to start for a couple of hours,” answered the sergeant; “and if you wish it, we may find means to stop them.”

Some further conversation ensued, when the captain took out a paper, on which he wrote several sentences.

“Give this to Major Alvez, and if he thinks fit he will despatch a party to arrest them. You may accompany it, as you know them, and so there will be no mistake.”

Not wishing to be discovered, I returned into the house before I could hear more. The captain, mounting a strong mule, rode off, followed by the soldiers and the prisoners.

As soon as they were gone, the men whom Mr Laffan had hired made their appearance. The two silleros were remarkably fine, intelligent—looking Indians, dressed in loose trousers and shirt, the universal poncho of small dimensions over their shoulders, and a large straw hat. They had long poles in their hands. The peons wore only hats and loose short trousers. The machine on which the latter carry the baggage is a sort of frame of bamboo about three feet long, with a cross-piece at the lower end, on which they rest the load. It is secured with straps, which first pass round the burden and then go over the shoulders and across the breast; another strap passes over the forehead, and is fastened to the top of the bamboo at the back. The peons are careful to put a pad between the strap and the head and loins, to prevent chafing. The chair on which people are carried is much the same as the silla de cargo, except that the chair has rests for the arms, and a step for the feet. A peon will carry a load weighing a hundred pounds, but sometimes double that weight. Although neither Mr Laffan nor I intended to make use of our silleros unless in case of necessity, we thought it prudent to take them with us, that we might keep up our character as English travellers. The sillero who had been engaged to carry me was a well-informed fellow, as I judged from his remarks to Domingo;—of course, he did not address me.

Some time elapsed before the mules were brought to the door. Our horses were led by halters; and, that they might be as unencumbered as possible, their saddles and bridles were carried on the backs of peons. Everything being ready, we started; the porters, with the loads on their backs, keeping up easily with the mules. The road for about a league of the way was tolerable, but it then became so bad that we had frequently to dismount and trudge on foot. So steep were the hills in some places, that there was no little danger of our animals rolling over. The mules, however, accustomed to the ground, inspected it narrowly, then, planting their four legs together, slid down on their haunches. All we could do was to sit well back in our saddles, and trust to the sure-footedness of our animals.

Our first stopping-place was in a ruinous village at the foot of the mountains—the last we were to see until we reached Ibaque. We occupied a room in one of the houses, while our attendants formed sheds, and covered them with large plantain-leaves, which they had brought from Cartago. From one or two of the very few people we met we learned that the Spanish captain had gone on ahead, the soldiers we had seen with him having returned to a fort in the neighbourhood. He must have trusted to the terror which the Spaniards had inspired by their fearful cruelties. The Godos had indeed so cowed the natives that they would not have dared to molest him, else he would scarcely have ventured alone on such a journey. He, of course, had no luggage or animals to impede his progress, and would be able to travel faster than we could. As, however, Mr Laffan and I agreed that he very likely suspected us, we resolved to push on as rapidly as we could, so that we might, if possible, reach Bogota before he would have time to warn the authorities against us.

Chapter Nine.

Our journey over the mountains—Wild scenery—A ride on a Sillero’s back—Fears for the safety of our servants and horses—Making progress—My Sillero and I get ahead—The cruel conduct of the Spaniard, and its fearful punishment—Our camp on the mountains—An adventure with a jaguar—I kill a turkey for supper—Our attendants rejoin us—Sounds at night—We begin to descend—Dangers of the journey—We part from our Silleros, and proceed on horseback—A visit to the Falls of Tequendama—Their magnificence.

The road was as bad as could be,—often so steep, that it was like climbing up steps; in some places, indeed, large trees had fallen across the path. But our peons skipped over the trunks with as much firmness as if they had been walking on level ground. Now on one side, now on the other, were tremendous precipices, down which the traveller, by a slip of the foot, might be hurled, and dashed to pieces. We had cloaks and blankets, which we required during the night, for as we ascended the atmosphere became very cold. We also maintained good fires to keep off the jaguars, which frequently, we were told, attacked the mules. We heard them roar during the night; while a dismal howling was kept up by the red monkeys which abound in these deserts. Added to this, our ears were saluted by the loud screeching of night-birds, which formed a serenade far from pleasing.

The mountains were clothed with gloomy forests, which ascend almost to the summit of this branch of the Cordilleras. In a few places, where there were openings, we enjoyed extensive views, on either side, of superb scenery—the mountain-tops concealed in the clouds. We also saw numerous birds perched on the trees, or flitting among their branches—many of the most brilliant plumage, such as I had never before seen in the neighbourhood of Popayan.

I generally kept ahead with my sillero, who led the way. One of the peons following carried the chief load; then came Mr Laffan; Domingo and the rest of the people with the animals bringing up the rear. My sillero, though an Indian, was called Manoel; being, as he said, a baptised Christian. As I was anxious to gain information, which he seemed willing to impart, I was tempted to break through the plan which had been agreed on, and to speak a few words of Spanish, so that I might ask questions. I began in a broken, hesitating sort of way, until at length I forgot myself altogether, though Manoel did not appear at all astonished.

“El señor speaks Spanish better than I should have supposed possible from the short time he has been in the country,” he observed.

“I can understand what you say, and that is all I want,” I answered. “I have heard other Indians speak as you do, and so I am more ready to converse with you than I should be with a Spaniard.”

I felt sure that I could trust Manoel, as, from one or two remarks he had let drop, I was convinced that he was a Liberal, and had no love for the Spaniards. While we were encamped at night, sitting round our fire, we all talked away until it was time to go to sleep; but while travelling, as we were compelled to move in single file, it was difficult to carry on a conversation, except with the person immediately in front or behind.

After we had proceeded some distance, we began to hope that I had been mistaken in what I had heard the captain say to the sergeant, and that we should escape any risk of being captured and prevented from continuing our journey. Still Mr Laffan continued anxious on the subject.

We had been travelling for some time, and I was beginning to feel more tired than I had hitherto done. I had not as yet, indeed, quite recovered my full strength, and was scarcely fitted to walk as I was doing.

Manoel at length persuaded me to get on the silla. “It makes no difference to me,” he observed; “you are as light as a feather. You English are very different from the Spaniards. They get on our backs as if they were riding mules, and will often use a stick if we do not go fast enough to please them.”

I consented unwillingly, for I did not like the idea of any one carrying me.

From the position I had now attained, I could look down the steep ascent we had mounted, and I had an extensive view. I saw Mr Laffan standing gazing back along the path we had come; the rest of the party were nowhere, in sight. We shouted, but no reply came. Could the Spaniards have acted as the captain had advised them, and captured our people?

“Stop, Duncan,” cried Mr Laffan; “I do not like the look of things.” He soon overtook me, and expressed the same fears I entertained.

I asked Manoel what he thought.

“Very likely,” he answered; “those ladrones would as willingly rob English travellers who honour our country by a visit, as they would the unfortunate Patriots or us poor Indians. The best thing we can do is to push on.”

The peons carried our valises, the most valuable part of our property. We had our money in our pockets, with a brace of pistols apiece; and I had my gun, which I had brought in case I should see anything to shoot.

“But what shall we do for provisions?” asked Mr Laffan.

“We shall find game enough on the road to supply all our wants,” answered Manoel.

We agreed, therefore, to move forward as fast as we could. Domingo, with the peons and our animals, if not captured, could easily follow and overtake us at night.

“We are coming to the steepest part of our journey,” said Manoel; “the Spanish soldiers will have a difficulty in climbing up the path ahead.”

Every now and then Mr Laffan looked back, and I kept looking occasionally down the valley,—but not a sign of our attendants could I discover. In a short time Manoel said that he observed the marks of footsteps ahead. “They are those of a sillero carrying some person. We shall soon overtake them.”

Manoel, in his eagerness, soon distanced the other peon and Mr Laffan, whose anxiety made him stop to ascertain whether our attendants were coming. We were at this time mounting an excessively steep and narrow path, with a tremendous precipice on one side, down which it made me giddy to look: had I not had the most perfect confidence in my sillero, I should infinitely have preferred to walk. I begged him, indeed, to let me get off; but he always answered, “You are no weight; it makes not the slightest difference to me. I feel my footing more secure with you on my back.” Shortly afterwards I heard him exclaim, “There they are!—the savage brute!”

“Of whom do you speak?” I asked.

“Of the Spanish officer. He is digging his spurs into the side of my poor brother, to make him go faster.”

I glanced round, although it was somewhat difficult to do so; and there, sure enough, I saw the captain whom we had met at the posada, seated in a silla, and striking, now with one leg now with the other, at his carrier, occasionally hitting him over the head with the back of his hand. The Indian went on, as far as I could perceive, without complaining; but the captain shouted “Go on—go on faster,” and again dug his spurs into the poor Indian.

Manoel groaned. I could hear him grind his teeth.

“How can you bear it?” he muttered. “The Spaniard may repent his cruelty, though.”

At the foot of the precipice, I should have said, rushed a fierce torrent, roaring and foaming down the side of the mountain. Presently I saw the sillero buttress himself, as it were, firmly with the iron-shod stick with which he supported his steps. Again the Spaniard dug his spurs into his side, asking him what he was doing, and, with a fearful oath, shouted to him to go on. The Indian answered by a vigorous jerk of his back, when I saw the Spaniard shot off, as from a catapult. The next moment he was falling headlong down into the gulf, several hundred feet below us. One fearful shriek rent the air; it was the only sound the wretched man had time to utter before the breath, by the rapidity of his fall, was taken from his body. It was the work of an instant. I shut my eyes. It seemed like some terrible dream. The Spanish captain was gone, though his voice still sounded in my ear.

Manoel stopped. “He has met the fate he deserved,” he said.

“But the sillero will see you, and suppose you will inform against him.”

Manoel answered with a low laugh. “He is my brother, and knows that the secret is safe in my keeping. Can I trust you? No other creature saw what has occurred.”

“God saw him, and he is the avenger of blood,” I answered.

“Would you have had my brother patiently submit to the cruelties inflicted upon him?” asked Manoel.

“We have no right to take the life of a fellow-creature, except in self-defence or open warfare,” I replied. “But the secret is safe in my keeping. I did not even see the face of the man who committed the deed, and I know not who he was. I love the Spaniards as little as you do, and I promise you I will not reveal the dreadful crime I have just witnessed.”

“I am grateful,” answered Manoel; “for, to tell you the truth, had I thought you capable of informing against my brother, I might have been tempted, though much against my inclination, to serve you as he served the Spaniard; but had I done so, I never should have been happy afterwards.”

I scarcely thought that Manoel was in earnest, and yet I believe that he was so. His fidelity to his brother sillero would have been paramount to every other consideration. Manoel was advancing as he spoke, but when I looked round the sillero had disappeared, though I afterwards caught a glimpse of him bounding up the rocks on the left, having hurled his chair over the cliff.

It was some time before I could recover from the horrible scene I had witnessed; and I debated in my own mind whether or not I should have given the promise I had made to Manoel. One thing was certain, however—I was bound to keep it.

When the path became less steep, I insisted on walking. Manoel, too, though he had boasted of his strength, was obliged to stop and rest; and at length the peons and Mr Laffan rejoined us. The latter was still anxious about the rest of the party, and declared that it would be impossible for the horses to mount the steep path by which we had come. He thought that even the mules could scarcely do it, supposing that they had not been overtaken by the Spaniards.

I had not, of course, told him how our chief cause of anxiety was removed, and that we need no longer fear discovery on our arrival at Bogota.

“When the Spaniards are driven away, and a Liberal government is established, we must have a good road over these mountains,” exclaimed Mr Laffan. “It is a disgrace to a civilised country, that no better means of communication exists between the capital and her most fertile districts.”

At last, as evening approached, Manoel selected a spot for encamping, and we made the usual preparations. We enjoyed a magnificent scene. As far as the eye could range were mountains clothed with immense forests, into which man had never penetrated. About a couple of hundred feet below us ran a sparkling stream, towards which, while the peon was employed in collecting wood for the fire, Manoel made his way, to fill a leathern bottle with water. I accompanied him with my gun, followed by Lion, hoping to shoot some birds for supper.

We had gone a little way along the bank, when a wild turkey got up. I fired, and brought it to the ground. Manoel ran forward to secure it, but just before he reached it he stopped and beckoned to me. As he did so I saw a huge jaguar, which had been drinking at the stream, not two hundred yards from us. I had, as a sportsman should, reloaded my gun before moving. The only weapon Manoel possessed, besides the manchette at his girdle, was his sharp-pointed staff,—not calculated for an encounter with so powerful a beast. The jaguar, having seen the turkey fall, crept on to seize it. I advanced as rapidly as I dared, keeping my gun ready for instant use. Lion would have rushed forward to get the bird had I not ordered him to remain at my heels, for, powerful as he was, a blow from the jaguar’s paw would have been too much for him.

The jaguar seemed determined not to be disappointed of the turkey, and would probably, I thought, spring at Manoel. The difficulty was to avoid wounding him in shooting at the jaguar. Manoel stood ready for action, with his staff in his hand. He dared not for a moment withdraw his eye from the jaguar, which, had he done so, would immediately have sprung upon him. I called to him, telling him I was coming, in case he might not have heard my footsteps. The jaguar was all the time creeping up, threatening at any moment to spring, and I was about twelve yards behind Manoel when the brute began to bound forward. Manoel leapt on one side. Now or never, I must gain the victory, or both my companion and I might lose our lives. I fired. The jaguar bounded into the air, then fell over on its side.

Manoel dashed forward and plunged his stick into the creature’s neck, pinning it to the ground; then drawing his manchette, he quickly terminated its existence. We left it where it lay, for we could not have carried its skin, even had we taken the trouble of flaying it.

Near the top of the hill we met Mr Laffan, who had witnessed the encounter.

“Bravo, Duncan! you behaved famously; and Manoel too—he is a fine fellow. All the same, the turkey is welcome, for I am terribly hard set.”

We soon had the bird roasting before the fire. It was, however, but a moderate supper for four people and a dog, and I was sorry that I had not succeeded in killing another turkey.

Mr Laffan kept constantly jumping up and looking down the path by which we had come, in the hope of seeing our attendants; and just as the shades of evening were creeping over the mountains, he exclaimed, “There they are!—I hope I am not mistaken.”

I could see several persons and animals winding round the side of the hill, so I called to Manoel, and asked him if he thought they were our friends.

“If they are Spaniards, señor, we shall be wise to move forward, for they will treat you with but little ceremony, I suspect.”

Manoel descended to a point from whence he could observe the approaching party without being seen, and in a short time returned and relieved our anxiety by assuring us that they were our friends. It was some time, however, before they reached our camp.

They had been delayed by their efforts to rescue one of the mules which had slipped over a precipice and got pitched in a tree; from which, wonderful to relate, it was drawn up uninjured. The Spanish commandant, we therefore concluded, had not thought fit to send in chase of us.

During the night we heard the roar of jaguars and other wild animals; but as we kept up a blazing fire, we were not molested. In the morning, just as we were about to start, I shot two wild turkeys; and had we had time to spare, I might have killed several more. As we proceeded we saw several tracks of bears and jaguars, perfectly fresh.

The next day we reached the Paramo, on the summit of the Cordilleras, thirteen thousand feet above the level of the sea. We caught sight of numbers of wild asses, which inhabit this mountainous region. The hoof of the animal is divided like that of a pig. They are very shy, so that even the Indians are seldom able to approach near enough to kill them; and they are also very swift of foot.

We crossed the Paramo in safety, and continued our journey for several days without any further adventure.

The views, as we descended the mountains, were magnificent. We could see the Cordilleras on the opposite side of the plain of Bogota, seventy or eighty miles off; while north and south rose prodigious heights, with apparently perpendicular sides, their bases covered with thick, gloomy forests, which appeared perfectly impenetrable. As we looked back, it seemed impossible that we should have crossed the range. Frequently we passed through dark gorges piercing the forests, two miles in length, and not more than three or four feet wide, the vegetation on either side being most luxuriant.

We had to be on our guard against bruising our legs by pieces of rock; or getting our clothes torn by the long thorns of the bamboos; or being knocked off our mules—for we had again mounted—by the branches of trees. We met a party of peons conveying salt on the backs of oxen to Cartage. The cargoes were small, and placed in such a manner as to enable the animals to pass through these narrow places. Fortunately there was an opening near the spot, or we should have been unable to pass each other.

At last we reached a tambo, or shed, built for the use of travellers—the first sign of civilisation we had met since we left the western side of the Cordilleras.

We were now once more in a warmer region. Butterflies of large size, covered with orange-coloured spots, fluttered about; and red monkeys leapt from tree to tree, frequently coming down to make grimaces at us. Another day’s journey brought us to a cottage inhabited by peasants, who gave us a satisfactory welcome.

At length we reached the place where we were to part from our silleros and peons, and continue our journey on horseback.

“I hope that we shall meet again,” I said to Manoel, who had won my regard.

“We shall, señor, it may be, if you do not soon leave the country,” replied Manoel, looking earnestly at me.

“I may stay longer than I at first intended,” I said.

Manoel and the rest of our attendants were well satisfied with the payment we had made them.

Mr Laffan and I, with Domingo, now continued our journey on horseback, the roads being tolerable. But, eager as we were to reach Bogota, we agreed that it would be wise, the better to keep up our assumed character, to visit the waterfall of Tequendama, which was not far out of our direct road. It is formed by the river Bogota, which is hereabouts sixty yards in breadth.

As soon as we got within a mile or so of it, we obtained a guide to show us the way. At a height of six hundred feet above the plain of Bogota, we enjoyed a magnificent view, embracing the various windings of the river, several large lakes, and enormous forests—the city in the distance, backed by a range of bold mountains. Thence we began to descend towards the waterfall, the sides of the hill being abrupt and slippery. We passed through a grand, gloomy forest, the lofty boughs of the trees sheltering us from the rays of the hot sun. All was silent, except the deep, fine note of the tropiole, which was occasionally heard; while through the openings we caught sight of other birds of brilliant plumage, which here live unmolested.

Leaving our horses, the dominie and I descended a couple of hundred feet to a spot where the “Salto,” as it is called, burst on our view, rushing down between two mountains until it attains the edge of a precipice, whence the vast body of water is precipitated into a mighty abyss below. The chasms through which such falls issue are known in the country as barancas. The sides, consisting of reddish granite, rise almost perpendicularly. The height of the whole fall may be nearly one thousand feet, but the single fall in front of us was calculated to be about six hundred feet.

We stood on the bank of the precipice for some minutes, not daring to speak: indeed, the sound of the falling water completely drowned our voices when we made the attempt; the sensation in our ears being as if a thousand pieces of artillery were discharged close to us. The ground trembled beneath our feet, our eyes were dazzled by the sparkling spray, and our senses felt confused, as the mighty volume of water rushed down before us, between the perpendicular rocks, into the chasm at their base. The overwhelming body of water, as it left its upper bed, formed a broad arch, smooth and glossy. A little lower down it assumed a fleecy form; and then shot forth in millions of tubular shapes, which chased each other more like sky-rockets than anything else to which I can compare them. The changes were as singularly beautiful as they were varied, in consequence of the difference in gravitation, and rapid evaporation, which was taking place before the waters reached the bottom. Dense clouds of vapour rose for a considerable height, mingling with the atmosphere, and presenting in their descent the most brilliant rainbows. From the rocky sides of the immense basin hung shrubs and bushes, while numerous springs and tributary streams added their mite to the grand effect. The water at the bottom then rushed impetuously along a stony bed, over which hung various trees, and was lost beyond a dark turn in the rock. From the level of the river where we stood, the hills, completely covered with wood, rose to a great height; while through the only opening amid them we observed the distant mountains in the province of Antioquia, their summits clothed with perpetual snow. Hovering over the fearful chasm were various birds of the most beautiful plumage, peculiar to the spot, and differing from any I had seen before. Our guide told us that some philosophical gentlemen, in order to ascertain the tremendous force of the torrent, had once compelled an unfortunate bullock to descend it; but that, excepting a few bones, not a vestige of the animal could afterwards be found at the bottom.

“It is worth coming all the way from England to behold such a scene as this,” observed Mr Laffan to our guide, as he put a piece of money into the man’s hand. “The young milord is highly pleased.”

The guide took care to inform some persons whom he found at the top of the hill, and who were going to Bogota, of the opinion I had formed; and they of course entertained no suspicion that I was any other than a young English lord travelling with his tutor. This was a great advantage to us, as it prevented puzzling questions being asked.

Mr Laffan, however, continued to express his fears that the Spanish captain might have preceded us, and given notice to the authorities of our coming.

I, of course, said nothing of having witnessed the man’s terrible end, as I had resolved to keep the fearful secret locked in my own bosom. Probably, even had I mentioned it, very little trouble would have been taken to search out the culprit and bring him to justice.

Chapter Ten.

We overtake an escort with prisoners on the road to Bogota—Dr Cazalla among them—He makes no sign of recognition—We next see Uncle Richard—How Lion nearly betrayed us—We speak to Uncle Richard in English—Antonio among the guard—Has he turned traitor?—Hurrying on before the escort, we fall in with a body of volunteers for the Spanish army—At a posada—Cock-fighting—The sergeant and his recruits arrive—Entering Bogota—Description of the city—The Great Square—At the house of Don José—The children’s remarks—We are kindly treated—The death of Dona Paula Salabariata—Don José’s sympathy—Some other patriots shot.

Having made a circuit to the southward, we reached the highroad which runs between the capital and La Plata. As we did so, we saw before us a considerable body of men both on foot and horseback; and on inquiring of some peons who were coming in our direction, they told us that they were soldiers escorting a number of Republican prisoners to Bogota. Could any of our friends be among them?

Mr Laffan and I determined to ride up and ascertain; and by assuming a bold front, we hoped to escape detection.

We soon overtook the party, but found it impossible to pass them on the road; and although we saw some prisoners in their midst, we could not find out who they were. The escort, however, at length halted in the plaza of a village, which, being of considerable width, enabled us to ride past them. Pretending not to be much concerned, yet eagerly scanning the countenances of the prisoners, I saw several whom I knew, but among them my uncle, Doctor Cazalla, who, with the rest, had been compelled to walk, his hands secured behind his back with a rope. He was now, with his companions in misfortune, seated on a log of wood. I felt sure that he knew me, though he made no sign of recognition, and I dared not make any to him; but my appearance showed him, I trusted, that every effort would be made for his liberation. Further on was another group of prisoners, some lying on the ground, others seated on a stone bench. Fearing that the account the Spanish captain had given might not be true, I half expected to see Dona Dolores and her father. The Spaniards, of course, would not have treated her with more consideration than they did their other prisoners; but I could see neither her nor Señor Monteverde.

At that instant Lion rushed forward towards one of the people seated on the bench, and what was my dismay to discover Uncle Richard! Fearful lest the dog should betray us, I loudly called him back, pretending that I thought he was about to fly at the prisoners. Though always obedient, on this occasion he did not seem to heed me, until Uncle Richard spoke to him in a stern voice, when the sagacious animal returned to my side and remained there, as if he had never before seen Uncle Richard. He, I saw, immediately recognised Mr Laffan and me, by the glance he cast at us; but retaining his presence of mind, he made no sign to show that he had done so.

I rode close to him, and turning round to Mr Laffan, I said aloud,—“I wish he would address us as Englishmen, which he might easily do without causing suspicion; we could then learn all we want to know, and form a plan for helping him.”

Directly I had said this, Uncle Richard shouted out, “I am sure those are Englishmen! Have pity on me, noble gentlemen; I am your countryman, made prisoner by the Spaniards, and shall very likely be shot if I am not rescued.”

He turned to the soldiers standing by, and said in Spanish, “Those are English travellers—my countrymen. Allow them to speak to me; they are always generous, and will reward you.”

Without waiting for leave, we turned our horses towards the bench; and leaning over, I asked Uncle Richard after our families, and how he had been made prisoner,—trying to assume as unconcerned a tone as possible.

“They are all safe,” he answered. “Your father’s black servant—I won’t mention his name—has charge of them, and they are still safe in the mountains. I was unfortunately tempted to leave our retreat, in the hope of raising a body of Indians and others to be ready to aid a projected attack by the Patriots on the Spaniards, when I was surprised and taken prisoner. It will go hard with me, I fear, as, though I am an Englishman, Murillo will not stand on ceremony on that account.”

“Do not be cast down. We will try to find out where you are imprisoned, and will do everything we can to rescue you,” I answered.

“I am sure of that,” he said. “By what wonderful chance are you here?”

I then told him the object of our journey, and how I had letters to a number of persons of influence in Bogota, so that I might hope to be of effectual service to him.

“You will do your best, I am sure,” he said; “and, depend upon it, I do not intend to be killed like a rat in a hole, but shall try to gnaw my way out. You had better not stay much longer, or some of those fellows may possibly recognise you. Bestow a gold piece or two on me, if you have any to spare; in truth, I am greatly in need of money, as every dollar I had in my pocket was taken from me when I was made prisoner. And do not forget to bestow your promised gift on our guards—it will incline them to favour me. Two or three of them seem very good fellows, and have been attentive to me on the journey.”

“Now,” I said, “if you have an opportunity, tell my mother’s brother—I will not mention his name—why I have come to Bogota, and that every effort will be made for his liberation.”

After a few more words, I took out my purse and put a few gold pieces into Uncle Richard’s hand. I then turned to Mr Laffan, who had been standing by, occasionally joining in the conversation, and begged him to distribute some money among the men. As I glanced my eye over them, what was my surprise to see my servant Antonio in a corporal’s uniform, and apparently in command of the party! I was sure it was he, although he looked at me in the most unconcerned manner possible, returning only a military salute as Mr Laffan handed him the money. Could he have deserted to the enemy? I had considered him a faithful fellow, as he certainly was a brave one. He must have had some object in joining the Spaniards; what it was, however, we could not now ascertain.

Uttering our farewells, we mounted and rode on, followed by Domingo. As we did so, Lion turned and cast a lingering glance behind; but the stern look Uncle Richard put on, told him that he must not take any notice of him.

It now became more important than ever that we should reach the city without delay. We had not gone far, when we saw a party of recruits marching from a large village to the eastward. Mr Laffan, however, thought that they were prisoners,—which they certainly resembled more than soldiers, except that each man carried a musket on his shoulder; for they were all secured together by a long rope, the end of which was held by a ruffianly-looking fellow on horseback. They were dressed in broad-brimmed hats, loose trousers, and ponchos over their shoulders; but the rest of their bodies, legs and feet, were bare. The sergeant had on a very unmilitary-looking hat of large dimensions, with wide leggings, and huge spurs.

“Faith, I wonder the fellows don’t turn round and shoot him,” observed Mr Laffan.

“Probably, to save the risk of that, they are not supplied with ammunition,” I rejoined. “This is the way in which the Spaniards obtain their recruits. The poor fellows are thus marched off to be slaughtered; unless they can contrive to run away, which they certainly will do if they have the opportunity.”

Saluting the sergeant, who only scowled at us in return, we rode on ahead of the party. We found, on inquiring the distance we should have to go, that we could not reach Bogota that evening, and accordingly stopped at a posada three or four leagues from the city. It was a large straggling building, at which small traders and merchants generally put up. People of more consequence were accustomed to proceed further, or stop at the country-houses of their friends.

As we rode up, we found all the inhabitants and guests assembled in the yard witnessing a cock-fight, their eager countenances and excited exclamations showing the interest they took in the brutal pastime. The birds, armed with steel spurs, flew at each other and fought desperately. When one was killed or hopelessly wounded, the owner tore his hair and swore fearfully at his misfortune—by which, probably, he had lost no inconsiderable sum.

We turned away disgusted and entered the inn—Domingo having taken our horses into the stable—but it was some time before we could get anybody to attend to us. At last the landlord appeared; and Mr Laffan having explained who we were, or rather who we pretended to be, begged that we might have a private apartment. On this the landlord laughed, and said that even for an English milord this was impossible, but that we might have a corner of the public room for ourselves. He then inquired what we would have for supper, assuring us that anything we might ask for would be provided. As usual, when Mr Laffan mentioned one thing after another, it was not to be had. At length, however, a tough fowl, with some salt beef and fried eggs, was placed before us, together with some plantains and various fruits, off which we contrived to make a very satisfactory repast. The scene at night reminded me of that at the posada on the opposite side of the mountains, the arrangements being very similar. On this occasion, the greater part of the floor was covered by recumbent figures.

We had already turned into our hammocks, when a loud voice demanding admittance was heard outside the house; and—by the light of the only candle left burning—on the door being opened I recognised the sergeant and his recruits. This individual in an authoritative tone ordered several of the sleeping people to get up, in order to make room for his party. He then called for supper, while his men lay down, with their muskets by their sides, to rest their weary limbs. Having quickly finished his meal, he took possession of a vacant space; placing, I observed, his pistols under the saddle which served him as a pillow, and unsheathing his sword, so as to have it ready for instant use. He had probably no great confidence in his recruits, and thought it not unlikely that one of them might get up during the night and plunge a cuchillo in his heart.

On awaking next morning, I proposed starting immediately.

“Take my advice, and stow away breakfast first,” observed Mr Laffan. “It is a sound rule to follow when travelling, unless one knows that a substantial meal is waiting one at the end of the stage.”

We got off at an early hour, however, and again passed the sergeant and his so-called recruits on the road. We pushed on before them, wishing to get into Bogota as soon as possible. As we rode on, the towers and steeples of the city appeared before us, glittering in the rays of the rising sun. On one side was a range of lofty mountains, running in a semicircular form; the city itself covering an elevation slightly above the vast plain extending before it. Here and there we caught sight of the river Bogota, which runs through the plain in a serpentine form at about three leagues from the city. The surrounding country was generally uncultivated, except in the immediate neighbourhood of villages or quintas, though there were large enclosures for grazing cattle. On the summits of the mountains which rise immediately above the city were perched two white buildings, which we ascertained to be convents. We could see the domes and towers of others, and were told that thirty-three of them occupied the best sites in the city. They were, indeed, the only fine-looking buildings to be seen.

I was much struck with the appearance of the town as we entered it. All the streets appeared to be built at right angles, while a stream of water flowed through the centre. We passed, also, a number of handsome public fountains. The streets through which we rode were much crowded, making us suppose that something unusual was taking place. The handsomest street we saw was the Calle Real, or Royal Street. The ground-floors of the houses were occupied by shops; with a story above, and a large wooden balcony painted green. On either side of the street, which was well paved, was a foot-path; and as there were no vehicles of any description, the traffic being carried on by mules, it was free from ruts, and remarkably clean.

No one seemed especially to regard us, though we were occasionally favoured with a stare from persons who fancied they were looking at Englishmen—some of them scowling ominously at us, and bestowing curses on our heads for being heretics. Beggars of all descriptions swarmed in the streets, exhibiting their sores, and demanding rather than soliciting alms. Many were afflicted with that dreadful complaint known as elephantiasis—their legs being swollen to an enormous size. Still more numerous were the galenachas, or black vultures. As we reached the great square of the city, into which the Calle Real led us, we saw them hopping about, acting as scavengers, engaged in devouring the filth and offal left on the ground; and so tame were they, that they would scarcely get out of our way.

On riding forward, we found ourselves in the midst of a large market being carried on in the great square. It was filled with people vending their provisions—some sitting before pyramids of fruit piled up on the ground; others at low stools, on which articles of all sorts were exposed for sale. Among them were Creoles, Blacks, Sambos, Indians—indeed, every hue was represented—all jabbering in loud voices. On one side of the square was the town-house, and on the other the cathedral, with two convents, and other public buildings.

We inquired our way to the house of Don José Lagano, which we found looked into the great square. Though a noted Royalist, he was a friend of both my father and Don Cassiodoro, who were satisfied that he could be thoroughly trusted, even although he might suspect who we were.

Don José was at home; and on hearing from the servant that a young English milord had arrived, he politely came out to receive us. As he read the letter I delivered him it struck me that his countenance changed.

“You are welcome, at all events,” he said; “and I will endeavour to forward the object you have in view.”

He introduced me to his wife in the character I had assumed, and Mr Laffan as my tutor. Soon afterwards, several nice boys and girls of various ages entered the room. While refreshments were preparing, I endeavoured to amuse the children by playing with them. Though I spoke a word or two of ill-pronounced Spanish—not being supposed to understand their language—they were very free in their remarks, and I could scarcely refrain from laughing as I heard what they said. The lady spoke French; and as I knew the language pretty well, we could converse without difficulty. She somewhat puzzled me by the questions she put about England; but, as I found she had not been there, I gave her the best account I could of such places as I had heard my father and Uncle Richard describe.

Don José’s countenance wore a puzzled expression as he heard me talking, but I believe he from the first suspected who I was. I found him an amiable, good-natured man, and really anxious to save the lives of such prisoners as fell into the hands of the Spanish general.

I had been directed to plead for Dr Cazalla on account of his scientific attainments, and as it would be a disgrace, whatever his political opinions were, to put such a man to death.

Don José shook his head when he heard what I said. “That is the very reason why Murillo will desire to destroy him,” he observed. “His intention is to rid the country of all men of superior intelligence and influence; and he has especially vowed to put to death every lawyer who falls into his hands.”

As a last resource, I had letters from Don Cassiodoro to Murillo himself, which I was to deliver in person—bearding the lion in his den—with my tutor to act as interpreter. It was considered that there would be no danger in this—that the doing so would rather tend to confirm him in the idea that I was a young English nobleman; and I should, on leaving the city, be able to proceed in any direction I might think fit. My only fear was lest Mr Laffan and I might encounter some person who had known us at Popayan, in which case we should be placed in a very dangerous position.

Next morning the sound of muffled drums was heard, and on going to the window with our host I saw a body of troops marching from the direction of the prison. In their midst walked several persons, each between two priests. I was struck by the appearance of one of the unhappy persons—who were evidently prisoners—a young lady of graceful figure and features, who appeared to me singularly beautiful.

“Who are they, and where are they going?” I asked of Don José in French, for he spoke that language as well as his wife.

“That lady is Dona Paula Salabariata; and she is going to her death.”

“To her death!” I exclaimed.

“Yes; in a few minutes she and those with her are to be shot. She is a determined Revolutionist, and has long been engaged in inciting the people to rebellion. Her correspondence with the Republicans has at length been discovered; and at her trial, which took place yesterday, she acknowledged her principles, and confessed that she had written the letters.”

“So young, and so beautiful!” I exclaimed.

“Yes, my friend; and she is gentle, and possesses a woman’s heart, though with the spirit of a man. She was engaged to marry a young Republican officer; but neither her youth nor her beauty will avail her with our stern viceroy.”

“The cruel tyrant!” I exclaimed.

Not noticing what I said, he continued: “Do you think that anything will induce him to spare the learned doctor?”—and here he fixed his eyes on me—“or any young man who falls into his power?”

I could make no reply; indeed, our attention was absorbed by the mournful procession passing through the square. My eyes were fixed on Dona Paula.

“My heart will burst, if I do not go out and fight for her!” exclaimed my tutor, who was standing close behind me; and he clapped his hand to his sword.

“My friend,” said Don José, “be calm. Although I do not hold her principles, I would join you if it would avail, but any attempt of the sort would only result in our certain death.”

My heart was swelling with indignation, and I felt as did my worthy tutor, but I saw the folly of acting as our feelings prompted.

The rest of the prisoners walked with firm step; but I confess that I scarcely noticed any of them, nor, I believe, did my companions, our whole attention being absorbed by the lovely girl who formed the prominent figure. I remarked that she was dressed in black, and that she advanced with a firm step, her small head erect on her graceful neck; the only ornament she wore in her glossy black hair being a spray of orange-blossom, as if she were going to her bridal. She carried a book in her hand; and when the friar presented the crucifix to her, she gently but firmly put it aside.

The party moved forward until they reached the centre of the vast square, when they halted in line, the other prisoners being made to stand on either side. The lady knelt down, and was allowed to remain for a few minutes in prayer; she then rose, and handing the wreath and her shawl to some of her weeping female friends who had followed her, she stood alone, holding a handkerchief in her hand. Then exclaiming, “Success to the cause of my oppressed countrymen!” she let the handkerchief drop. At that moment the firing-party, a few paces off, discharged the fatal volley; and as the smoke cleared off we saw her stretched on the ground, not a movement to indicate that she lived being perceptible. An officer advanced and took her hand, to ascertain that she was dead, after which her attendants approached and bore her away; the only favour which the savage tyrant had been induced to grant being that her friends should be permitted to commit her body to the grave.

Such would have been the fate of Dona Dolores, had she not escaped, I thought. I was nearly expressing my opinion aloud, when I happily remembered in whose company I was. The two ladies, I had no doubt, had frequently communicated with each other; and since such women, full of intelligence and enthusiasm, were labouring in the cause, it must, I felt sure, in the end be successful. Would that all the men were like them, so disinterested, so self-sacrificing, so devoted,—ready, like Dona Paula, to lay down their lives for their country’s good! But, alas! too many even among the Patriots were self-opinionated—seeking their own aggrandisement, and how to fill their coffers, without regard to the public weal; yet among them were many true Patriots, such as Bolivar, Paez, Arismendez, Santandar, and many others.

The rest of the prisoners were now brought forward; but Don José and myself, shuddering, retired from the window, unwilling to see our fellow-creatures slaughtered, while we were without the power to help them. The dominie, however, kept his post; but I saw that he was grinding his teeth and clutching the hilt of his sword, while his bosom heaved, and expressions escaped his lips, which, although I could not even catch the words, showed how deeply he was agitated.

“Sad, very sad, that such things should be,” observed Don José; “but the general believes that the only way of overthrowing the Republican principles which have gained ground in the country, is to exterminate all who hold them.”

“Does he remember the tale of ‘the dragon’s teeth’?” I asked. “The blood of that young girl cries for vengeance, and I feel assured that thousands will rise up to answer the call.”

“What! do you Englishmen side with the Liberals?” he asked.

“My countrymen are ever ready to espouse the cause of the oppressed and suffering; and such, Don José, you must acknowledge the inhabitants of this country have long been,” I answered boldly, for I was sure that my worthy host would not be offended. Indeed, I suspect that he himself leaned towards the independent side, although a professed Royalist.

“Time will show,” he remarked; “but I wish that all this bloodshed could be avoided.”

I remarked that every time a volley was fired he shuddered.

Chapter Eleven.

An interview with Murillo—We gain nothing for our pains—I still endeavour to rescue the prisoners—Meet Antonio, who belongs to the guard at the prison—My conversation with him—He promises assistance, but gives me bad news—Our plan arranged—Don José suspects us, and requests us to leave his house—We remain till the following day—Dr Cazalla and Señor Monteverde, with many others, shot—Domingo brings me a disguise, and advises me to escape without delay—Don José requests me not to see him again—Mr Laffan and I separate—He starts for Honda; I go towards the prison, followed by Lion—Outside the prison walls—Joined by Uncle Richard—Our escape from the city—We reach the mountains—Our arrival at a river—No means of crossing—Spanish soldiers in pursuit—A tarabita or rope-bridge—Dangerous crossing—The bridge cut—Our escape—Sounds of firing—We find shelter in the hut of an Indian, whose son undertakes to guide us.

By the aid of Don José and other friends to whom I had letters, I ascertained that Dr Cazalla and Mr Duffield had been brought into Bogota, and were confined, with several other persons whom I knew, in the chief prison of the city—although they had not yet undergone the mockery of a trial, which would precede their execution. Don José had made every exertion to obtain their liberation, but in vain. The savage Murillo, it was said, had resolved to shoot the whole of them. As there was no English Consul at that time in Bogota, and no one who dared openly to take Uncle Richard’s part, I determined, according to the advice I had received, to beard the lion in his den, and threaten him with the vengeance of England should Mr Duffield be injured. I was also to point out to Murillo the disgrace of destroying a man of such high scientific attainments as Dr Cazalla, and to plead that he might be banished to England, where he could render service to the human race.

Mr Laffan was quite willing to accompany me as interpreter. “We may bamboozle the scoundrel, and succeed where others have failed,” observed the dominie. “There is nothing like impudence,—or a bold bearing, as some would call it,—when one has to deal with a fellow of this sort.”

We set out, accordingly, for the viceroy’s palace. On our arrival we found numerous officers hurriedly coming and going, but most of them merely glanced at us and passed on. In the ante-room there was a motley assemblage of persons of all ranks. Some had come with petitions, others had been summoned to undergo examinations; and several—informers, I have no doubt—were hoping to obtain a reward for their treachery. I sent in my card by an aide-de-camp, requesting an interview with his Excellency. To my surprise, we were almost immediately admitted. The general was seated at a table covered with papers—two or three officers standing near him. His countenance did not belie his character. Although the expression of his mouth was concealed by his huge moustache, the dark eyes which gleamed forth from under his shaggy brows, and the frown which wrinkled his high forehead, betokened his savage disposition.

“Who are you, and what do you want?” he asked abruptly in Spanish.

I turned to Mr Laffan and begged him to interpret what the general said.

“Tell him that I am English, and how, hearing that a countryman of mine has been imprisoned unjustly, I have come to demand his release, and permission for him to accompany me back to England.”

“Of what profession is he?” asked the general of Mr Laffan. “Is he a lawyer?”

“No,” I replied; “he is a British naval officer who has resided for some time in this country, but is still under the protection of the English Government, to whom it would be my duty to give information should any harm happen to him.”

“Had he been a lawyer, whether a British subject or not, he should be shot,” answered Murillo. “As it is, I will consider the matter.”

He turned to one of the officers, who handed him a paper.

“Ah! I see he is married to a lady belonging to a rebel family; and he himself was found inciting the peasantry to take up arms. I care not though he is under British protection. He shall die.”

“My countrymen will avenge him,” I answered through Mr Laffan, who assumed an authoritative tone and manner, which I thought would produce some effect. “You know not whether the accusation is true or false.”

Judging that it was best to leave what I had said to produce its effect, I stopped for a minute, and then continued,—“Well, your Excellency, I need not speak further about Señor Ricardo Duffield. I have now to plead for another person, who, although not an Englishman, belongs to all civilised countries in the world, and all will equally stigmatise those who injure him; I allude to the learned Dr Cazalla. I beg that he may be allowed to accompany me to my own country, where he can prosecute his scientific studies without molestation.”

The general’s brow grew darker than ever.

“He is one of the pests of this country. He taught the rebels how to make gunpowder and arms, to be used against their rightful sovereign. He shall die, even although the whole British army, with your Lord Wellesley at their head, were to endeavour to rescue him.”

“That’s an ungrateful remark, your Excellency, considering the service he has rendered Spain,” observed Mr Laffan; “but it’s just what may be expected.”

“Go out of my presence—this instant!” exclaimed the general, irritated by this imprudent remark. “The prisoners shall die; and let me tell you that your errand is bootless.”

I felt, indeed, that such was the case. In fact, I heard the general, turning to the officer who acted as his chief of police, direct him to keep an eye upon us. His suspicions had, I saw, been aroused.

We did not consider it necessary to pay any special mark of respect as we took our leave. The general was talking to the officers at his side, scarcely deigning to notice us. With heads erect, and as calm countenances as we could command, we passed through the crowd in the ante-room, and made our way into the street. We then hurried back to Don José’s, to tell him how fruitless had been our visit to the viceroy.

“I was afraid so,” observed our host. “If Murillo has made up his mind, no power on earth can turn him from his purpose.”

I had not forgotten Antonio, and had formed a plan to try and rescue Mr Duffield and Dr Cazalla, should other means fail. As Antonio had not already betrayed me, I had great hopes that I could rely on his assistance. Always accompanied by Mr Laffan, I went about endeavouring to discover him. I at length ascertained that he belonged to the guard stationed at the prison. In all probability, then, he would at times have charge of the prisoners inside; and if so, he might be able to aid in their escape.

Before long we fell in with him off duty, and near the prison itself. It was late in the evening, but there was sufficient light for us to recognise each other. I made a sign, and he followed us to a dark spot under the prison walls.

“You know me, Antonio?” I asked.

“Ah yes, señor, the moment I saw you, while we were on the march here. I joined the Godos as the only means of saving my life—having obtained the uniform of a corporal who had been killed. My intention, however, was to desert on the first opportunity.”

“Will you venture to assist the escape of Don Ricardo and Dr Cazalla?” I asked.

“Don Ricardo has already spoken to me, and promised a reward. I will do what I can without the reward, although the money would be welcome. He has promised me three hundred dollars.”

“And I will give two hundred more when he is safe away from the city, and five hundred for Dr Cazalla.”

“Ah, señor, that is more difficult, for he is strictly guarded, and, it is said, is to die to-morrow.”

“To-morrow!” I exclaimed; “then he must escape to-night.”

“Impossible!” answered Antonio; “ten thousand dollars would not effect his liberation. And besides, in endeavouring to free him I might be suspected, and thus be unable to help Don Ricardo.”

“I know that I can trust you, Antonio,” and I put some gold pieces into his hand. “Perhaps you can bribe your comrades; and promise them any further reward you think fit.”

“They would take the money, and betray me,” he answered. “I will employ some of it, however, but it will be in supplying them with abundance of strong wine; that will give me a better mastery over them than any bribe. Trust to my discretion.”

After some further conversation, I arranged with Antonio that he was to try and effect the escape of Uncle Richard, and, if possible, that of Dr Cazalla. The following night he was to be on guard inside the prison, and he would then have the keys in his possession. The most likely time was about ten o’clock; and I arranged to be in the neighbourhood to assist, if necessary, in the escape of my friend.

Mr Laffan approved of the plan, but thought that it would be imprudent for him and me to be seen again near the prison, although we might afterwards join the fugitives. I proposed, therefore, having horses in readiness, and making our way down to Honda, whence we might embark on the river Magdalena; and the current being rapid, we should not occupy more than five days, and might at Carthagena get on board the first vessel about to sail. If we could once reach any of the British West India Islands, we should be safe.

On our return Don José met us as we entered, with an expression of anxiety on his countenance.

“I fear, my friends, you are not exactly what you represent yourselves to be,” he said. “You are honest, I doubt not, and well-conducted, and I wish to fulfil my engagement as far as I can to assist you; but I must advise you to leave this house and the city as soon as possible, or I shall be compromised by your remaining.”

“I am deeply grateful for all your kindness, and will do as you advise,” I answered. “I shall be thankful if I have ever the opportunity of proving my sincerity.”

We should at once have left Don José, but that it was too late to seek a lodging; and as he did not express a wish that we should do so, we remained, promising to bid him farewell the next morning. I sincerely hoped that he would not suffer in consequence of his kindness to us.

We were about to start on the following day, after breakfast, to which our kind host insisted we should remain, when, on looking from the window across the square, we saw, as we had on the morning of our arrival, a body of troops marching from the prison. There was to be another execution, then. My heart sank within me. Was Murillo about to carry out his threat? As they approached I could scarcely support myself, for I saw my uncle, Dr Cazalla, with several other prisoners, nearing the spot where so many of the Patriots had already yielded up their lives for the liberty of their country. There were four other persons. It was certainly some relief not to see Uncle Richard among them; and my whole attention was now concentrated on Dr Cazalla. I pointed out the doctor to Don José, in the vain hope that something might even now be done to save him.

“I know him. He is talented, learned, and noble-minded,” said Don José.

“The world will suffer if he dies,” I said.

“I know it, my friend,” answered Don José; “but his doom is sealed.” He took my arm as he spoke. “I would not have you seen,” he continued. “Be warned by me, and remain concealed until nightfall. Your horses are in my stable, and your servant is prepared for the journey.”

Even while he was speaking the rattle of musketry was heard, and Mr Laffan, who had, notwithstanding Don José’s advice, gone back to the window, exclaimed, “They have murdered our friend! I hope they will not treat the other in the same way.”

“Do you speak of my uncle?” I asked in English.

“Too truly—I do. There he lies, like a clod of earth; and there, too, will lie many more, in a few minutes. There is another! I did not notice him at first. Poor Dona Dolores! what will become of her?”

“What! has Juan been captured?” I exclaimed, my thoughts running back to my friend, who might, I feared, have fallen into the hands of the enemy.

“No, not Juan; but Señor Monteverde.—Yes, I am sure it must be he, though he is poorly dressed, and walks with a tottering gait. Yes; they are leading him up to the place of execution.”

Forgetting Don José’s caution, I sprang forward to the window and caught a glance—it was but a momentary one—of our poor friend. It was sufficient, however, to convince me that I was not mistaken. Don José again took me by the arm and led me back; but a moment afterwards a volley was fired, and an exclamation uttered by Mr Laffan told me that Señor Monteverde was among those slaughtered by the savages.

“It will be sad news to carry to my mother and father, and to Dona Dolores. What will become of her? Her father dead—her property destroyed; but, probably, she herself is by this time in the hands of the Spaniards, and may ere long share the fate of Dona Paula. Shall I ever meet them again?” I murmured.

Other volleys of musketry, which sounded horrible in our ears, too plainly told us what was continuing to take place.

By Don José’s advice, we kept close in our room during the remainder of the day; and it was growing dark when Domingo appeared, with a bundle under his arm.

“I have been provided with this for you to put on, señor,” he said, producing a serving-man’s dress, similar to that which I had worn at Popayan. It was curious that the same disguise should have been chosen. “You are suspected of being a Liberal; and whether you are so or not, you are to be arrested to-night, and probably share the fate of those who were shot this morning. I am desired to tell you, therefore, that you must make your escape as soon as it is dark—you taking one direction, while Señor Miguel and I take another.”

Before I had time to ask further questions, Domingo retired.

I began to put on the dress he had brought me, and was quickly changed into a serving-man. While I was thus engaged Mr Laffan came in, and I told him what Domingo had said.

“But I cannot desert you, Duncan!” he exclaimed. “I will stick by you, whatever happens.”

I soon convinced him that we should thus only increase the risk of being arrested, and advised him at once to make his way to Honda, as we had told Murillo we intended doing. If not molested, he might thence, instead of embarking on the Magdalena, travel over the mountains westward to one of the towns on the Cauca. As he had no proposal to offer against this plan—indeed, there was no other to be pursued—he agreed to it.

“But how will you be able to travel alone?” he asked.

“I do not intend to travel alone, if I can help it,” I answered. “I believe that Antonio will succeed in liberating Uncle Richard, and that I shall be able to help him to make good his escape.”

I was unwilling to leave the house without wishing Don José and his family farewell; and as I was thinking how I could best manage to do so, I discovered a slip of paper pinned on to the front of the jacket, on which was written in a feigned hand,—“I know your feelings, and what you would desire to say; but it is safer that we should not again meet. Farewell. Destroy this when you have read it.”

The paper was not signed, but I guessed it came from Don José.

Domingo having now reappeared, and announced that the horses were ready, we descended to the courtyard. “It will be safer for me to slip out first,” I observed.

To this Mr Laffan agreed.

“You had better take Lion with you,” I said; and I ordered my faithful dog to remain with Mr Laffan. But on this occasion the usually obedient animal was disobedient. When I had made my way out of the yard I found him following me, and I had not the heart to send him back.

I resolved at all risks to join Uncle Richard, should he be able to make his way out of prison; so towards that gloomy building I at once directed my steps. As the town was in total darkness, there being no lamps in the streets, I ran little chance of being detected, while Lion could not be seen a few paces off. In a short time I reached the spot where I had had the conversation with Antonio; and there, crouching down, I awaited the hour he had named. There was but one clock in the city which struck the hours. The time appeared to go very slowly by. Perfect silence reigned through the streets. Neither Royalist nor Republican were at that time inclined to move about in the dark, as assassins too frequently plied their deadly trade, and several persons of both parties had been murdered.

At last ten o’clock struck. I sat with my hand on Lion’s head, listening attentively. The prison door opened; the sentinel challenged, “Quien vive?” and the countersign was returned. Then the door closed, and I heard the sound of footsteps approaching, but they did not seem those of persons attempting flight. My hopes sank. After all, some officer might have visited the prison, and was now leaving it with a guard. I was afraid, consequently, to move; but in another instant Lion rose to his feet, and, though he uttered no sound, bounded forward towards one of the persons approaching.

“That must be Uncle Richard,” I thought. “The dog knows him.”

I was not mistaken; and I was quickly by his side, when I found that he had on the cap and cloak of an officer. The other person who followed close behind him was, I guessed from his uniform, which I could but indistinctly see, Antonio.

Uncle Richard divined who I was, and he put out his hand and grasped mine. I returned the pressure; but we did not venture to speak.

Antonio led the way to the western side of the city. “We must make for the mountains immediately; there will be less risk of the Godos looking for us there,” he said, when we had got between some high convent walls, where no one was likely to overhear us.

One thing was certain, we must get to a distance from the city before daybreak. On that point we were all agreed.

When there was no risk of being seen, we moved as fast as possible; but as we drew near the guard at the entrance of the city we had to walk at a dignified pace. Antonio had given the sign and countersign to Uncle Richard and me, so we passed through without question; it being supposed, in all likelihood, that the officer was on his way to visit some outpost attended by an orderly, while I concluded that I was taken for a guide.

Long before morning dawned we were well among the mountains. Antonio had thoughtfully filled his knapsack with provisions, which, in addition to those I had brought from Don José’s, would serve us for several days. The corporal had also furnished himself with a remarkably good rifle, and a quantity of ammunition. Our intention was to make our way to some place occupied by a Patriot force, of which we hoped to gain intelligence from the peasantry, either Creoles or Indians, the greater portion of whom were likely to prove friendly. It was most important, however, to put as great a distance as possible between the city and ourselves, for as soon as our flight was discovered parties would certainly be sent out to scour the country in search of us.

We rested for a couple of hours under an overhanging rock—to take some food and regain our strength—just before daybreak, and then once more pushed on. None of us, unfortunately, had any exact knowledge of the country. We had therefore to steer by the sun, and to follow the tracks which appeared to lead in the direction we wished to go. Occasionally, when we reached a height from which a view eastward could be obtained, we looked back to ascertain if any one was following. A party on horseback, by galloping over the more level ground, instead of climbing the mountains on foot, might even now overtake us.

The sun was still shining over the hills to the westward, but would shortly disappear behind them, when we saw before us a rapid river rushing between lofty and precipitous cliffs. How to cross it, was the question. We could see no bridge or canoe, and it ran too furiously for us to breast its foaming billows; while it would be dangerous to cross on a raft, even if we could find materials for forming one.

We made our way over the rough ground down the stream.

“I should think we must be safe from pursuit here; but I will just take a look-out from yonder height,” observed Uncle Richard.

He had scarcely got to the summit of the hill when he shouted out, “Here come some suspicious-looking fellows; but they are a good way astern at present, so that we must somehow or other leave them on this side of the river.” After taking another look, to assure himself that he was not mistaken, he rejoined us, and we hurried along the bank.

We had not gone far when Antonio exclaimed, “I see a tarabita! It will serve our purpose; and we must take care that it does not help our enemies across.”

He pointed, as he spoke, towards a long thin rope thrown across from one cliff to the other. On getting up to it we found the bridge—for so it might be called—consisted of a long rope made of hides, the ends secured by stakes driven into the earth; to this a sort of basket was suspended, with two smaller ropes fastened to it—the one reaching to the side we were on, the other to the opposite bank, where a man—apparently the guardian of the so-called bridge—was seated on a log smoking. Antonio shouted to attract his attention; and getting up, he made a sign for one of us to enter.

“You go first, Señor Ricardo,” said Antonio to Uncle Richard.

But the latter insisted on going last, and made me and Lion get into the basket. The bridge-keeper immediately began to haul away, and I soon found myself dangling over a fearful chasm. I was, however, quickly across; and, by means of a rope passing through a block on the side I had left, the basket was immediately drawn back.

Antonio was passed over in the same way, and joined me.

Uncle Richard had, in the meantime, gone to the height overlooking the path behind us, but he soon hurried back and took his seat in the basket.

“Tell the old Indian to be smart in hauling me across,” he shouted out.

The man obeyed; but Uncle Richard was not more than half-way over when we saw a party of soldiers on the height above the river, and I clearly made out that they were Spanish soldiers. Should they reach the end of the rope before Uncle Richard was safe, they might, by threatening to cut it, compel us all to come back; so we hastened to seize hold of the tackle, in order to assist the Indian in dragging the basket over more quickly.

“Take care, señores; you will break it, if you pull too hard,” he observed.

We were not aware whether he had seen the Spaniards coming.

“Haul away,” shouted Uncle Richard.

We obeyed him, and he was soon able to spring on to the ground. His first action on doing so was to grasp Antonio’s sword, and to hack away at the rope, to the great astonishment of the old Indian, who loudly expostulated, and attempted to stop him. But Antonio and I seized the bridge-keeper and held him fast while Uncle Richard finished the operation, and soon the rope swung across to the opposite cliff.

“Now,” said Uncle Richard, “we shall have to make the best use of our legs, or we may chance to have some bullets whistling about our ears.”

We hurried on, hoping to get beyond the range of the firearms of our enemies before they had reached the bank; and we had completely lost sight of them when we heard a volley fired. We only hoped that the poor old Indian had hidden himself in time, and that it was not aimed at him. Whether there was any ford, or other means of crossing the river, further down, we could not tell; it was therefore important to make as rapid progress as possible. A moon was in the sky, about half full, which, in that atmosphere, allowed us to see our way for some distance, so we took great care to profit by it.

At length we saw a light ahead of us. It proceeded from an Indian’s hut, in the centre of which a large fire was blazing. We made our way towards it, hoping to obtain a guide; besides, we required rest, and it was necessary to obtain it at all risks.

The owner of the hut was seated before the fire boiling a pot of cocoa, and he did not appear to be surprised on seeing us.

“Travellers are constantly coming this way, and I was getting some cocoa ready lest any should come in,” he observed.

Uncle Richard said that we should be glad to rest for a few hours, and inquired whether he would guide us over the mountains.

“I cannot do so myself; but my son, who will be here shortly, will willingly do so. He has guided many travellers across the Paramo,” was the answer.

We took our seats around the fire, and the Indian cooked some plantains, which, with the cocoa, served us for supper.

In a short time the son of whom our host had spoken made his appearance. He was a fine, strong youth, and seemed well fitted for acting in the capacity of guide.

He told us that as he was coming over the mountains from a village on this side of the river, to which he had escorted some travellers, he had heard firing, and concluded that there had been a fight between some Liberals and the Godos. “I hope the last were well beaten,” he muttered, looking at Uncle Richard’s military cap.

“So do I,” I observed. “You do not take us for Godos?”

“I judge of people by their conduct, and as yet I have had no opportunity of learning how you behave,” answered the young Indian, with a laugh.

“He is the right sort of fellow,” observed Uncle Richard; “we may trust him.”

I asked him if he had any food for my dog; and going out, he at once returned with some pieces of flesh, off which, although somewhat odorous, Lion made a substantial supper.

“It is the remains of a bear we killed some days ago,” observed the young Indian.

We all lay down round the fire,—Lion sleeping between Uncle Richard and me, and both of us feeling assured that he would give us timely notice should any danger be at hand.

Chapter Twelve.

Our journey continued—Beautiful scenery—Preparing to cross the Paramo—Description of a Paramo—Commence the passage—Skeletons of men and mules—Intensity of the cold—Antonio suffers greatly—He recovers by drinking a draught of cold water—Darkness—Our sufferings on the increase—A strong inclination to sleep—I sink to the ground—Lion arouses me—We reach the Tambo—A night in the hut—Intense cold—Daylight at last—Our passage across the Paramo—Sad sights—The descent of the mountains—Reaching a forest—Padillo goes off to obtain intelligence—We build a hut, and go to sleep—Our hut on fire—A narrow escape.

For several days we had been travelling westward over the mountains. The young Indian, Padillo, as he called himself, had proved a faithful guide. If we were pursued, we had evaded our enemies, and, we hoped, had done so effectually. The scenery through which we passed was extremely wild and grand. Round us appeared mountains piled on mountains, rocks heaped on rocks; and when we fancied that we had reached the summit of an elevation whence we could look down below, another mountain, more grand and terrific, appeared through the veil of mist which before had shrouded it from our sight. It seemed as if we should never escape from this chaos of rocky pinnacles and snow-covered heights. The sky above us was of a clear, bright blue; in some places beautifully streaked, and varied with a silvery hue or pale straw colour, but not a cloud dimming its lustre. Severe as was the cold, as we were in constant exercise we scarcely felt it; while the rarity of the air imparted wonderful lightness and elasticity to our frames, so that sometimes I could scarcely help leaping and bounding forward. At night we generally found shelter in a cave or under an overhanging rock—always keeping up a blazing fire, to scare wild beasts, as well as to afford us warmth.

At last we reached the entrance of a gloomy valley, between lofty and snow-topped mountains, their sides in some places almost perpendicular.

“We must be prepared to push rapidly across the Paramo,” observed Padillo. “It is late in the year, and I do not altogether like the look of the weather. We shall require two days at least to get to the further end. Frequently three days are occupied by persons on horseback, but you march so quickly that we may do it in less time; and there is a tambo about midway where we can obtain shelter.”

“Cross it we must, at all risks,” answered Uncle Richard, who was especially eager to get back to the neighbourhood of Popayan, to ascertain how his family were faring. He intended also to try and raise a corps.

It was not without reason that we dreaded passing across this bleak region. The name of Paramo is given to those inhospitable desert-regions high up among the mountains, of which there are so many in the Andes. No human being can exist in them without keeping in incessant and violent motion. Artificial means are incapable of sustaining life while a person is exposed to the inclement air. Ardent spirits are entirely void of any good effect, and generally increase the evil consequences. These Paramos are usually long deep valleys between lofty elevations, so shut in and obscured by the neighbouring hills as to possess all the severities of their extreme height, while not a ray of sunshine can enter to shed its gentle influence through them. Death almost invariably overtakes those who attempt to rest in them unsheltered at night. The extent of some of them is so great that it requires two or three days to cross them; and in these small houses have been erected, in which cooking utensils and other articles of convenience are kept for the accommodation of travellers, as well as stabling for their mules. Here, by means of large fires, they may manage to keep themselves warm, though even then people suffer greatly.

In consequence of the highly rarefied air, the traveller at first experiences great difficulty in breathing, accompanied by a sharp, piercing pain at each inspiration. This increases until he becomes what the natives call “emparamento,”—when his extremities are benumbed, and he can no longer continue in motion. Soon after this he is seized with violent raving and delirium; froth issues from his mouth; he tears the flesh from his hands and arms with his teeth, pulls his hair, and beats himself against the ground, meanwhile uttering the most piercing cries, until he is quite exhausted. The cold then deprives him of all motion and feeling, his body becomes much swollen, and fearful distortion of the features is produced by the dreadful convulsions he is suffering, while the surface of his skin becomes nearly black. The only remedy the natives know of is to scourge each other, and to drink the cold water from the springs, which are found here and there in most of the Paramos.

We had all of us heard this account of the Paramos, and were fully prepared for the danger we must encounter. Being on foot, we should the better be able to keep ourselves warm; at the same time, we should be the longer exposed to the piercing wind. Already, as we mounted towards this fearful region, we began to experience unpleasant sensations when breathing.

Having taken an ample breakfast, we determined to push on to the tambo, where we must rest until the following morning. It was most important to reach it before dark, for should we be benighted our position would become critical in the extreme. Nerving ourselves for the undertaking, we marched forward. Providentially there was but little wind. As we advanced we saw the skeletons and carcasses of numerous mules; some perfectly blanched by the wind, others still partly covered with flesh, on which numberless galenachas, or black vultures, were busily feasting. The stench proceeding from others not long dead, close to which we had to pass, was most offensive.

“At all events, no human beings appear to have died here,” I observed to our guide.

“Don’t say that, until you have got further,” he answered.

In a few minutes we came in sight of a grinning skull placed on the top of a rock, the body lying below it. A few steps further on we came upon the skeletons of several persons lying with their legs across their mules; both the animal and its rider having evidently succumbed at the same moment.

“This does not look pleasant,” observed Uncle Richard; “but we must not allow it to depress our spirits.”

In spite, however, of the severe exertions we were making, we felt the cold every instant becoming greater. Antonio, though apparently as strong as any of us, became so benumbed that he could scarcely walk. He had brought a small flask of aguardiente, which he confessed he had drained to the bottom, but it had apparently had a bad effect on him. At length his sufferings became so great that we began to fear we must leave him behind, as to carry him on to the tambo would be impossible; though, if left behind, he would certainly die in a few minutes. While he was in this state, Padillo volunteered to go forward, recollecting that there was a spring in the neighbourhood, and urging us to try and reach it. In a short time Padillo returned with the information that the spring was only a little way on; so, while Uncle Richard took one of Antonio’s arms, I took the other, and Padillo, with a stick, kept beating him severely about the body. Whenever Antonio cried out, Padillo answered, “Never mind, friend, never mind; it’s all for your good.” At length, what with pinching his arms, and Padillo’s flagellation, he was kept alive until we reached the spring. Here we compelled him to drink a draught of water, though at first he showed a great unwillingness to swallow it, like a person afflicted with hydrophobia. In a wonderfully short time, however, he perfectly recovered, and declared that he felt warm and comfortable.

Uncle Richard and I then tried the experiment, as we were beginning to feel the sensations Antonio had at first complained of. The attempt, however, was extremely painful; indeed, I felt as if I had swallowed a handful of needles, the which were pricking and tearing the whole interior of my throat in their passage downwards. Directly I had swallowed the water, however, I began to feel a comfortable glow, which in a short time spread equally over me.

The delay, however, might have been fatal to all of us, as darkness had already begun to spread over the deep valley, and we could see no tambo ahead. From the experience we had had, we were sure we could not rest anywhere for an instant, while the danger was great in proceeding in the dark. Still Padillo said he could find the way, and led us on at a swinging trot, we doing our utmost to keep up with him; often, however, I felt a strong inclination to sink down and enjoy a short sleep, if only for a minute or two. I thought that I should soon catch up my companions. The wind had increased, too, and a thick sleet drove through the air, which made us feel as if pins and needles were sticking in our faces.

“This is very unpleasant,” cried Uncle Richard; “but it won’t last for ever, that’s one comfort.”

The darkness increased, and the thought that we should have to go on through such weather as this during the whole night was terrible.

Padillo was leading. Uncle Richard made Antonio walk before him; I, with Lion, who kept close to my heels, continued talking to Uncle Richard for some time, until the desire to stop suddenly overpowered me.

“I hope we shall soon reach the hut,” I said.

“Cheer up—in a few minutes we shall be there,” I heard Uncle Richard say, and at that instant I sank to the ground. I heard the footsteps of my companions as they moved on; but, seized with a kind of insanity, I flattered myself that after a few minutes’ rest I should be able to get up and follow them. For some time, as it appeared to me, though it may have been only for a moment or two, my senses completely left me; then I became conscious that Lion had placed himself above me, and was licking my hands and face. Then I heard him utter a loud bark; after which he began to pull at my clothes, and bark louder and louder, until he succeeded in arousing me. Mercifully, I had still strength sufficient to get up; and as I did so, Lion still pulling at my trousers, I heard Uncle Richard’s voice shouting out, “Duncan! Duncan! come along.” Presently he appeared through the gloom; when he took my hand, and I stumbled forward.

Soon afterwards we heard Padillo shout out, “The tambo, the tambo!”

Though we could not see him, guided by his voice we made our way to the hut. Antonio had already got in and thrown himself on the ground, but Uncle Richard roused him up, and compelled him to assist in lighting the fire. We soon had a genial blaze, at which we warmed our chilled limbs. I saw Lion looking up in my face, as much as to say, “Master, that was a foolish thing you did just now; in another minute you would have been dead, had I not kept some warmth in you with my body.” I patted his head, and he wagged his tail, and smiled as dogs can smile when pleased. In spite of the blazing fire we kept up all night, we felt the cold greatly. Indeed, I had never felt so chilled in all my life; it seemed to pierce to the very marrow. Lion lay down close to the fire, and almost singed his hair, showing that he too was suffering from the cold.

Fearing that the fire might go out, Uncle Richard insisted that one of us should remain awake; and he himself undertook to keep the first watch. We first took our supper, but I fell asleep with a piece of food in my mouth. The training Uncle Richard had had at sea enabled him to keep awake, although I dare say he was as sleepy as any of us.

He at last aroused me, and charged me not to let the fire get low. “I can trust you better than I can Antonio or the guide,” he observed. “However strong may be your impulse to sleep, do not yield to it, as our lives may depend on the fire being kept up.”

I promised to keep a faithful watch, and, rising to my feet, began to walk about. In a moment more Uncle Richard was fast asleep. So strong was the desire I felt to lie down and close my eyes, that I was afraid of stopping, and kept pacing up and down the hut, rubbing my hands together, and every now and then putting on an additional stick, or scraping up the ashes. The time passed slowly by; the wind moaned amid the bleak crags which overtopped the hut, and I fancied I heard the cries of wild beasts. The sleepers, overcome with fatigue, did not even move, and as I gazed at them they looked as if stretched out in death. Every now and then, however, Lion lifted up his head, as if to see that all was right; and just as my watch was over, and I was about to call Antonio, he got up and stretched himself. “Now, Lion, if Antonio drops asleep, remember to call me or Uncle Richard. I will trust you, good dog. You understand?” Lion wagged his tail, and gave a low bark; and I felt confident that he would do as I had ordered him.

I then called Antonio, and gave him the same instructions and warning which Uncle Richard had given me.

“Do not fear, señor,” he answered—giving, however, an ominous yawn; “I’ll keep my eyes open.”

Trusting more to Lion than Antonio, I lay down, and in a few seconds was again fast asleep. How long I had remained in that state I could not tell, when I heard Lion bark close to my ear, and felt him pulling at my clothes. On sitting up, I saw that the fire had burned much lower than it was when I gave up my watch, and that Antonio was asleep. I quickly roused him up.

“It was but for a moment, señor; my eyelids are so very heavy.”

“Look at the fire!” I exclaimed. “It must have been a very long moment since you put anything on. Now, help me to make it up.”

We soon had the fire blazing brightly again, and Antonio promised to keep awake until daylight. Had it not been for Lion, I should not have trusted him. He probably was not aware that the dog had aroused me.

Again I heard Lion bark loudly. The fire, as before, had burned down, and Antonio was again asleep; but on looking out of the door I found that day had broken. I was convinced that Lion had been observing the fire rather than Antonio—considering it his duty to watch it—and that he had called me simply because he saw that it ought to be made up.

I now awakened the whole party, and by the time we had eaten a hearty breakfast the light had increased sufficiently to enable us to continue our journey.

We encountered the same sad sights as on the previous day. There were fewer animals, but many more dead bodies,—some evidently, from their dress, being those of women and children.

“They are those of unfortunate people who were attempting to escape from the Godos,” observed Padillo. “The mountains hereabouts are full of the skeletons of those who have thus perished. But Heaven will punish our oppressors.”

All we saw must have died on their first day’s journey across the Paramo. Those only who had strong mules, or who had found shelter in the tambo, could have escaped. But it would not do to allow our thoughts to dwell upon the subject. Our business was to push on as fast as our legs would carry us. Directly we felt any of the sensations we had experienced on the previous day, we drank at the nearest stream we could reach, but we did not stop to take food.

At length the fearful Paramo was passed; and yet this was only half the size of many which exist in the country. Before dark we reached a tambo situated at a lower level and exposed to the free air, but even there we felt it very cold. In a few days we were rapidly descending, and at last found ourselves almost on a level with the valley of the Cauca, enjoying a tropical temperature, and on the borders of a dense forest. By keeping more to our left we should have continued along the road to Antioquia, but we were uncertain which party then possessed that town. Padillo, however, volunteered to ascertain this while we remained in the forest. We had already paid him his well-deserved reward, with which he seemed highly satisfied.

He had been absent some time, and we were anxiously waiting his return.

“I am afraid he has been seized by the Spaniards, or compelled to conduct one of their parties over the mountains,” I observed.

“He’ll not come back, depend on that,” remarked Antonio. “He has fulfilled his engagement, and will not trouble himself further about us.”

“I will trust the man; and if he can, he will return,” said Uncle Richard. “Here he comes, too!”

Presently Padillo was seen hurrying towards us. “The Godos have possession of all the towns and villages in this neighbourhood,” he said. “If you wish to avoid them, you must keep further down the valley before you cross the Cauca, and then continue up the other side. I wish that I could remain with you, but I know nothing of those western mountains, and should be of no use as a guide.”

He now finally took his leave, promising not to forget us.

Following his advice, we commenced our journey through the forest,—often having to cut our way with our swords, and sometimes to wade across rapid streams which threatened to carry us off our legs. We ran a risk, too, of being bitten by serpents; several of those we observed being of large size, and others of an especially venomous character. Tribes of monkeys were seen on either side of us, leaping from bough to bough, and swinging on the sipos—sometimes running forward jabbering and grinning, as if excited with anger at our daring to invade their domains. As our food had run short, we were compelled to shoot a couple of the rogues for supper.

Night approaching, we made preparations for camping. We had to guard not only against human enemies, but against jaguars, pumas, prowling bears, and snakes. But having cleared a space of sufficient size, we ran some sticks into the ground, which were interwoven with smaller branches, so close together that no jaguar could thrust in its paw, or a bear its snout, nor could any but the smallest snake crawl in. We then thatched it over with large leaves of sufficient thickness to keep out the heaviest rain. As close to the entrance as we dared we piled up sticks, that we might keep a fire blazing all night. There was certainly some little risk in having a fire, as it might attract the attention of any Spaniards in the neighbourhood; but we believed that we were so far off a highroad that no enemies were likely to discover us.

Uncle Richard and I discussed our plans for the future, leaving Antonio to go to sleep, that he might be the better able to watch when it came to his turn. We alternately went to sleep for some hours, until we thought Antonio could be trusted to keep the regular watch.

I was awakened by Lion’s loud bark, and by feeling him pulling at my clothes. Seeing that I was aroused, he next attacked Uncle Richard in the same way. On sitting up, what was my dismay to find that we were in the midst of a bright blaze! The hut was on fire. Antonio, in order to save himself trouble, had raked the embers close up to the entrance, and had then fallen asleep. Uncle Richard, seizing him by the shoulders, dragged him out; while I caught up his gun and the rest of our possessions, and sprang after him through the flames, followed by Lion, who would not leave the hut until he saw us in safety. The whole, however, was the work of a few seconds. Had we remained much longer, the roof would have come down upon us, and, at all events, have burned us severely. As it was, we got pretty well singed.

As we looked back and saw the flames ascending, we had good cause to fear that the trees overhead would catch fire; and if so, a fearful conflagration might ensue. It would be scarcely possible to cut our way through the forest so as to escape it. The danger, therefore, was imminent. Uncle Richard setting the example, we attacked the thatch, and brought it to the ground; while with our swords we cut the grass around wherever we saw the fire creeping along the ground.

A few minutes more, and we should have been unable to subdue the fire. Already some of the shrubs were singed in two opposite directions, but fortunately we saw the snake-like flames creeping forward in time to extinguish them.

As there was no appearance of rain, we scraped the ashes of the fire together, and placing on them a few unburnt sticks, sat ourselves down close to it to wait until daylight, without which it would be impossible to travel through the forest.

Chapter Thirteen.

A hard struggle to get out of the forest—Antonio finds some Cherimoias—Our escape from the wood—Dancing at a marriage-feast—Hospitable entertainment—Guides—Down the river in a canoe—The Spaniards ahead—We camp, and wait to pass them at night—Again embarked—The Spanish camp—A narrow escape—We reach the Cauca—We cross to the left bank, and see Juan with a party of cavalry on the right bank—Pacheco swims across the river, and returns with a note—Juan comes for me on a raft—Uncle Richard and Antonio proceed to Popayan—We reach a farm on the Llanos, and catch and train wild horses for Juan’s troop—Mode of catching wild horses—Joined by Mr Laffan.

The morning found us hacking our way through the forest. As we could discover no path to follow, it was slow work, and the trees seemed to become thicker and thicker as we advanced. Under other circumstances, we might have stopped to admire the wonderful variety of shrubs and creepers which formed the undergrowth; as it was, we had to keep our eyes constantly about us, for at any moment we might have to encounter a huge boa or anaconda, or we might tread upon some venomous serpent, or a tree-snake might dart down upon us from the boughs above. Monkeys, as before, chattered and grinned at us. Parrots, and occasionally large gaily-plumed macaws, flew off from amongst the topmost boughs, startled by our approach.

Hunger and fatigue told us that we had been struggling on for some hours, so, coming to an open space, we determined to stop and dine. Uncle Richard, taking Antonio’s gun, shot a monkey and a couple of parrots; and Antonio and I lighted a fire at which to roast them. But we had no water, and the food made us feel very thirsty. I proposed, therefore, looking for some cocoa-nuts, which, in that part of the country, grow a long way from the sea. We searched around in all the openings we could discover; at last Antonio shouted out that he had found something which would satisfy our wants, and he appeared with a huge melon-looking fruit under each arm. They were the wild cherimoia, which grow to a larger size than the cultivated ones, although not possessing their richness. The slight acidity of the fruit was, however, very refreshing; and, our strength restored, we were soon able to push on as before.

Another day of hard toil was about to close. To pass the night without a fire would be dangerous in the extreme, but as yet we had found no open space in which we could venture to make one. As long, therefore, as the light lasted we continued to press on, in the hope of discovering some suitable spot. Antonio climbed up a palm, by forming his sash into a belt which embraced the trunk—hoping to obtain a good view of the surrounding region from the top. He told us, on his descent, that he had seen the glittering of a river at no great distance to the south-west, and that we should soon be out of the forest. Our continued thirst, which even the fruit did not quench, made us wish to reach the river as soon as possible; so we pushed on, and at length had the satisfaction of getting out of the denser part of the forest, though trees and shrubs extended down to the banks of the river. Darkness overtook us; but the moon rose, and we were able to move forward without much difficulty, expecting every instant to reach the stream.

We were hurrying on, when strange sounds reached our ears. We advanced towards the spot from whence they proceeded, and, on an open space near the bank of the river, we caught sight of what at a distance might have been mistaken for a dance of demons or hobgoblins. But as we drew near we saw, as we had surmised, that they were Indians. Some of them were performing a wild dance in couples, holding their arms above their heads and snapping their fingers; while others were seated on the ground looking at their companions.

“There has probably been a marriage, and they are now performing the dance which usually follows the ceremony by the light of the moon,” observed Antonio. “They are sure to be in good humour, and as they will have plenty of food, they will be ready to treat us hospitably.”

On this assurance we approached the strange group, but the dancers appeared too much engaged in their amusement to notice us. The music was apparently produced by a sort of flageolet, accompanied by a calabash containing some hard seeds or stones, which was rattled in time to the wind instrument.

Some of those seated on the ground at last catching sight of us, advanced and inquired who we were and what we wanted. We told them that we were travellers—our object being to reach the western side of the valley; that we should be glad if one of them, well acquainted with the country, would act as our guide, and that his services should be liberally rewarded. This at once made them friendly; and begging us to sit down, they brought us a calabash of chica, with which they were regaling themselves, some venison, and a variety of cooked roots, and some fruit. The feast was abundant, if not served in a very civilised way, and we did ample justice to it.

We found that our new friends were, as Antonio had supposed, celebrating the marriage of one of their young men by a moonlight dance and feast. The happy bridegroom had just reached his eighteenth year, and his friends had helped him to build a hut and clear a spot in the forest for sowing maize. Being an expert hunter, he had bought mats and earthen pots with the produce of the chase, and had also made several utensils in wood, besides a store of calabashes; these, with a few other articles, served amply to furnish the abode to which he was to take his young wife. He had also, they told us, presented his father-in-law with a deer, part of which we were eating. The conjurer, who performs an important part on such occasions, presented himself to us. Of course he had been invited to the feast, since he acts as the officiating minister and declares the couple united. Our friends, who had already indulged somewhat freely in chica, continued passing the calabash round until they grew very noisy; the old conjurer especially, who, with several others, at length rolled on the ground and dropped off to sleep. The more sober of the party, however, assisted us in putting up a little hut, in which we took shelter,—while they, in spite of their scanty clothing, lay down round the fire, more for the smoke which kept off the mosquitoes than for warmth; indeed, we were now in a complete tropical climate, differing greatly from that of Popayan.

The provisions collected for the feast were sufficient to afford us a good breakfast; and having rewarded our entertainers, we expressed a wish to set out. Instead of one guide, three volunteered to come, saying that each of us would require one; indeed, none of them were disposed to go alone. We found, on reaching the river, that they proposed proceeding down it some distance in a canoe. This, too, would save us from fatigue; and there would be less risk, we hoped, of our falling in with the Spaniards.

We found, on conversing with the Indians, that they had anything but friendly feelings for the Godos, who had carried off several of their people, and on other occasions ill-treated them, compelling them to work without reward. We therefore felt ourselves perfectly safe in their company. Whenever we approached a spot—whether hamlet or farm—where they thought it likely the Spaniards might be quartered, one of them would go on ahead, and, keeping under shelter, creep up and ascertain if such was the case. On each occasion finding that the coast was clear, we continued down the stream. Throughout its course the country on either side was wild and uncultivated, only small patches here and there being occupied by settlers, who owned some of the vast herds of horses and cattle roaming over the broad savannas which extend from the Cauca to the foot of the mountains.

In this region we met with three or four Indian families of the same tribe as our companions, and we learned from the last we encountered that a party of Spaniards occupied a spot on the bank of the river some way lower down, but whether they were marching north or south we could not ascertain. One thing was certain—we must either land on the opposite side to that where they were posted, or pass by during the night. Our Indian friends decided that the latter would be the safest plan to pursue, so we ran the canoe a short distance up a creek with reeds on either side and thickly wooded beyond; a place which afforded us ample concealment, while there was abundance of wild fowl to supply us with food.

The Indians had brought some network hammocks composed of fibre, which they hung up between the trees, and advised us to occupy while they prepared supper. No sooner had we landed than Uncle Richard shot a wild turkey, which we left with the Indians, while we went along the banks of the stream in search of ducks. Our friends’ eyes sparkled in the anticipation of an abundant feast, as they saw us return with four brace of fat birds. The Indians had a big pot, into which they put some venison they had brought with them, and some of the birds cut up, with vegetables of various sorts. These they stirred over the fire, and made a very satisfactory mess, flavoured as it was with chili pepper and other condiments. We ate our turkey simply roasted, however, as it suited Uncle Richard’s palate and my own.

We had still some hours to wait until the Spaniards were likely to be asleep, and the men on guard less watchful. At present, too, the moon was so bright that we should certainly have been seen had we attempted to pass their camp; but clouds were gathering in the sky, and we hoped that before long the moon would be obscured, when we might slip by on the opposite side unobserved. We therefore took advantage of the offer the Indians had made us, and occupied their hammocks; while they sat round the fire talking, and finishing the remains of the stew. Lion had come in for his share of the bones, and now lay down under my hammock with his nose between his paws. The moment I looked out he lifted up his head, showing that, if not wide awake, he was as vigilant as need be, and ready to give notice should there be any cause of alarm.

We were completely in the power of the Indians, no doubt, who might at any moment have deserted us, or delivered us up to the Spaniards, or put us to death for the sake of our clothes and whatever valuables we carried. But we had entire confidence in them. It must be confessed that foreigners have occasionally been killed by the Indians, but in all the instances I have heard the former were the aggressors. We had from the first shown the simple-minded people that we trusted them, and their wish was to prove that our confidence was not misplaced.

The night was far spent when Pacheco, our chief guide, roused us up.

“The moon has kindly veiled her face to enable us to pass the Godos unperceived,” he said. “Up, señors, up! we will start at once.”

Jumping out of our hammocks, the Indians quickly rolled them up and carried them down to the canoe, on board which they had already placed the rest of their property. By their advice we lay down in the bottom. I kept Lion by my side, so that in case he should be inclined to bark I might at once silence him. Pacheco steered, while the other two Indians rapidly plied their paddles, and we glided at a quick rate down the stream. We soon approached that part on the northern shore at which the Spaniards were supposed to be posted, and we therefore kept to the opposite side. Not a word was spoken, and we all lay close; so that, had the canoe been seen, the enemy would have supposed that only three Indians were in her. We could hear the guard relieved, with the sentries exchanging the sign and countersign; and during the time this ceremony was going forward our canoe shot by the place without challenge.

In the hope that we were safe, we were about to get up out of our uncomfortable position, when a voice hailed us and ordered the canoe to be brought up to the bank.

“Paddle on!” I heard Pacheco say to his men; and directly afterwards a shot came whistling over our heads. “Don’t be afraid of that,” again whispered Pacheco—“we shall soon be out of sight of the Godos; although they may fire, they will not hit us.”

The Indians, without uttering a sound to show that they felt any alarm, continued paddling away. Shot after shot was heard; but the Spaniards must have at length discovered that their prey had escaped them.

We continued our course until the morning, when we saw before us the Cauca, on the opposite side of which we wished to land. The Indians crossed the larger river, and pulling up for some short distance, we entered a creek thickly shaded by trees. Here there was no risk of being seen by enemies on the other shore. Pacheco, who had engaged to act as our guide, landed with us, and gave directions to his people to wait his return.

The stream by which we had entered the Cauca had carried us much further down the course of that river than we had intended to go; we had, therefore, now to make our way up it before we struck westward to Oro, the town at which I had arranged to meet Mr Laffan. Our guide advised us to continue along the bank of the river, as we should thus make our way more easily than by striking diagonally across the country. Having carefully husbanded our powder and shot, too, we were enabled to supply ourselves amply with food; and we were never in want of wild fruits which in most countries would be considered very delicious.

It was towards the evening of the second day, and we were about to encamp, when Antonio, who had gone down to fill a calabash with water at the river, came back saying that he had seen a small party of cavalry, who had come down to let their horses drink.

“Are they Spaniards?” asked Uncle Richard.

“No, señor; they appear to me, by their dress, to be Patriots.”

On this we all crept down to the bank, keeping under shelter, to observe the strangers; and on seeing them we were convinced that Antonio was right. While I was looking I observed another horseman, who by his dress appeared to be an officer, join the people, and on watching his movements I felt almost certain that he was my friend Juan. So convinced was I of this, that I advanced to the water’s edge and hailed him; but the noise of the horses prevented him hearing my voice. “What would I give to communicate with him!” I exclaimed. “Is no canoe to be found near, by which we can cross the stream?”

I explained my wishes to Pacheco.

“If you are certain that they are friends, I will swim across,” answered Pacheco.

I assured him of this, and hastily wrote a note to Juan, begging him to wait for me, and I would try to get across the river to join him.

Pacheco placed the note inside his hat, on the top of which he fastened the short trousers and girdle he wore. He then cut two thick pieces of bamboo, with a still larger piece pointed at both ends, and taking them in his hand plunged into the water.

“Are you not afraid of the alligators?” asked Uncle Richard, under the idea that those creatures frequented the stream.

“There are few above the rapids, and those only of small size,” answered Pacheco; “if one comes near me, he will feel the point of this bamboo.”

Resting his chest on the stout pieces of cane, and striking out with his hands and feet, he made rapid progress towards the opposite shore. At length Juan saw him coming, and at the same time observed us waving, though he might not have known who we were. He probably guessed, however, that we were friends, and that the Indian was coming across to speak to him, for he rode towards the spot where our guide was about to land.

Pacheco gave Juan the note, and I saw him take a paper from his pocket and write an answer, which he delivered to the Indian, who, without stopping to rest, recrossed the river. Once I saw him give a dig with his bamboo, but the object at which he aimed was not visible. It might have been an alligator, or a water-snake, or a big fish; but it seemed to concern him very little, for he again came towards us, and landed in safety.

I eagerly took Juan’s note.

“I will wait for you,” it ran. “Come across, if you can find a canoe; if not, wave your handkerchief, and I will have a raft formed, and come for you. No time for more.—Juan.”

As Pacheco assured us that we were not likely to find a canoe within a considerable distance, I at once made the sign agreed on, whereupon I saw Juan’s men immediately begin to cut down with their manchettes a number of large canes which grew near. These they bound together with sipos, and in a very short time a raft sufficiently large to bear several persons was formed. The thick ends of some of the canes were shaped into scoop-like paddles, and Juan with four of his men at once embarked and commenced the passage of the river. As soon as the raft was sufficiently near the shore he sprang to the land, and embraced Uncle Richard and me. He looked paler and considerably older than when we last parted, and as if he had seen much hard work.

Uncle Richard’s first question was, very naturally, for his wife and daughter; and I too asked after my family.

“They are still residing among the mountains, among some faithful Indians, with Paul Lobo as their guardian. Dr Sinclair thinks it prudent to keep in hiding while the Godos occupy Popayan, in case the monster Murillo should order his arrest. I lately heard that he was well, in spite of the trying life he, in common with so many other Patriots, is obliged to lead.”

“And Dona Dolores?” I asked.

“She is safe with your mother and Dona Maria; I myself escorted her to their cottage, after I had the happiness of rescuing her from the Spaniards.”

“Is she aware of her father’s death?” I inquired.

“What!” exclaimed Juan, “has the tyrant dared to murder the old man?”

“I grieve to say so; as well as my poor uncle, Dr Cazalla, and many other of our country’s noblest Patriots.”

Juan lifted his hands to heaven, and prayed that their deaths might be avenged. What a change a few months had produced in him! Instead of the gay, thoughtless youth, he was now the stern soldier, ready to dare and do any deed full of peril. I told him of the murder of Dona Paula; at hearing which his eyes flashed fire, while he uttered expressions I dare not repeat.

I asked him what object he had in view in coming in this direction.

“I am proceeding to Llano Grande, for the purpose of collecting horses, and training them for our cavalry, as a large number of those in my troop have died from hard work and exposure on the Paramo of Purace, when we crossed the mountains to attack the Spanish convoy. I earnestly hope that you, Duncan, will join me; you will be of the greatest assistance, and I am certain that you are not required to help your father or mother. They are less likely to be molested than if it were known that you had joined them.”

I felt a great desire to accept Juan’s proposal, and put it to Uncle Richard whether I might not do so.

He considered a minute. “Yes; I see no objection,” he answered. “I will continue my journey with Antonio, and try to communicate with Mr Laffan. Possibly he may join you, and be of service.”

Accordingly, without hesitation, I at once agreed to accompany Juan; and wishing my Uncle Richard and his two companions farewell, I embarked with my friend.

“As soon as I have seen Señor Ricardo safe, I intend to make my way back to rejoin you,” said Antonio. “If you are going to tame wild horses, you will find it a long business, and are not likely to have left the neighbourhood before I can get back to you.”

Juan told me that he intended to ride some miles further before camping, as we were near a Spanish force; and should the enemy gain intelligence of us, they might attempt to surprise us.

When Lion saw me embark, he gave a look at his former master, as if to ask which of us he should accompany; but Uncle Richard pointed to me, and he immediately leaped on the raft.

By the time we landed, Juan’s small troop were in readiness to move on. He had, fortunately, a spare horse, which I mounted; and I confess that I felt my spirits rise wonderfully when I found myself in the saddle, after so many days’ journeying on foot.

We rode on until we reached the borders of a wood which would serve to shelter our camp-fires. There the horses were picketed, while patrols were sent out to give due notice of danger. Though in our native land, we had to act as if in an enemy’s country. However, we invariably found the country-people ready to give us all the information we required as to the whereabouts of the Spaniards, and were thus able to avoid them. Had it not been for this, the Patriots would have been crushed by the superior force the Spaniards were bringing against them. While we could always learn the movements of our enemies, and obtain an ample supply of food, the Spaniards were unable even to trust their own spies; and it was only by means of strong foraging-parties that they could collect provisions.

We thus reached our destination,—a farmhouse situated on a slope at the foot of the mountains, with the wide llanos stretching out before it. Having an extensive view over the plain from this point, we could see the approach of an enemy from a great distance; and, according to the strength of their force, we might either prepare for resistance, or make our escape. An enclosure ran round it, formed by trunks of trees driven into the ground close together. It had been formed years before, for the purpose of resisting attacks by the Indians, and would still enable a body of men to hold their own against any small force of infantry or cavalry, though, for the present, we did not expect to be molested.

The men Juan had brought with him were accustomed to the life of the llanos, and no time was lost in commencing the work for which they had come. The very next morning the whole party started off provided with lassoes,—Juan and I accompanying them. The herds of wild horses were accustomed to come close up to the farm, so that we had not to go far before we fell in with a herd. The men then separated into parties of two, forming a circle round the animals they wished to capture. The wild horses, seeing strangers advancing from all sides, closed up towards the centre, not knowing in which direction to make their escape; when the men galloped forward, lasso in hand, each singling out an animal, round whose neck he seldom failed to throw the noose. The horse would then dash forward, but was as speedily brought up by the rope; and the well-trained steed of the Llanero, throwing itself back, and pressing its fore, feet against the ground, effectually checked it, and threw it upon its haunches, or right over on its back. Another Llanero would then dexterously cast his lasso round the animal’s fore-feet, and by a jerk bring it round its legs. By slightly slackening the rope round its neck, the horse was enabled to get up, when its first impulse was to dash forward; but it was brought to the ground by the lasso round its legs, with a jerk sufficient, it would seem, to break every bone in its body. The horse would then lie motionless while its hind feet were secured.

The first horse I saw caught in this manner, I thought was dead; but after a time it regained its consciousness, and, giving some convulsive plunges, again got on its legs. Before it had even time to look about, it was led off by some of the Llaneros to a post near the farm, where, in spite of its desperate struggles, it was saddled and bridled. Its strength regained, it began to bite, plunge, and kick in all directions, the Llaneros nimbly getting out of the way. One of the more experienced riders, watching his opportunity, then leaped into the saddle, and signed to one of his companions to cast off the lasso from its legs. The animal, finding itself free, darted off, and then commenced to back, plunge, and whisk round and round, sometimes dashing on for a few paces at a furious pace, and then recommencing its eccentric movements. The rider, however, stuck on; and another Llanero coming behind, administered a lash with his long cutting whip, which made the poor animal start off with a snort like a scream. No one but a well-trained horseman could have kept his seat in the way our men did. As it darted ahead, two other Llaneros rode on either side to keep the wild animal straight. Off it went across the level country for a league or more, occasionally stopping to back and kick; each time its efforts grew fainter, until at last we saw it come back, its eyes bloodshot, its whole body covered with foam and blood, and perfectly bewildered. It was then unsaddled and tied to a post, there to remain until hunger made it willing to accept the food and water offered to it. Thus, in the course of a day a number of horses were captured; but they were all young animals, and as yet scarcely fit for work.

Next came the operation of breaking them in, which occupied a much longer time. In this, Juan and I took a part. Every man we had with us was engaged from sunrise to sunset—or even later, when the moon shone brightly—as it was of the greatest importance to have some well-trained animals ready for service as soon as possible.

Fresh men continued to arrive, having made their way over the mountains to avoid the Spaniards, bringing their saddles and bridles, arms and accoutrements. Of course, they at once took part in catching and training the horses. The young animals were most easily broken-in, but they were less capable of enduring fatigue than the older horses.

We had been about a month thus engaged, when, as Juan and I were leaving the farm for an afternoon’s sport, as we called it, we caught sight of a horseman—evidently, from his costume, not one of our own men—galloping across the plain towards us. As he drew nearer, I thought I recognised his bearing and figure.

“Hurrah!” I exclaimed; “I believe that’s Mr Laffan.”

“I hope so, indeed,” answered Juan. “He will be a host in himself; and I suspect he will be able to train a horse as well as the best of us.”

Mounting our steeds, we galloped forward to meet him; and with unfeigned pleasure I soon saw that it was no other than my former tutor.

“I am thankful to fall in with you again, my dear fellows,” he exclaimed. “I thought at one time that I should never have got here. Mr Duffield told me where to find you, but those rascally Spaniards nearly caught me. I escaped them, but I had to hide away for several days until the coast was clear. However, here I am, and shall be mighty glad of some food, for I’m desperately sharp-set.”

We returned to the farm with Mr Laffan, where we gave him our usual fare,—dried beef and plantains; for we were not living luxuriously. Except some chica, we had no beverage stronger than coffee or cocoa to offer him; but he declared that such provender would serve him as well as any other.

As soon as the meal was over, Mr Laffan begged to have a fresh horse, and insisted on accompanying us. “I have had a little experience in this sort of work,” he said, “and may be able to catch a horse or two. At all events, I can break-in a few. I have no wish to eat the bread of idleness.”

Mr Laffan was as good as his word, and took good care to select a first-rate animal for himself, which, by dint of constant practice, he got well broken-in. Juan and I were equally fortunate, and were much indebted to him for the training of our steeds.

As few persons came near the farm, which was remote from all thoroughfare, the Spaniards did not get notice of our proceedings; and we were thus, by dint of hard work, and the valuable assistance rendered by Mr Laffan, able to get together a very efficient body of cavalry.

Chapter Fourteen.

The campaign commenced—We join the Patriot army—Orders to hold the fort of Guamoco against all assailants—A thunderstorm—Survey of the fort from a height—The enemy in the distance—We take possession of the fort, and repair it—Spanish officers appear—Two of them shot by our men—The Spaniards attack us fiercely, but are driven back—They return, to meet with another repulse—The enemy at length retire—We expect another attack.

Important events had meanwhile been taking place. Bolivar had assembled a considerable army, of which upwards of two thousand foreign troops—mostly disbanded British soldiers—formed the most serviceable part. Whenever they met the enemy, the English exhibited the hardihood and courage which they had displayed on many hard-fought fields in the Peninsula, and lately at Waterloo. We heard, too, that they were led by several experienced officers who had taken part in those campaigns.

The fearful atrocities which had been committed by Murillo, Boves, Morales, indeed by almost all the Spanish generals, had aroused the spirit of the people throughout the country, and we looked forward to the time when we should free our beloved land from the presence of the hated tyrants.

At length being considered in an efficient state, with wild delight we received orders to join the Patriot forces. Before long we had several skirmishes with the enemy, and in a gallant charge—in which Mr Laffan distinguished himself—we put to flight a superior force of King Ferdinand’s hussars. These hussars were the scorn of our wild horsemen, and the contrast between the two was great indeed. The arms and appointments of the hussar were a sad encumbrance in this climate. He had his lance, sword, carbine, and a brace of pistols; and his clothing and trappings were those of a Hungarian trooper. He was obliged to have his horse’s tail cut short, for on several occasions a Llanero was known to have galloped up to the rear of a trooper, dismounted in an instant, and seizing the horse by its long tail, by a sudden jerk contrived to throw it on the ground, and then despatched the rider. Our fellows, when charging, used to lay their heads and bodies on the necks of their horses, carrying their lances horizontally in the right hand about the height of the knee, so that when the Spaniards fired they seldom managed to hit them.

I was seated with Juan in the hut which formed our headquarters. We had not troubled ourselves with tents, for our men slept on the ground during the dry season, except when we were quartered in a farmhouse or a village. We had been talking over the prospects of the campaign, when an orderly, riding up to the entrance of the hut, delivered a despatch to Juan. He read it eagerly.

“We are ordered to ride on to the Pass of Guamoco, as no infantry can reach it in time to prevent the Spaniards—who are marching towards it—obtaining possession,” he said. “Order the assembly to be sounded, Duncan.”

While I hastened to carry out his order, he hurriedly wrote a few lines on a rough piece of paper, which had not a very official appearance, and gave it to the orderly, directing him to deliver it to the general. In a wonderfully short time we were in the saddle, and moving towards our destination.

Juan then told me that he had been directed to take possession of a fort of some strength, which guarded the entrance of a pass through which Bolivar intended to make his way, but which, if occupied by the enemy, would be impracticable. It was thus of the greatest importance that we should take possession of it. “The general orders me to hold the fort until an infantry regiment arrives to garrison it,” added Juan.

“I hope they will put the best foot foremost, then, for I have no wish to be cooped up in a fort when we should be doing service in the open country,” said Mr Laffan.

We pressed forward at a rate which none but light horsemen such as ours could have kept up. Nothing stopped us: up hills and across valleys we scampered; pushed through forests, or waded over marshes; forded or swam rivers when they crossed our way, without a moment’s hesitation. We ran, indeed, a regular steeplechase. We were obliged to camp at night, however, to rest and feed our horses; but during the day we halted not a moment longer than was absolutely necessary. Hardy as were our steeds, they at length began to show signs of fatigue, but Juan encouraged the men to proceed.

“They will have time enough to rest when they get to the fort,” he said,—“provided the enemy are not there before us.”

We had gone on all day, and were still about four leagues from our destination when night overtook us. The road ahead, our guide informed us, was worse than any we had yet passed over, and that had been bad enough. It would be dangerous, he said, if not altogether impossible, to get our weary steeds over the ground in the dark. Still Juan, obedient to orders, would have continued the route, when a thunderstorm, which had been for some time gathering in the sky, burst over our heads. We were, fortunately, near a farm with a number of outbuildings and sheds about it, beneath which we took shelter. The rain fell literally in sheets of water, which quickly flooded the road; the lightning flashed with a vividness I had seldom before seen; and the thunder rattled and crashed as if huge rocks, rather than impalpable clouds, were being hurled against each other.

Juan now saw that it would be impracticable to advance until daylight; but he also knew that the enemy would not venture to march, so that, even if they were at an equal distance from the fort, we should get there first. He accordingly announced that he should remain during the night; so the men employed themselves in cooking their supper, rubbing down their horses, and in other ways, until they lay down to sleep in the driest spot they could find. The officers occupied one of the rooms of the house.

It was somewhere about two or three o’clock in the morning when Juan roused me up.

“I intend to ride on ahead of the party, in order to reach an elevated spot by daybreak, from whence I can take a survey of the fort and the surrounding country, and therefore learn the ground on which we may possibly have to operate,” said he. “You will come with me, Duncan?”

I sprang to my feet. “I am ready to set out immediately,” I answered, giving myself a shake.

Juan’s servant brought us some cups of coffee, which we drank while our horses were being got ready, and in less than five minutes we had mounted. The storm had passed away, and innumerable stars shone out in the blue sky with wonderful brilliancy. We were obliged, however, to walk our horses, as it was with difficulty we could in many places see the road. Our last day’s journey had been over ground of a considerable elevation, and we were still ascending.

Daylight broke while we were still on the road, and pushing on our horses, we reached the spot for which we were aiming. It was a lofty bluff with precipitous cliffs below us, beneath which there were several lesser elevations, and beyond, a wide valley opening into a vast plain. We here found ourselves far above the clouds, which spread like a canopy over the scene at our feet—a few tree-tops, the tower of a village church, and here and there, perched on heights, the roofs of some farmhouses. Immediately below us was the fort we were to occupy. It seemed as if we could almost leap down into it; though it was in reality too far off to be commanded from the height on which we stood, even had the enemy dragged up guns; but the path by which we had come was altogether impracticable for artillery, so we had no fear on that score. A short distance beyond the fort ran a rapid stream, which, descending from the mountains on our left, passed through the valley, and contributed materially to the strength of the position, as troops marching to the attack would have to ford it in face of the fire from the garrison. As far as we could see, the fort was still unoccupied; but the mist prevented us ascertaining positively if this was the case.

“I would that the clouds were away,” said Juan, “to learn whether they are now concealing our approaching foes!”

Here and there the mist appeared to be breaking or rising, and we watched eagerly for the moment when the whole face of the country would be exposed to view.

“Our men ought by this time to have got nearly round to the fort,” observed Juan, looking at his watch; “and once inside, I hope that we shall be able to defend it against the Spaniards, though they may come only a few minutes after we have taken possession.”

The sun now rose over the mountain-tops, his beams gradually dispelling the mists which had obscured the view. Still they hung over the valley, and we remained uncertain as to whether the enemy had had time to reach the fort below us. While we were thus eagerly watching, we caught sight of the head of our column rounding the foot of the mountain; but though visible to us, it could not as yet be seen by any one in the fort, and we were thus still in doubt as to the important fact we wished to ascertain.

“I gave directions to Captain Laffan to send forward and find out whether the fort was occupied, before exposing the troop to view,” said Juan.

As he spoke we saw two of the horsemen ride forward, and Juan resolved to remain until the result was known. We now took a careful survey of the country before us.

“I can nowhere see a body moving which has the appearance of troops,” observed Juan. “But there are so many woods and inequalities in the ground by which they might be concealed, that we must not trust to that. If, however, they have not already got possession of the fort, we shall have ample time to make such preparations as may be required for our defence. Duncan, take you the glass and see if you can discover anything which may have escaped my eye.”

I did as he requested, and swept the surrounding country again and again. At last I saw what I thought looked like a dark shadow creeping slowly along over the brow of a hill from the westward, and descending towards us. Here and there was a slight glitter, as if the sun’s rays were playing on polished steel.

I handed the glass to Juan, who was soon satisfied that what we saw was a body of troops. As, however, they were still some leagues away, and as they had a river to cross and some heights to climb, it would be several hours before they could reach the fort. We now felt sure that it, at all events, was not yet occupied. Dismounting, therefore, we led our horses down a steep path, by which we were at length able to rejoin our regiment. About the same time the scouts came back with the information that the fort was unoccupied. We accordingly rode forward and took possession.

It consisted of a strong stockade composed of whole logs of wood, with a deep trench in front of it. The huts were in a very dilapidated condition, but they would still afford some shelter to the garrison; while a stone tower in the centre, also surrounded by a trench, formed a sort of citadel as well as a storehouse. It comprised a ground floor, with a vault beneath, which served as a magazine, and two stories above without any divisions. In one of these were a few rough articles of furniture, which had been intended for the use of officers; and in the upper story, which had been used as an hospital, were a number of bedsteads covered with hides; while above the roof was a loopholed wall running all round, for musketry. Behind the fort was a wide space completely protected by impracticable heights and the fort in front, on which our horses could be turned out to graze. The Spaniards had most unaccountably left behind three guns, which, though spiked, were serviceable in other respects; and in the storeroom we found shot for them.

We had brought, I should have said, nearly two dozen horse-loads of ammunition—including powder for the guns which we had hoped to find—as well as the same number of animals laden with provisions. But, of course, as they had to travel as fast as our horses, they could carry but a very limited load.

Not a moment was lost in setting to work to repair the fort. Juan told the men how we had seen the enemy approaching, and consequently they laboured away with might and main. Trees were cut down from the hill-side above the fort, and dragged in to repair the stockade. The trench was cleared out; and shelter erected for the horses, which it would be absolutely necessary to retain inside in case of requiring them on an emergency. The men, accustomed from their earliest days to hard labour, toiled away without cessation. By night we had repaired the fort, and were ready for our enemies should they appear; but as yet we had not got a sight of them, and I began to fancy that Juan and I had been mistaken. Under Mr Laffan’s directions, our farriers had contrived to extract the nails with which the guns were spiked, and all three were mounted and got into position during the night. A vigilant watch was kept, for should the enemy really have been approaching, they would very probably attack us before daylight.

Morning, however, came, and no sign of the foe being in sight. Though we had a flag with us, and a flagstaff stood in the fort, Juan would not have it hoisted; while the men were directed to keep as much under cover as possible, so that the Spaniards might not discover we had possession of the fort.

All the work outside had been finished, but we continued strengthening it, and making such, improvements as were necessary in the inside.

It was about noon when one of the sentries gave notice that he saw some people on the opposite side of the river. We watched them. Evidently they were Spanish officers reconnoitring the fort, and from their movements they seemed to doubt whether it was already occupied. At last, apparently satisfied that they were in time to take possession, two of them began to ford the stream. Before they had got half-way over, however, several of our men, without orders, fired, and they both fell, being carried down by the current. Juan rebuked his followers for this wanton act—at which the men seemed very much astonished. Several others who were following, and of whom we caught a glimpse, immediately retreated.

We now expected every moment to see the main body approaching to the assault, as it was not likely they would allow us to retain peaceable possession of so important a post, if they fancied they could capture it. Mr Laffan had charge of the guns, with the few men among us who had ever had any practice with artillery. There were, however, no more than two to each gun who had loaded and fired one before. Mr Laffan had to keep running backwards and forwards, to see that they put in the powder first and the shot afterwards, and rammed it home. In a short time the Spaniards advanced under cover, showed themselves on the bank of the stream, where they extended their line, and commenced a hot fire at the fort. We, keeping under shelter, did not reply to it until they commenced crossing the stream, when we opened on them with our guns. They evidently had not supposed that we possessed artillery; for they were at once thrown into confusion, and began to retreat, when numbers were brought down by our musketry, while our guns, being reloaded, again sent their shot among them.

We now ran up the Republican flag and shouted “Victory;” but we were mistaken in supposing that the enemy were put to flight. In the course of a short time a far larger body appeared, led by other officers, who behaved with great courage. At once they dashed across the stream,—we receiving them with a hot fire, our men loading and discharging their pieces as fast as they could, while our guns, considering the inexperience of the gunners, were well served. I could scarcely help smiling as I saw my old dominie spring from gun to gun, and point it at the thickest of the foe. One of the officers who appeared in command must have fallen, and although the others behaved with considerable gallantry, they failed to induce the men to come up to the stockades. Once more they retired across the stream, and many lost their lives.

After this they contented themselves with getting behind such cover as they could find, and firing at the fort. Had they possessed guns, the tables would, I suspect, soon have been turned, as our comparatively light defence must quickly have been knocked to pieces. The thickness of the stockades, however, prevented their bullets from entering, and a few only of our men who exposed themselves were hit,—two being killed, and three wounded. Out of our small garrison, however, that number was of consequence.

We continued firing away with the guns and musketry at the points where the Spaniards were concealed, but what damage we produced among them we could not tell. This style of fighting lasted several hours, while we every moment expected to be again attacked. Not a Spaniard who had fallen wounded was allowed to live, for our bullets quickly put them out of their pain.

At length the firing ceased, and we saw the enemy retiring—a round shot or two sent after them by Mr Laffan expediting their movements. The victory was decidedly on our side; but we knew full well that we might again be attacked by a superior force, and perhaps that very night. Therefore, as before, a vigilant watch was kept, so that, should they attempt a surprise, we might be ready to receive them.

Chapter Fifteen.

Captain Laffan and I go out to reconnoitre—A prisoner—Gaining information—The Spaniards twice assault the fort, and are repulsed with slaughter—We lose a number of men—A council of war—Scarcity of ammunition and provisions—Don Juan invites two of us to obtain assistance—Laffan and I undertake the duty—We set out—Narrowly escape the Spaniards—Enter a town lately sacked by them—Obtain refreshment—Directed on our course—A bivouac for the night—We proceed next morning—Laffan’s horse bitten by a snake—My companion trudges forward on foot—We reach a farm—Obtain shelter and food, a horse and a guide, and continue our journey.

Juan and most of our little garrison exulted in the idea that, after the defeat we had inflicted on the Spaniards, they would abandon the attempt to take the fort, and retire from the neighbourhood.

“Do not be too sure of that,” said Captain Laffan; “they will watch their opportunity, and attempt to surprise us if we are off our guard. They know the value of the pass too well to leave us in quiet possession. They may be looking all this time for a path over the mountains, to try and take us in the rear; though they would find that a hard matter, to be sure.”

Juan, however, still persisted in his belief that the Spaniards had retired, and turned their attention to some other enterprise. Fearing that this opinion would make him and his followers less vigilant, I volunteered to go out and reconnoitre.

“You shall not go alone,” said Mr Laffan.

“No,” I answered; “I intend to take Lion with me.”

“I intend to go also,” he replied. “I have done a little skirmishing in my day, and three pairs of eyes will take in more than two. Indeed, I do not think you should count much on the services Lion may render.”

“He will, at all events, give us timely notice should we get near a sentinel, or should one of the enemy approach us,” I remarked.

“You are right,” answered Mr Laffan. “We will go together; and I am pretty strongly of opinion that we shall bring Don Juan word that the enemy are not far off.”

“But shall we go by night or day?” I asked.

“At night we should have the advantage of being able to get up to the enemy without being seen,” said Mr Laffan; “but we should be quite as likely to find ourselves in their midst before we had discovered where they were. Whereas in daylight, though we may find more difficulty in approaching them, we shall be able to see any of their men moving about at a distance. During the day, too, they will be less likely to be on the watch for scouts.”

It was finally settled, after a discussion in which Juan and the other officers took part, that we should leave the fort just before dawn, and remain concealed until daylight, when we were to make our way in the direction in which it was most probable that we should find the Spaniards, if they were still in the neighbourhood. This plan was finally agreed on; and Captain Laffan, Lion, and I, at the hour fixed on, left the fort, and made our way across the river to a grove of trees which afforded us sufficient concealment; while, should the Spaniards themselves have sent out any reconnoitring party to ascertain what we were about, we should to a certainty discover them.

As soon as it was daylight we continued our route, Lion going on just before me, and turning round frequently to see if I was following. By his conduct, I was very sure that he understood the object of our expedition. We kept as much as possible under cover; occasionally when we came to open ground we ran across it in a stooping posture, so that, should we be seen by those at a distance, we might be mistaken for animals. We had gone nearly a league without observing a human being, when we caught sight of a small hamlet in the distance, with a wood on one side, and a stream partly encircling it.

“That’s a likely place for the enemy to have occupied,” observed Mr Laffan; “and if they are in the neighbourhood, we shall find them there.”

We now approached more cautiously than before, while Lion showed a considerable amount of excitement, as if he believed that an enemy was near. Presently he stopped short, then advanced slowly, like a tiger stealing on its prey, glancing back every now and then to ascertain if we were following. Again he stopped, and then came running towards us, when, placing himself directly before me, he pointed with his nose in the direction he had before been taking.

We at once guessed that some one was concealed behind the brushwood; but if a sentry, he had not discovered us, or he would have fired. We accordingly determined to seize him and gain what information we could. Making a sign to Lion to keep behind, we cautiously crept on, bending almost to the ground, and completely hidden by the bushes. I made a motion to Lion to seize the man, if there was one. He understood me; and as he sprang forward we heard a half-stifled cry. The next instant we saw Lion struggling with a soldier, who had dropped his musket, and was endeavouring to draw his knife to thrust into the dog’s body.

We grasped the fellow’s arms, and quickly mastered him. It was at once evident that he had been sitting down, while we were approaching, to light his cigarrillo; or perhaps he might have dropped off to sleep. Releasing him from Lion, we threatened him with instant death if he opened his mouth or attempted to escape. Then, each of us taking an arm, we dragged him along towards the fort.

“If we carry this fellow with us, he will to a certainty be put to death,” I observed to Mr Laffan.

“I don’t like the idea of that,” said he.

“Nor do I,” I answered. “The best thing we can do is to get what information we can out of him, then bind him to a tree, and leave him. The Spaniards will discover him in time, and will yet be none the wiser.”

“A good idea,” said Mr Laffan.

The captive Spanish soldier looked imploringly at us, fully expecting that his minutes were numbered.

“We do not intend to kill you,” I said, “if you will give us a faithful account of the number of troops in this neighbourhood, and what it is intended they should do,—whether they are about to attack the fort again, or to march away; and if so, where they are going.”

“Have I your word of honour?” asked the Spaniard, looking at me, very much puzzled to know who I could be, as he heard me speak in English, and then address him in genuine Spanish.

“You have my word. We have no wish to murder our enemies,” said I.

“That’s more than I can say for my countrymen,” he answered. “I will tell you frankly, señor. There are a thousand men in yonder camp. It was intended to attack you again to-night. Our officers have resolved to capture the fort at all risks, and they have told the men it must be done. If you will undertake, señor, to protect my life, I will follow you, and serve you faithfully. I would rather do that than have again to assault yonder fort.”

“I believe what you say,” I answered; “but I cannot venture to take you with me, for the Patriots would instantly put you to death, as they have vowed to do with every Spaniard who falls into their hands.”

“I must submit to my hard fate, then,” said the man.

“You will regain your liberty in a few hours,” observed Captain Laffan.

“Ah, señor, if I am caught I shall be shot for sleeping at my post. If you will give me my liberty I will run away, and not again fight against you.”

“The very best thing such a fellow as you can do. I think we may trust you,” said Captain Laffan.

We led our prisoner on until within a short distance of the fort, when, instead of binding him, we let him go. He bolted away to the northward,—showing that he fully intended to carry out his promise.

On our return to Juan, he thanked us warmly for the service we had rendered.

As may be supposed, we were all on the watch; and about two hours before dawn we caught sight of the Spaniards advancing to the attack. As they crossed the river, we opened a heavy fire upon them; to which they replied, and then rushed forward, attempting to storm the stockades. The fort, from one side to the other, was in a blaze of light. Each man was fighting with desperation, and hurling back those who crossed the ditch and endeavoured to climb the walls. After the Spaniards had made several desperate attempts, they were driven back; and again getting under shelter, contented themselves with keeping up a hot fire at us. We, of course, replied in the same fashion; but, except that both parties expended a large amount of powder and shot, no great loss was suffered. In the attack a considerable number had been killed and wounded, and not a few of our own men had been hit.

We waited, fully expecting that with the return of daylight the enemy would make another assault. And we were not mistaken; but the result was the same as before, though I cannot say that, had they persevered, they would not have got in. Greatly to our relief, however, we heard the recall sounded. Once more they retired; and two of our men sallying out, traced them back to their former quarters.

We were for some time employed in repairing the damage done to the fort, and in attending to the wounded; and while we buried our own dead, we sent out a party to throw the Spaniards who had fallen in the river, as the easiest way of disposing of them. Several poor fellows who were found wounded were mercilessly bayoneted, in spite of all Juan, Mr Laffan, and I could urge to the contrary. Our men were generally sufficiently obedient; but when told to spare their enemies, who could no longer oppose them, they turned away with scowling countenances, not even deigning to reply—evidently resolved to carry out the fearful spirit of revenge which animated them.

Our men were again rejoicing at having repulsed our foes, when Juan summoned us to a council of war.

“Though we may rejoice at the victory we have gained,” he said, “yet it has been dearly bought by the death of so many of the garrison, and by the expenditure I find, of nearly all our ammunition. Should another attack be made, we have not a sufficient supply to repulse the enemy. Still I know that you and all my men will fight to the last, and that we may offer an effectual resistance with our spears and swords. We are ordered to hold this post, and I am resolved not to quit it alive, or we might possibly cut our way through the enemy. After the losses they have received, they may not attack us for some time; so I propose to send off any two of you who may be willing to go, to endeavour to reach the general and obtain reinforcements, as well as a further supply of ammunition and provisions; though, in regard to the latter, we can live on horse-flesh, if need be, until assistance reaches us.”

Juan looked at the other officers; but they made no reply. He then turned to Captain Laffan and me. “Are you willing to go?” he asked.

“With all my heart,” answered Captain Laffan; “and I am sure I may say the same for Duncan. We gained some experience of the country in our reconnaissance the other day, and I feel sure we shall get off without being discovered.”

“I am perfectly ready to go,” I added; “but I am very unwilling to leave you, Don Juan, in so critical a position.”

“Think not of me,” answered Juan. “I have a duty to perform, and I may well rejoice if I am called upon to die for the sake of my country.”

We accordingly settled that we were to set out about three hours before dawn, which would give us time to get beyond the enemy, and out of their sight, when we should have the advantage of daylight for seeing our way. I confess I felt more out of spirits than usual when I bade my friend Juan farewell. A presentiment of evil oppressed me, as I thought of the dangers by which he was beset.

It was shortly after two o’clock in the morning, when Mr Laffan and I, having our horses’ hoofs muffled, and followed, of course, by Lion, led them down to the river; crossing which, we took the road we had before followed for some distance. We then turned to the left, along the base of the hills. Between these and the hamlet occupied by the enemy, it was possible that patrols might be met with, and if so we had agreed to mount and cut our way through them. As we were on foot, we hoped that we should not be perceived until close upon the enemy; we should then have a good chance of escaping. We trudged on, therefore, holding our horses by the left rein, so that we might mount in a moment.

We had got a good way to the westward, and, as we fancied, clear of the enemy, when, on doubling a high rock, round which the path led, we came suddenly upon a picket. Owing to the precautions we had taken, however, they did not hear or see us until almost within a dozen paces. To leap on our horses and dig our spurs into their flanks, was the work of a moment; and before the Spanish soldiers could spring forward and seize our reins, we had already got to a considerable distance beyond them. They immediately opened fire, but, owing to the darkness and their surprise, took very bad aim. Possibly, not hearing any sound, they took us for phantom horsemen; but they continued to pepper away in the direction we had taken, long after the darkness had hidden us from their sight.

Not supposing that we should meet with another picket, we now dashed forward at full speed, the increasing light enabling us to see our way. Our horses, being perfectly fresh, went on for several leagues without flagging, and we now felt confident that there was but little chance of our being pursued. Not, however, being acquainted with the country, we knew that unless we could obtain a guide we should very likely lose our way, or take a much longer route than was necessary. With this object in view, therefore, seeing a small town on our right we rode towards it, to procure the assistance we required, and obtain refreshments for ourselves and steeds. Being uncertain who had possession of the place, I rode into the town, as I could pass there for an Englishman or a Spaniard, as the case might necessitate. I could thus obtain the information, while Mr Laffan remained on watch at some distance.

The place at first appeared deserted; but at length I saw three persons. One was lying in front of a door-step, another was apparently watching him,—both being badly wounded,—while a third, leaning against the wall, watched me as I approached.

“Friends,” I asked, “what has happened lately in this town?”

“The Godos have passed through it, and as we were Patriots they burned down a large part, and killed most of us. Look at yonder woman; she alone survives of all her family. You see almost all the remaining inhabitants,” and the speaker uttered a bitter laugh.

“I can feel for you, for I am a Patriot,” I answered; “and I want to find my way to the army of General Bolivar.”

“I would act as your guide, but I have no horse,” answered the man; “and I could not sit one if I had; look here, señor,”—and he showed me a severe wound on his side. “Nor can we help you,” he continued, “for there is no young man left in the place who would be able to go; but I can direct you on your road. And you will rejoice to hear, señor, that the last news which reached us is that the general has beaten the accursed Godos; though whether it is true I know not. Good news never travels so fast as ill news.”

I tried to cheer my new friend, and he undertook to obtain some refreshments for us.

“You may enter any of the houses you please, for most of them are empty; but to mine you are welcome.”

While he went to find some food and fodder for our horses, I rode back to where I had left Mr Laffan.

On our return we found plenty of fodder for our horses, but the fare with which we were supplied was very scanty, almost everything having been carried off by the plunderers.

“If, however, we would wait,” our host said, “he would find some fruit, and procure some fowls which had escaped.”

As we were anxious to proceed, we begged that he would point out the road we were to take. This he did, and we bade him farewell.

We had still some hours to ride before nightfall, when we must, if possible, find shelter. As far as we could judge, it might take us three or four days to reach the Patriot camp, and some time must elapse before relief could be sent to Juan,—and what might not occur in the meantime?

Whenever we pulled rein, Mr Laffan stood up and took a survey of the country.

“It is wise to ascertain what’s moving when traversing a country, or in our course through life,” he observed. “We may thus know where to find our friends and avoid our foes.”

Frequently, however, the view on either side was bounded by woods, the trees rising to a prodigious size. Many of them ran up to an amazing height in a straight line before they began to branch out. From some of the fig species, various shoots descended perpendicularly, where they took root, so that we had no little difficulty in making our way through these woody columns. Between the openings we caught sight of the mountains rising to the skies; and occasionally a stream crossed our path, or ran foaming along on one side or the other.

We had hoped to reach some friendly village or farmhouse, where we might rest during the hours of darkness, and obtain better food for our horses than they could pick up in the forest; but though we pushed on until an hour after sunset, no glimmering window-light appeared to beckon us towards it, and we had at last to look about for an open space where we might bivouac. We accordingly dismounted, and tethering our animals, commenced searching for wood to light a fire. We ran no small risk, as may be supposed, of rousing up a venomous serpent, or disturbing a boa during its rest, while at any moment a jaguar or puma might pounce down upon us, or a bear make its appearance. We succeeded in obtaining fuel enough to make a pretty large fire, and by its bright flames we the more easily obtained a further supply of wood. We had, however, but scanty materials for a meal,—some fruit, and a few pieces of Indian corn bread. I gave part of my share to poor Lion, who looked up wonderingly at finding himself put on short commons in a land of plenty. There was sufficient grass, however, for our horses to obtain a feed, and as we had watered them a short time before, they were not so badly off.

Having collected fuel enough to last for the night, we cut a number of sticks, which we ran into the ground to form a shelter against any sudden attack of wild animals during the night; and then, pretty well tired out, lay down to rest. Every now and then Captain Laffan or I got up to change the position of our horses, but we dared not leave them far from the fire, lest some jaguar might spring out and kill one of them, although it might not be able to carry off its prey. Great as was our anxiety, we by turns got some sleep; and at dawn, again mounting, we rode forward. The sky, however, was cloudy, and we had greater difficulty than before in guiding our course.

We rode on for some hours, until the pangs of hunger and the necessity of resting ourselves made us resolve to stop. I was fortunate enough to kill a good-sized monkey, which was grinning down at us from a bough close above our heads; and we also found as much wild fruit as we required. So, having reached the banks of a stream, where we and our horses could get water, and where there was abundance of grass, we halted, and quickly had a fire lighted, and part of our monkey roasting before it. The other part I had given to Lion, who was quite ready to eat it uncooked.

We again moved forward, but we both felt very doubtful whether we were going right. For my own part, I know but few sensations so disagreeable as the idea that one has lost one’s way. We were passing along a low sandy spot, with high bushes and trees on either side, when Captain Laffan’s horse gave a sudden start; and looking down, we saw a small shiny snake gliding away. The horse had evidently been bitten, for we could see the mark of the creature’s fangs above the fetlock, and soon the leg began to swell. The poor animal proceeded with the greatest difficulty. What remedies to apply we neither of us knew, but we had heard of the existence of a small snake called the aranas, the poison from whose fangs is so subtle that animals bitten often die within an hour; and even when remedies are applied, few are ever saved.

“The creature might have bitten either of ourselves,” I observed.

“I do not think this species ever attacks man,—though I should not like to put the matter to the test,” answered Captain Laffan.

There was no use in our stopping, especially as there might be other snakes of the same kind in the neighbourhood. We therefore, as long as the poor horse could move, pushed forward; but its pace became more and more sluggish, as the limb continued to swell. At length the animal stopped altogether, and my companion, feeling it tremble, leaped off. Scarcely had he done so when it came to the ground, and lay struggling in violent convulsions. Mr Laffan contrived to take off the saddle before it was damaged. In a few minutes, foaming at the mouth, the horse died, evidently in great pain.

“No use groaning over what cannot be helped,” observed the captain. “You take the saddle, and put it before you; I’ll carry the bridle; and I must try to get another horse as soon as possible.”

The delay was serious, but it could not be helped; so we moved along, Mr Laffan trudging by my side. I asked him to get up, but he positively refused to do so.

The belief that we had lost our road was still further depressing. I thought especially of the serious consequences which might ensue to Juan should we not soon obtain the assistance of which we were in search. At length my eye fell on a papaw-tree, and what appeared to be a hut just below it. Riding on, we saw a Creole peasant-woman walking along and spinning, evidently near her home. At first, on seeing us, she seemed disposed to fly; but on our calling to her and assuring her that we were friends, she stood still, waiting for us to come up. Our wants were soon explained: we should be glad, of a horse, a guide, and especially of some food. Food she could give us. Her husband was out, she said, but he would soon return, and he would procure a horse, of which there were several broken-in on the farm; and perhaps he himself would act as our guide.

Eager to push on, our patience was greatly tried; though we waited and waited, the woman’s husband did not appear. At last Mr Laffan proposed going out and catching one of the horses.

“But then you will not know in what direction to ride,” observed the woman. “You have no right, either, to take the horse without my husband’s leave.”

“Might makes right,” answered Mr Laffan; “however, we will not act the part of robbers, but will pay you handsomely for the horse.”

This promise satisfied the poor woman.

Fortunately, just as we were setting out the husband returned, and was evidently well-pleased at the thought of getting a good price for one of his animals. He also undertook to guide us, if we could wait until the next morning at daybreak, and would promise him a reward. He took good care, indeed, that we should not start before then, as it was nearly dark before he returned with the horse. It was a tolerably good animal, though rather small, and we willingly promised him the price he asked. He described to us feelingly the terror he had been in lest the Godos should visit his farm; though, excepting a few cattle and horses, there was little they could have obtained. His wife had been in still greater fear lest they might carry her husband off as a recruit; but he had kept in hiding, and she had conveyed food to him from day to day, until the Spaniards had left the neighbourhood.

We managed to rest with tolerable comfort on heaps of Indian corn leaves, and slept securely, without the fear of being attacked by jaguars, bears, or other wild beasts, or being bitten by serpents.

Faithful to his promise, our host appeared the next morning with the horse for Mr Laffan, while he brought a smaller animal for himself. His wife insisted on putting up a supply of food for the day, and was evidently unwilling to receive any reward. After a good breakfast we started, thankful to find ourselves on the right road.

Chapter Sixteen.

Our guide complains of our rapid pace—He leaves us—We meet Captain Lopez—Our doubts as to his object—In a deserted hut—We meet Uncle Richard and a body of infantry—We turn back with him—A rapid stream—Finding a bridge—The Spaniards advancing—A rush to gain the bridge—We reach it first—A fight—The Spaniards defeated—No prisoners taken—We approach the fort—Captain Laffan and I ride on to reconnoitre—Signs of disaster—Our men fire—A flock of galenachas rises from the fort, which appears in ruins—Dead bodies scattered about—Discovery of that of Juan—We raise a tomb over his grave—The army of Bolivar—Description of the General—Treachery of Colonel Lopez—Attempt to assassinate Bolivar—Numerous engagements—Praise from the General—My return home—An interview with Dona Dolores—She joins the army—War the greatest curse that can afflict a country—Conclusion.

We endeavoured to make up for lost time by galloping as fast as our horses would go, whenever the ground would admit of our doing so. Every moment might be of consequence. Should the Spaniards again attack the fort, we knew too well that our friends would have a hard matter to hold it. Our guide frequently exclaimed that we should knock up our steeds, or bring them to the ground.

“Never fear, my friend,” said Mr Laffan; “if we do, we must pick ourselves up again.”

“But your bones, señors, your bones; you will break them or your necks,” murmured our guide.

“Never mind—we must do the best we can; you don’t know what we Englishmen are made of,” said Mr Laffan.

“But I may break my neck, and then what will become of my poor Margarida?” cried our guide.

“We will do our best to console her, and find her another husband. On, on!” cried Mr Laffan.

In vain were all the expostulations of our guide. The dominie lashed his little steed, and up hill and down dale we kept on. Probably Tomaso would have left us to pursue our course alone and find our own way, had not my friend wisely kept back a portion of the price of the horse, lest such a trick might be played us. At last Tomaso pointed out what he called the highroad, and assured us that by keeping straight on we should in time reach the Patriot camp. How far off it was, however, he did not say. He now begged hard for the sum we owed him.

“Here it is, my friend; you have well earned it, I own,” said Mr Laffan, handing him the amount.

He was profuse in his expressions of gratitude. “A fortunate journey to you, caballeros; and may the Patriot cause prove triumphant,” he added, as, making a low bow, he turned his horse’s head and rode back the way we had come.

We had not got far when we saw a horseman galloping in hot haste towards us; by his dress and accoutrements we knew him to be an officer. As he got nearer I recognised him to be Captain Lopez. He pulled up, and began to address us before he recognised either of us.

“Can you tell me, caballeros, if a division of the Spanish forces is stationed anywhere in the neighbourhood? I am told that such is the case.”

“And what object, Captain Lopez, have you for wishing to know where to find the Spanish forces?” asked Captain Laffan, looking sternly at him. “Surely you are not going to desert to them!”

Captain Lopez now recognised us, and looked very much confused. He answered—

“No; desert to them, no! I am not a deserter, but I wish to ascertain their whereabouts, that the Patriots, who are advancing in this direction, may be prepared to encounter them.”

Captain Laffan looked incredulous, but simply asked—

“Whereabouts are we likely to find the Patriots, as we wish to join them without delay, and possibly can give them the information you are going to obtain?”

I remarked that he said nothing about Juan, or that our object was to bring him assistance. Captain Lopez, however, inquired where Juan’s troop had gone, observing that it was supposed he had joined Bolivar. Whether he really knew the true state of the case, I could not tell.

Captain Laffan was as reticent as at first. “Now, Captain Lopez, we must not delay; we possess all the information you wish to gain, and I would advise you to turn back with us, or you may chance to fall into the hands of the enemy.”

In answer to this remark Captain Lopez made several excuses, and at last said, “I’ll ride on for a short distance, and then follow you back. Farewell, señors, for a short time;” and he continued his course in the direction he was before going.

“The scoundrel!” exclaimed Captain Laffan as we galloped on; “I am very sure that he is on no good errand. We should have served the cause by shooting him.”

We had very little time to make remarks, as we had generally to ride one before the other, but our suspicions of the object Captain Lopez had in view made it more important than ever that we should reach the Patriots without delay, and hurry them on to the succour of Don Juan and his hard pressed garrison.

Another night arrived, and we were still unable to ascertain how far off the Patriots were encamped. Had our horses been able to move, we should, in spite of the dangers of the road, have pushed on in the dark. There was just light enough for us to discover a deserted hut. At the back was a garden overgrown with grass, into which we turned our horses. A well in one corner supplied them with water, and we were sure that they would not wish to stray; while the thick hedge and trees which surrounded the garden concealed them from the view of any one passing. We ourselves were not likely to be discovered unless by a person entering the hut. The food with which our good hostess Margarida had supplied us afforded a tolerable supper, with something over for breakfast. We could not doubt but that early the next day we should fall in with the Patriots.

Scarcely yet persuaded that Captain Lopez was acting treacherously, as Captain Laffan supposed, I half expected to see him return.

“If he does, it will be with a party of the enemy,” said my companion, “and we shall be made prisoners, unless we get due notice and can gallop off.”

This idea made us more wakeful than we should otherwise have been, for Lion doing duty as sentry was sufficient protection. The morning, however, came, and no enemy appeared. I shared my portion of the remaining stock of food with Lion, who had been for some time on short commons, as vegetable diet did not suit his constitution.

We had gone some distance when, as we were stopping to water our horses at a stream, my ear caught the tramp of feet.

“There is a large body of infantry coming along the road,” I exclaimed; “I trust that they may be friends, or we shall have to cut across the country to avoid them.”

Captain Laffan listened, and was satisfied that I was right.

“We must approach cautiously,” he said, “and be prepared to turn to the right-about if they should prove to be enemies.”

We instantly mounted and rode on, and before long came in sight of the troops.

“They are Patriots, I am sure, from their dress, and the flags they carry,” said Captain Laffan.

He was right. As we got nearer a mounted officer rode forward. To my infinite satisfaction I saw that he was Uncle Richard; while Antonio came close behind him, dressed as an officer.

“Hurrah! rejoiced to see you, Duncan; and you too, Captain Laffan,” exclaimed Uncle Richard as he recognised us. “Where do you come from? Tell me all about it as we ride along; you will accompany me, for we shall soon halt to let the men dine, and you can then get what food you require.”

We briefly told him the object of our journey.

“I knew that Don Juan was ordered to hold the fort, but I little supposed that he was so hard pressed. However, I hope we shall be in time to relieve him. You see these fine fellows?” and he pointed to the men. “I have been busy for some months, while you were away, raising and drilling them; and though I cannot say much for the uniformity of their appearance, I am pretty sure that, if well led—as I flatter myself they will be—they will do good service when we meet the enemy. I have had some difficulty in getting efficient officers, but I chose the best men I could find, independent of all other considerations. I have a Black, and two pure-blooded Indians, while the rest are Creoles. I found your former servant Antonio so intelligent and brave a fellow, that I gave him a company.”

“I am delighted to hear it,” I answered. “In a noble cause like ours there should be but one consideration,—to find the best men for every post; and if they have once been slaves, they are more likely to fight for freedom.”

Our great object now was to march forward and attack the Spaniards before they could capture the fort. That we should come up with the enemy in time, I could not help thinking, was very uncertain. Our men, however, were well able to advance as rapidly as any troops could move. Except their muskets and powder, they were unencumbered with any accoutrements, or indeed with any superfluous clothing. They required but little food, and that of the coarsest description. Accustomed to the use of firearms from their boyhood, they had quickly been turned into efficient soldiers. We had intelligent guides, also, who knew the country, and were able to point out the best paths for our advance.

A short time only was allowed for the men to take their dinner, after which we marched on again until nightfall. At first it seemed somewhat strange to find myself seated round our camp-fire with Antonio, and to hear him addressed as “Captain;” but I did not allude to our former relative positions. In a short time, however, as he bore his honours well, and behaved in a thoroughly officer-like way, this feeling wore off, and it seemed quite natural to speak to him as an equal. He was only one of many who at that period rose from the ranks. One of the bravest generals in the Patriot army had been a slave. Indeed, General Paez had been a herd-boy, and Arismendez a fisherman. Bolivar was one of the few Patriot leaders of high family, for the Spaniards had put to death the larger number of the men of influence and Liberal principles, before the struggle for liberty began.

The next morning we recommenced the march two hours before daylight, when the men appeared fresh and in good spirits. We had again advanced some distance after our noonday halt when we came to a rapid river, running between high cliffs, over which, we had learned from our guides, a strong wooden bridge had been thrown. Had it not been for this bridge the passage of the river would have cost us great delay, as we should have had to descend by narrow pathways to the bottom of the cliffs, then to throw a pontoon across, and ascend on the other side. In the face of an enemy this would have been impossible.

I had ridden forward, curious to examine the structure of the bridge of which our guides had spoken. I found that strong timbers had been fixed on the ledges in the cliffs projecting over the stream, serving to support a platform; from this platform others were pushed forward on either side, the inner ends lashed to the first platform, while a centre one joined the two. Railings ran along on either side of this ingenious structure, which had a roof supported on poles—the object apparently being to prevent the wood-work from rotting with the wet.

I had got a short distance along the bridge, when I caught sight of a body of men coming over the ridge of a hill scarcely a mile off. Another look convinced me that they were Spanish troops; while the advance-guard of our force was nearly as far off on the other side. I waited for a moment longer, to judge whether, by the movements of the Spaniards, the latter had been seen; but I judged that they were concealed by the trees and rocks which lay between thorn, while they on their part had not discovered the enemy. The possession of the bridge was of the greatest importance, and I knew that the Spaniards, so soon as they should discover the Patriots, would make a rush down the hill to gain it. Partly hid as I was by the roof and railings of the bridge, I hoped that I had not been seen. To avoid the risk of being discovered, therefore, I slipped off my horse, and turning its head led it back until I got under shelter of some trees; when, mounting, I galloped as hard as I could until I met Uncle Richard, who instantly gave the word to advance at the double.

The Spaniards, who were already descending the hill, rushed down with headlong speed on discovering us, hoping to gain the bridge before our party had secured it. We at once dashed across to hold it against the Spanish advance-guard, which had nearly reached it. As the enemy saw us crossing they opened a hot fire, but, the distance being considerable, their bullets did no damage, and we were soon across without a casualty. Directly afterwards the head of our column appeared, and impetuously charged along the bridge. They came not a bit too soon, for already we were engaged with those of the Spaniards who had advanced ahead of their companions, whose numbers were every moment increasing, and who pressed us fearfully hard. In the meantime the Spanish troops, as they descended the hill, opened fire on our men,—those who were waiting to cross replying to it from the other side.

As I looked up the hill I feared, from the numbers descending, that we should be shot down before a sufficient number of the Patriots could cross to hold their own until our main body had got over. Our men, however, pressed forward and formed rapidly. In another minute we had secured our ground, and driven back the enemy a dozen yards or more, affording sufficient space for the main body to form up as they crossed. Several had been shot, and had fallen over into the torrent, which was already dyed with blood.

The order was now given to charge. The Spaniards, in their eagerness to reach the bridge, had been thrown into disorder as they descended the hill. Our left wheeled, turned their flank, and drove them down towards the river; while our right stood its ground. The contest was short, but sharp. In the course of a few minutes, it seemed, the larger number of the Spaniards were hurled over the cliffs; while the rest, in utter confusion, attempted to retreat up the hill, but were followed by our nimble-footed men, and cut down or bayoneted.

No victory could have been more complete. Not a Spaniard who was taken was allowed to live. Of the whole force, numbering some five or six hundred men, those only escaped who contrived to hide themselves in ditches or behind bushes or rocks, or whose activity enabled them to keep ahead of their pursuers. Our chief casualties had occurred while our men were crossing the bridge, but, in all, we had lost comparatively few.

The summit of the hill gained, we halted to reform our troops, and then once more advanced. Whether or not the Spaniards we had defeated were those who had attacked the fort, we could not tell, as not a prisoner had been saved. In vain did Uncle Richard call to his followers to spare the lives of those who yielded; his orders were not listened to. The men only followed the custom of that savage warfare, and the example of the Spaniards, upon whom they thus fearfully retaliated.

Once more we advanced. Another day passed; and it was late on the next before we reached the neighbourhood of the fort. I looked out eagerly to ascertain whether the besiegers were still before it, but as yet not a sign could I discover of the enemy. The hamlet occupied by the Spaniards appeared to be deserted. I now felt convinced that the body we had defeated was part of the force which had been besieging the fort, while the remainder had probably marched in an opposite direction. We had seen nothing of Captain Lopez, however, and he certainly was not with those Spaniards whom we had encountered.

Now came the question, What was the fate of the garrison? Had they been able to hold out until the Spaniards, growing weary of the attempt, had given it up? or had the fort been successfully assaulted, and its defenders cut to pieces? If so, the Spaniards must now have possession, and it would be our turn to attack them, and to attempt its recapture. This would not be so difficult a task to us as it had proved to the Spaniards, as Captain Laffan and I knew every point about it, and every spot from whence it was assailable.

The first thing to be done, however, was to make a reconnaissance; and Captain Laffan and I rode on for this purpose. With our glasses we saw from a distance that no flag was flying; and as we got nearer we discovered that the flagstaff itself was broken short off, and that the tower was fearfully shattered, while parts of the stockades were thrown down, and the whole fort seemed in the most dilapidated condition.

“A bad omen, that,” observed my companion; “but, at the same time, it may have been shot through, and a puff of wind have blown it down.”

My heart began to sink, as, still further lessening our distance, we could see no one moving in the fort. It appeared to be deserted. As this, however, might not be the case—for the garrison might possibly be keeping concealed—we advanced cautiously, halting again just out of musket-shot. We waited for some time, but not a moving object could we discern. By this time we had been joined by several men on foot. Captain Laffan ordered them to creep forward and fire, thinking that the salute might elicit a reply should an enemy be holding the fort. As the report went echoing among the rocks, a whole flight of galenachas winged their flight to the summit of the neighbouring cliffs, whence they could watch an opportunity of again descending to finish their horrible banquet. We knew now, to a certainty, that no living beings occupied the fort. What had been the fate of our friends?

Eager to ascertain the worst, we rode forward, and, fording the stream, made our way over a mass of ruins which filled the ditch, into the interior. The scene which presented itself told a sad tale. There lay, round the tower, the bodies of friends and foes in equal numbers, with limbs torn, clothing burnt, and countenances blackened. With a sickening heart I searched for one form, if it could be distinguished from the other disfigured remains of humanity. It was not long before I recognised the uniform my brave friend had worn. He was lying directly under the wall, while one hand still grasped the jewelled sword I had seen Dona Dolores gird to his side. Yes, it was he, my gallant friend! I knew him by his features, though scorched and blackened and fearfully changed, and by a ring he had worn, as well as by the watch in his pocket.

Captain Laffan found me kneeling by the side of my dead friend, unable to restrain my grief.

“It is the fortune of war, Duncan. A more gallant fellow never breathed; and he died a noble death—in discharge of his duty,” said my late dominie. “Don’t give way, my boy; he did not die in vain.”

“But Dona Dolores!” I exclaimed; “her heart will break when she hears of it.”

“It’s of sterner stuff than that, I’ve a notion. But come, we must see at once about giving him a soldier’s grave while there is yet time, for we may soon have other work to do.”

Taking my dead friend’s sword, and his ring and watch, that I might give them to Dona Dolores, I rose from the ground.

In a short time Captain Antonio came up with the advance-guard. On counting the slain, we found that they numbered more than half the garrison. The rest might possibly have cut their way out; if not, they must have been taken prisoners, and, to a certainty, afterwards shot. A still greater number of Spaniards had been destroyed. All that we could suppose was, that Juan, when he found that successful resistance was impossible, had blown up the tower, and perished with such of the assailants as had made good their entrance.

A grave was dug for Juan beneath a wide-spreading tree, some little way up the valley. We there laid him to rest; and a volley having been fired over his remains, a heap of unhewn rocks was piled up above them to serve as the young Patriot’s tomb.

“When our cause is triumphant, and peace returns, I will erect a marble monument to his memory,” I said. And I kept my word.

Our men, in order to save themselves trouble, cast the remainder of the bodies into the river,—caring very little for thus horribly polluting the pure water. I had before thought war a terrible thing, but the scenes I had lately witnessed impressed me still more forcibly with a horror of its fearful results. What hundreds—what thousands, I might say—of human beings had perished miserably within the last few months! How many more, too, were doomed to die! Then I thought of the towns and villages committed to the flames; the corn-fields, the orchards, and gardens destroyed; and, more than all, of the widows and orphans who, while bewailing the loss of those they loved, their protectors and bread-winners, were doomed to struggle on in poverty; and the numberless families, formerly in affluence, now reduced to absolute beggary. Such was the state of my native land. And yet no one complained—all were ready to struggle on in the cause of Liberty; blaming, not those who had risen to fight for freedom, but the tyranny of their oppressors as the cause of all they endured.

While we were encamped at a neighbouring hamlet, which afforded sufficient means for defence, and enabled us to watch the fort, a despatch arrived for Juan, ordering him to evacuate it. Alas! had it come sooner, he and his companions might have preserved their lives, as I believe he would have succeeded, had he made the attempt, in cutting his way through the enemy; but, influenced by a stern sense of duty, he had held it after all hope of successfully defending it had gone. This added greatly to my grief at his loss.

General Bolivar had heard of the corps Uncle Richard had raised, and now sent forward requesting him to join his army without delay. By forced marches across the mountains, in which both officers and men suffered not a little, we reached the general’s camp, and I had the honour of being introduced to him. I little expected to see so young a man. In person he was small, but well-made and muscular, and able to go through astonishing exertion—frequently marching on foot over mountains and plains without exhibiting the slightest fatigue. His eyes were dark, large, and full of fire and penetration, denoting wonderful energy of mind and greatness of soul. His nose was aquiline and well-formed, his face rather long, and his complexion somewhat sallow. As Uncle Richard and I had the honour of being invited to his table, I had an opportunity of seeing him in his social moments. He was lively in his manner, full of anecdote and conversation; and it was said that, like Buonaparte, he possessed the power of reading at once a man’s character, and placing him in a position where his talents and abilities would prove useful to his country. He was also thoroughly disinterested, and so little regard did he pay to himself under the most severe privations, that he was always ready to share what he possessed with his companions-in-arms, to his last cigar or his last shirt. He was always cool, and invariably displayed the most undaunted courage. He was, to be sure, hasty in his temper, and often made use of intemperate expressions, abusing in no measured manner those who had annoyed him; but, at the same time, he was ever ready to make atonement to the person whose feelings might have been undeservedly wounded. In his bosom revenge was never harboured, and it was owing entirely to the atrocities committed by the Spaniards on the Patriots that he was induced to carry on against them that fearful war of extermination which so long raged throughout the country. Bolivar might not have been a hero to his own valet, but by those who truly understand heroic qualities he should be deservedly placed on a high niche in the temple of Fame. I may add that he was temperate in his diet, drank but a very moderate quantity of wine, never touched spirits, and that he seldom smoked. Generally he was the last to retire to rest, and the first to rise.

Soon after joining the army, to my surprise I met Lopez, now raised to the rank of colonel. He appeared to be intimate with many of the officers, but kept aloof from Captain Laffan and me, as well as from Uncle Richard, whom I should properly designate as Colonel Duffield.

We had marched forward until we heard that Murillo, with a large force, was in the neighbourhood.

One night Captain Laffan and I had been invited to dine with several English officers, and our host told us that he expected Colonel Lopez. However, when the dinner-hour arrived Colonel Lopez did not appear. A message was despatched to his quarters, but he was nowhere to be found.

“It’s my belief,” exclaimed Captain Laffan, “that the fellow has deserted! You will see that I am right; he was intending to do so when we met him.”

Dinner over, we again retired to our quarters, and all was stillness in the camp. As I wished to take a few turns to enjoy the cool night air, I accompanied one of Bolivar’s aides-de-camp who was about to visit the outposts, when we met a small body of troops marching towards headquarters. The officer in command gave the countersign, and they were allowed to proceed. Just then, who should we meet but Colonel Lopez, who informed my companion that he had some news of importance to communicate to General Bolivar respecting an intended movement of the enemy which he had just obtained from a deserter, and requested that he might be conducted to the general’s tent.

“If you will remain here, I will immediately acquaint the general with what you say, and beg that you may be admitted,” was the answer.

I returned with the aide-de-camp, but left him near Bolivar’s tent to deliver the message. I had not got many yards off, however, when I heard a volley of musketry fired close to me, and directly, as it seemed, at the tent. An instant afterwards I saw a party of men, who must have followed close upon us, disappearing in the darkness.

“To arms!—to arms! the enemy are upon us!” was the cry, and soon general confusion ensued. The troops got under arms, and some fired in the direction taken by the fugitives, but in the darkness it was impossible to see whether any were hit. The fear was that the general must have been killed, and every one was in dismay until he himself rode round, quieting the alarm of the men. He had fortunately quitted his tent a few minutes previously, and was not many yards off when the firing took place. On examining his cot, it was found that three or four bullets had passed right through it, so that he must have been killed, or severely wounded, had he not providentially left his tent.

Few in the camp slept that night. A treacherous attempt had evidently been made to assassinate our general. When morning came we looked out in the direction of the enemy’s camp. On the ground lay two bodies, and a party was sent out to bring them in. One of them was that of Colonel Lopez; and on his person was discovered a paper proposing a plan to Murillo for penetrating the camp with a party of Spaniards disguised as Patriots, and putting Bolivar to death. It was countersigned as approved of by the Spanish general. Such, then, was the fate of the rejected suitor of Dona Dolores.

I have not space to describe the several engagements which followed, but Colonel Duffield and Captain Laffan, who soon became a major, gained the credit they deserved for their gallantry on numerous occasions, and I had the satisfaction of being praised by Bolivar himself. However, the severe life we led at length affected both Major Laffan and me, and Colonel Duffield, in whose corps we served, insisted that we should return home to obtain the quiet and rest we required. The road was now open to Popayan, and we were able to travel with a small escort of invalids and wounded men, who, like ourselves, were unfit for service, and were anxious to return home.

With feelings of considerable anxiety we rode up to my father’s house, for what might not have happened during our absence we could not tell. Great, therefore, was my joy when we were greeted at the entrance by my mother, Dona Maria, Rosa, and jolly little Hugh, who all threw their arms about my neck at once, and then bestowed a similar affectionate greeting on the major—who declared, as tears streamed down his cheeks, that it gave him as much joy to see them all well, as it had to beat the Spaniards in the last battle we had fought; while Lion, who had followed at my heels, was next saluted in nearly the same fashion, while he barked, yelped, and leaped about, evidently delighted to get home. Dona Maria looked very pale, and was evidently anxious about Uncle Richard, but we were able to give a very favourable account of him. Like many other wives, she had learned to endure her anxiety.

My father was out, but he soon returned, and expressed his satisfaction at the high encomiums which had been bestowed upon me by Colonel Duffield, and even by Bolivar himself.

“I have just come from visiting Dona Dolores,” he said. “She has heard the report of Don Juan’s death, but will not believe it; and I am afraid that it must be your painful task, Duncan, to convince her.”

As soon as I could unpack the sword and the other articles which I had carefully preserved, I returned with my father to the house of the friend with whom she was staying. On hearing that I had come, she desired to see me alone. I felt more nervous than I had ever done in my life before, supposing that she would give way to her sorrow, and that it would be incumbent on me to endeavour to console her, impossible as that might be. What to say, indeed, I knew not.

I found her dressed in mourning for her father, and looking very pale. She was seated, but she rose when I entered, and advancing towards me, took my hand. Her eye fell on the sword, then on the ring on my finger.

“I know what you have to tell me, Duncan,” she said in a deep-toned voice, but without a falter; “he died as I would have had him,—fighting bravely for the freedom of his country—for the same cause to which I dedicated my life. Give me that weapon: I would present it to you, but I must use it myself; not to avenge his death, but to take his place and wield it against the foes of Freedom. That ring—give it me; he sends it as a farewell token.” She placed it on her finger. “Now, tell me the particulars.”

I endeavoured to describe the circumstances of Juan’s death, and how he had held the fort until all hope had gone.

She had remained standing during the time of our interview.

“Farewell, Duncan,” she said at last. “I must prepare for a sterner life than I have hitherto led. As yet it has been one suited to a delicate creature like Dona Paula Salabariata—a mere scribe, endeavouring to incite others to do the task I should undertake myself.”

I took my leave of Dona Dolores; and the next morning we heard that, attended by two servants, she had set out, habited in half-military costume, for the army. Some time passed before we heard of her again. She had joined a regiment, and taken part in every action. She seemed to bear a charmed life, too, for, although always in the thickest of the fight, the bullets passed her harmlessly by.

Years have rolled on since then, and the cause of Liberty has triumphed. When peace was obtained, I married my so-called cousin, the fair-haired Rosa; and my dear little sister became the wife of a gallant English officer who settled in the country.

I have described these scenes of warfare, not for the sake of encouraging a love of fighting, but for a very contrary object; and from the horrors I witnessed during that period, I am convinced that War is the greatest curse that can afflict a country, and I earnestly pray that the reign of Peace may soon commence on earth.

W.H.G. Kingston

"In the Eastern Seas"

Chapter One.

The Indiaman.

“Well, Thudicumb, I hope by noon we may at last get a glimpse of the sun,” said Captain Davenport to his first officer, as they walked the deck of the Bussorah Merchant, homeward bound from the East Indies, and at that time rolling on over the long heaving seas of the Atlantic. The sky was overcast, but ever and anon a gleam of light burst forth amid the clouds, playing on the foaming crest of a wave. It was blowing hard, but had evidently been blowing much harder, of which fact the condition of the Indiaman gave evidence. A portion of the starboard bulwarks were stove in, one of her quarter boats was shattered, and other slight damages were visible.

“We must be ready for him, sir, at all events,” said the first officer, looking at his watch. “It is not far off noon now.”

“Tell Oliver to bring me my sextant,” said the captain, as the mate descended from the poop into his cabin.

Mr Thudicumb soon returned, bringing his own instrument, and followed by a boy with the captain’s. Continuing their walk, they looked anxiously every now and then at the spot in the heavens where they expected the sun to appear. They were accompanied by one who seemed to take as much interest as they did in what was going forward. When they turned, he turned; when they looked up at the sky, he looked up also; balancing himself when the ship rolled as they did, by leaning over to the opposite direction to which she was heeling. He, however, could not have afforded them any assistance in their observation, for though his eye and the expression of his countenance exhibited much sagacity, he was of the canine species—a large dog—a magnificent-looking fellow, who could, the crew declared, for he was a great favourite with them, do everything but talk—and, they might have added, take a meridional observation, or a lunar.

Mr Thudicumb again looked at his watch. “There he is, sir,” he exclaimed at length.

He and the captain stopped in their walk; their sextants were quickly at their eyes; and there they stood, their feet planted firmly on the heaving deck, in an attitude long practice alone could have enabled them to maintain. A clear space was seen in the sky, increasing rapidly, and yet not altogether blue, but the vapour which drove across it was not sufficiently thick to prevent the sun’s rays descending upon the sea.

“She has dipped, sir,” said the first officer.

“She has,” observed the captain.

The sun’s elevation was read off on the index, and the instruments were returned to their cases. The calculation was very quickly worked out on a scrap of card.

“Make it noon, Mr Thudicumb,” said the captain, as, returning the case to the young cabin-boy, he directed him to take it below. While the captain and his first officer were making their observation, a group of midshipmen had collected on the deck with their quadrants in their hands, doing their best to shoot the sun, but their less experienced eyes could make but little of it in that heavy sea; and when they came to read off their observations, they were somewhat surprised at the wonderful difference which existed among them. Stopping to listen to a few remarks made to them by the captain, they hurried off the deck to deposit their quadrants in places of safety. The dog all the time stood with his feet firmly planted on the deck, watching the captain, as if he fully understood what was going on. Captain Davenport, as he turned, patted him on the head. “You are a wise dog, Merlin,” he observed; “but you cannot take an observation yet.” Merlin wagged his tail as if he had received a compliment, or, at all events, well pleased at the notice taken of him.

The captain was a tall man of spare figure, his white locks and weather-beaten countenance making him appear considerably older than his firm, yet light and active step, seemed to warrant. His eye, too, was still full of life and fire, and his voice clear and strong, evidence of which had been given when he issued his orders in the late gale, and when, by his promptitude and decision, he had saved the ship, seemingly on the point of destruction.

Scarcely had eight bells been struck, when the voice of the boatswain from the forecastle was heard shouting, “A vessel on the lee bow, sir! A dismasted ship! It can be nothing else!”

Captain Davenport went forward, followed by Merlin.

“Where away is she, Mr Tarbox?” he asked of the boatswain.

“There, sir, you will catch her over the bumkin-head,” answered the boatswain. “I saw her again just as you stepped on the forecastle. She cannot have gone down in the meantime!”

“I hope not indeed,” said the captain, looking out eagerly in the direction towards which the boatswain pointed. At last he too caught sight of a dark object lifted on the top of a sea. “A dismasted ship; no doubt about that,” he observed. “We will keep away for her. There are probably people on board, and although it would be a difficult matter to take them off while this sea is running, we may do so if it goes down, as it has been gradually doing since daylight.”

The Indiaman stood on, now rising to the summit of a sea, now gliding into the valley below, gradually approaching the dark object which had been discovered. The boatswain had gone aloft, and quickly returned.

“No doubt about it, Captain Davenport. She is a big ship—lost her masts, no doubt, in the gale; and from the way she is rolling, I have a notion she has no small amount of water in her. If we had not sighted her, it is my opinion that those on board would be fathoms down in the ocean, as she will be before another sun rises.”

“We will do what we can to save any people on board her,” said Captain Davenport. “Get the life-boat ready for lowering, Mr Tarbox.”

“Ay, ay, sir; I am ready to go in her,” answered the boatswain.

“Perhaps Mr Thudicumb may wish to go, or the second officer; but if not, Tarbox, I would intrust her to you more readily than to anybody.”

The news that a dismasted ship was in sight brought all the passengers who were below on deck, and numerous glasses were now turned towards her. No signs, however, of any one being on board were discovered. She was a complete wreck; the masts had gone by the board, the bulwarks were stove in, the caboose and booms and everything on deck had been swept clear away. The Indiaman stood on, passing close to leeward of her.

“She is deserted, sir; little doubt about that,” said Mr Thudicumb, examining the ship. “The people thought she was going down, and took to their boats. Better have stuck to her in such a sea as they must have had to encounter. Little chance of any boat living.”

“Haul the tacks aboard then, Mr Thudicumb; down with the helm,” said the captain. “Unless for the sake of rescuing any fellow-creatures, I would not risk a boat to board her, while the sea runs as high as it now does.”

As he was speaking, Merlin had been eagerly watching the wreck; and now, stretching out his fore-feet and neck towards her, he uttered a loud mournful howl or wail, which sounded strangely wild and sad to all who heard it.

“What is the matter, Merlin?” asked the captain, bending down and patting the dog’s head.

“That dog has got more sense than many human beings,” observed the boatswain. “Now, I should not be surprised but what he knows there is somebody on board that craft—dead or dying, may be—just as well as if he saw them. If I was our skipper, I would not leave that wreck without an overhauling.”

Just then a human head was seen issuing from the companion-hatch. It was that of a young boy. He sprang on deck and waved a handkerchief wildly, apparently shouting with all his power, though his voice could not be heard amidst the roaring of the sea and the lashing of the ropes as the ship was luffed up close to the wind. Captain Davenport seized his speaking-trumpet and shouted, “We will keep by you! Do not fear!” Just then another head was seen. “A young girl!” cried several of those looking on. A mere child she seemed at that distance, her light hair blowing about in the wind.

“Bless them!” said old Tarbox; “I would go to help them if there was twice the sea there is on.”

Preparations were now made for heaving the ship to, but the captain was anxious to wait, in the hopes of the sea going down still more before night, when there might be less risk in bringing the people from off the wreck. A great risk under similar circumstances is run when those on board a ship on fire or likely to sink leap hurriedly in too great numbers into the boat alongside. In many such instances the boat has been swamped, and the lives of all in her sacrificed. Here, such a danger was not likely to occur, as no crew apparently remained on board. The question, however, was, whether the wreck would float till the sea had sufficiently gone down to enable a boat to board her without risk. As the ship gradually receded from the wreck, the young boy was seen to lift up his hands imploringly, as if to beg for assistance. At length the boatswain came aft and addressed the captain.

“If you will let me have the life-boat, sir, there are six hands ready to go in her; and I will undertake to board that craft, and bring off any people we may find alive. To my mind, from the way she rolls, she has not got many hours longer to swim; and if she was to go down, those young people we saw would have to go down in her, and that’s what my eyes would not like to watch.”

“No indeed, Tarbox,” said the captain. “Mr Thudicumb, what do you say?”

“I was going to volunteer, sir,” said the first officer; “but though I yield to no other man on board in the management of a boat, I acknowledge that Tarbox can handle one in a sea better than any man I have ever met with; and on that account, and not because I am afraid of risking my life, I yield to him.”

“Thank you, Mr Thudicumb,” said the boatswain. “I should have said the same thing of you, sir; but you have a wife and children at home, and it matters little what becomes of old Dick Tarbox.”

Once more the ship was brought up as close as she could be to the wreck, and again being hove to, the life-boat, with the six hands selected by the boatswain, was carefully lowered. And now everybody on board watched her with anxious eyes, as she pulled towards the wreck. The young lad saw her coming, and was observed to be bending down as if to announce the event to some one below. Again the little girl’s head appeared above the deck, but the lad would not allow her to come up further, evidently being afraid of her being jerked overboard—an event but too likely to occur, from the way the ship was rolling. On pulled the boat, now sinking down deep into the trough of the sea, which curled into mountain billows, and seemed about to overwhelm her; now she rose up high on the crest of a wave. Many of those who gazed at her held their breath, scarcely believing that she could possibly live amid the tumult of waters. Slowly she proceeded, guided by the well-practised hand of the old boatswain. She was close to the wreck. Now she seemed to sink far down below the deck, now to rise up, as if the next instant she would be thrown upon it. Could any human being ever manage to gain the wreck from that tossing boat? Yes, yes! a man stands up in the boat. He makes a spring! He has gained the deck, hauling himself up by a rope which he has clutched. He waves off the boat till he is ready to return to her.

Dick Tarbox was the man. He was seen to leap down the hatchway. For some time he did not appear. What could have become of him? “There he is! there he is!” shouted several voices. He came, bearing a young girl in his arms. The boat again drew near the dismasted ship. Those who looked on held their breath, for how could he manage to convey his burden to the tossing boat? He stood for a minute or more waiting, but not irresolute. His eye was watching the boat. He was calculating the rolling of the ship. He made a signal to one of the men to be ready to receive the girl. Then, quick as lightning, he leaped across the deck, and dropped her—so it seemed—into the man’s arms. The boat again kept away from the ship, and the boatswain disappeared once more down the hatchway.

“He will bring the boy this time!” But no; he came up carrying a far heavier burden—a man wrapped in a cloak, and apparently unable to help himself. Dick shouted to one of the crew to go aboard and help him. Together they got the sick man into the boat. The little girl clasped her hands in her anxiety as she saw him lowered down. Sorrowfully she stooped over him, supporting his head in her arms; forgetting, apparently, where she was, and the fearful danger to which she was still exposed. The boy had followed the boatswain, apparently with the intention of leaping into the boat by himself. Dick was seen to hold him back: then he lifted him in his arms, and, waiting for the right moment, sprang into the boat.

No one on board had watched these proceedings with more apparent eagerness than Merlin; and as the boat came alongside the ship, he ran to the gangway to receive those whom she brought. The little girl was first lifted up the side, and received by the captain, Merlin instantly coming up to lick her hands and attract her attention. She had no thought, however, for any one round her, but endeavoured to look down into the boat to watch her companions. The sick man was next hoisted up; the boy, till he was safe, refusing to leave the boat. He then, aided by Dick Tarbox, hauled himself up on deck.

“We will carry him aft, and take him at once to my cabin,” said the captain. “He looks very ill.”

This was done; the young people keeping by the sick man’s side, anxiously gazing on his countenance, apparently scarcely aware where they were, and paying no attention to any one else.

“Is he your father, young gentleman?” asked the captain, as the sick man was placed on the bed.

“Oh yes, yes!” answered the boy. “But can you do nothing for him? He is, I am afraid, very, very ill.”

At that moment the surgeon, who had been attending on a patient below, came up, and entering the cabin, looked at the sick man’s countenance and felt his pulse. The look he gave the captain was observed by the little girl: she seemed to understand it.

“Oh do, sir, tell me what is the matter with him! Will he die?” she asked, bursting into tears.

“There is no time to be lost,” observed the surgeon, hurrying away to his own cabin without answering the question.

“Our lives are in God’s hands, young lady,” said the captain, in a kind tone. “The doctor will do all he can for your papa; be assured of that.”

The surgeon instantly returned with a restorative; after taking which the sick man recovered slightly, and was able to utter a few words in a faint voice. He recognised his children, and beckoned them to approach.

“I am leaving you, I fear,” he whispered; “for I feel as I have never felt before. Walter, take care of Emily; never leave her. Think of your dear mother and me sometimes.” Then he turned his glance towards the captain. “These, sir, will be orphans before many hours have passed,” he said, in a faltering voice. “You, perhaps, are a father, and can feel for me. As a fellow-creature, you can do so. You have been the means of preserving the lives of those children; watch over them, and do what you can for them. They will tell you about themselves. I cannot speak more.”

While he was uttering these words, he seemed about to relapse into a state of insensibility. His eye was growing dim. He stretched out his hands, however, and took those of his children; and thus, almost without uttering another word, his spirit passed away.

“We will leave your father now,” said the surgeon; and made a sign to the captain, who led the boy and girl out of the cabin.

The boy seemed to understand what had happened; but there was an anxious, scared, and inquiring expression on the countenance of the little girl, which showed that even now she was not certain that her father had been taken from her.

Captain Davenport was a father, and a kind, affectionate one, and knew how to sympathise with the bereaved children. He had been in the cabin but a few minutes when a midshipman entered.

“She is sinking, sir!” he exclaimed.

Captain Davenport hurried on deck. The boy had caught the words, and followed him. Just then Merlin uttered a low, mournful howl. They were just in time to see the after-part of the dismasted ship, as, plunging head first, she went down beneath the foaming billows.

“We were but just in time to save you, my lad,” said the captain, turning to the boy, whose hand Merlin was licking, as if to congratulate him on his escape.

“Indeed you were, sir,” answered the boy; “and we are very, very grateful to you, and to that brave sailor who carried my father and Emily out of the ship, and helped me into the boat. I want to thank him more particularly, and so would my father; but oh, sir, do you think he will soon recover out of that fearful swoon? Or do, do tell me, for I did not like to ask you before my sister, is he—is he really—dead?”

The boy’s voice dropped as he spoke.

“I fear, Walter, that he is dead,” answered the captain. “But we will do our best to comfort your little sister; and so, I am sure, will you. You have reason to be thankful that he was permitted thus to die quietly in bed, and to know that your lives were spared.”

“Oh yes, yes! I know,” answered the boy, hiding his face in his hands.

It was some hours before Emily could understand that her father could never again speak to her or caress her. Her brother’s anxiety to console her probably prevented him from so poignantly feeling his own loss.

The captain and all on board treated the young orphans with the greatest kindness and consideration. The following day their father’s body was committed to its ocean grave; and Walter and Emily felt that for the future they must be all in all to each other.

“Yes,” thought Walter, as he gazed at his sister’s fair and gentle countenance, “I will watch over her—and die for her, if needs be—to protect her from harm.”

Chapter Two.

The history of Walter and Emily.

The captain and those on board were naturally anxious to know something about the young orphans, and how it happened that they and their father had been left alone on board the sinking ship.

“The people would not take poor papa in the boat, and we would not leave him,” said Emily, when the captain first spoke on the subject.

“I should think not,” said Walter. “It was very, very sad to have poor papa so ill, and no one to help him except us. The poor captain and the first officer had been washed overboard; and the surgeon was killed by the falling of the masts, when papa was hurt at the same time. He was ill, though, when we sailed; but he thought the change, and the warm climate of the country we were going to, would restore him to health. We had good reason, however, to be thankful we did not go in the boats; for scarcely had they left the ship, as I was watching them from the companion-hatch, than I saw the sea break over one of them, and down she went, the unfortunate people in her struggling for a few instants before they all sank. I was in hopes that the other, which was larger, might escape; but she had got to no great distance when it seemed to me that she went right into a curling sea. Whether she went through it and rose again I could not discover, for I saw no more of her. It was very dreadful; but I had to hurry back to papa, for I heard Emily calling me. I did not tell him what had happened, for I thought it would make him even, more sad than he was.”

The boy, overcome with his feelings, could with difficulty speak, and was for some minutes silent. He then continued:—

“The ship was the Mountaineer. We had been three weeks at sea, and had had frequent calms, when we met with the fearful gale from which she suffered so much. Papa was going out as British Consul to —, in the Brazils; and as mamma died a year ago, and he had no one to leave us with, he determined, to our great joy, that we should accompany him. Emily had been at school; but when mamma was ill she came home to stay with her, and after that papa could not hear the thoughts of again parting with her. I had been at Winchester School, and had intended going into the army; but papa lost his fortune soon after mamma’s death, and told me that I must give up all thoughts of that, as he could not purchase my commission, and I could not be in the army without money. The loss of his property tried him very much. He had to take me away from school; and he used to say he was afraid we should all die of starvation. However, when he got the appointment he was in better spirits, and Emily and I hoped we should see him once more like himself.”

“But have you no relations or friends, young gentleman?” asked the captain, in a kind tone.

“I do not know about friends,” answered Walter; “but I have some relations. Unfortunately, however, my father was not on good terms with them. His elder brother—my uncle—had quarrelled with him. Why, I do not know. But when, before we were leaving England, papa desired to be reconciled to him, he refused; and I know, from what I have heard, that he would on no account have anything to say to Emily or me.”

“But had your mother no relations?” asked Captain Davenport.

“Not many. She had, I know, a brother, and I think I recollect him when I was a little boy; but he left England many years ago, and I know has not for a long time been heard of. Papa, besides his brother, had some cousins. One, I know, is Lord Heatherly; but I never saw him, and I think papa kept up no communication with him. We now and then saw his brother, Mr Tom Heathfield—for the family name is the same as ours. He is a very good-natured, merry person, and used always to try to make us laugh when he called. And our eldest uncle had some sons, but I never met them; indeed, I am sure their papa would never have let them come to the house.”

“From all accounts, then, the only relation you know anything about is your father’s cousin, Mr Tom Heathfield. Do you know where he lives?”

Walter thought a moment. “No,” he answered; “somewhere in London, I know, and I daresay I can find out.”

“Well, we must do our best to discover him when we get on shore,” said the captain.

It was evident to him that the young people had not realised their thoroughly destitute condition. Whatever property their poor father might have had must have been lost in the Mountaineer. “However,” he thought to himself, “if the brother’s heart cannot be moved to take care of the orphans, perhaps this Mr Tom Heathfield or Lord Heatherly will do so. In the meantime, I must look after them.”

The Bussorah Merchant reached the Thames in safety, and went into the docks to discharge her cargo.

“You must come with me, my young friends, till we can find out your cousin,” said the kind captain. “My good wife, Mrs Davenport, will be very glad to see you, as will our little girl Grace. You must be content with such fare as we can offer, and you may be sure of a hearty welcome.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Walter. “Emily and I, I am sure, shall be very happy with you. Do you live in the West End of London?”

“No,” answered the captain, smiling; “I live at Poplar. It is a different sort of locality; but I have had a good many losses, and am not so well off as some masters of ships. But my life has been preserved when others have lost theirs, and I retain my health and strength. I have a good wife and an affectionate little girl, and I have therefore reason to be thankful; and so I am.”

Captain Davenport, as soon as he was at liberty, accompanied by his young charges, set off for his home. It differed, however, greatly from the sort of house Walter and Emily had been accustomed to live in. But it was very neat; with green palings in front, and neatly-painted shutters, and the whitest of stone steps leading up to the hall door. The captain had had no time to tell his wife of the guests she might expect. After, therefore, the first greetings between them were over, and he had embraced his little daughter Grace, Mrs Davenport naturally inquired who the young strangers were. No sooner had she heard their history than she gave an affectionate embrace to Emily.

“Yes, indeed, you are welcome here,” she said; “and if you are content with this house, we shall be glad to have you remain in it. And I am sure Grace will do her best to make you at home, young lady,” she said, placing the girls’ hands in each other’s.

The captain, of course, had a great deal to do on his first arrival after a long absence, and could not, therefore, go in search of Mr Tom Heathfield, Walter’s cousin. Walter acknowledged that he was not likely to find him himself, as he had but seldom been in London, and did not know his way about. All he could tell was, that he lived somewhere in the West End, and he thought he belonged to two or three clubs.

“Very likely, young gentleman,” said the captain, laughing. “However, when I can get hold of one of those books they call Court Guides, I may be able to find him.”

A week passed pleasantly enough away. Grace was very kind to Emily, and Walter was never tired of walking about the docks, and watching the large ships loading and unloading the bales and casks of goods coming and going to all parts of the world. It gave him some idea of the vast amount of commerce of London, when such a stream of merchandise was coming in and going out all day long.

At length the captain told him that he had some hours to spare, and they set off together to try and find Mr Heathfield. They got down at Charing Cross, where a bookseller allowed them to look over a Court Guide.

“Yes, that must be my cousin,” said Walter, seeing the name. “I now remember going there with my father. Yes, and those are the clubs he belongs to.”

Having put down the address, the captain and Walter at once set off to find it. They were not long in getting there. A woman opened the door.

“Mr Heathfield is not in town; he seldom is at this time,” was the answer. “He may come up for a day, or he may not; but letters addressed here will find him.”

“But can you tell me where he is?” asked Walter. “I am a relation of his.”

“As to that, he may be at Newmarket, or some other races. You know he is a sporting gentleman, and is likely to be in one place one day and in another place another. But he sends for his letters, and, as I have told you, if you like to write, one will find him.”

This was not very satisfactory information.

“I am afraid he is not likely to do much for the poor children,” thought Captain Davenport. “However, there is nothing like trying.”

He then bethought him that he would inquire the address of their uncle, whose heart might relent when he heard of the death of his brother. “If not, I will write to Lord Heatherly himself,” said the captain.

The nobleman’s address was easily found, and after some trouble the captain ascertained that of Walter’s uncle, and with this information he returned home.

“You must have patience, my boy,” he said. “If you are not tired of staying with us, we are not tired of you.”

On reaching home, the captain wrote the three letters. Several days passed by, and no answer came. At length two appeared by the same post. One was from the orphans’ uncle, stating that he had children of his own, and that he had long ceased to have any communication with his brother. He must therefore decline interfering in the matter. The other contained the words:—“Lord Heatherly presents his compliments to Mr Davenport, and not having been personally acquainted with the late Mr Heathfield for many years, must decline in any way interfering with regard to any children he may have left.”

“Oh dear me!” said Mrs Davenport, when she saw the letters. “If the poor young orphans are treated in this way by their nearest relative and by the head of their family, I am afraid we can expect very little from the only other relation we have heard of.”

“Well, my dear wife,” said the captain, “if nobody else looks after them, God intends that we shall. We must not decline the charge he has given us, but do the best we can for them.”

The following day a private cab was seen passing along the street with a sporting-looking tiger behind. The gentleman driving stopped once or twice, then turning round, brought up at Captain Davenport’s door. Down jumped the tiger, and out sprang the gentleman. Walter and Emily were in the parlour.

“Why, that is cousin Tom!” exclaimed Walter, and he ran out to open the front door.

Cousin Tom came in, and shook hands with Walter and Emily, and was soon talking away to Mrs Davenport as if he had known her all his life.

“I am very much obliged to you and to your worthy husband for all you have done for these young people,” he said. “And my poor cousin Harry, I little thought he was so soon to be cut off. However, we must not talk about those sort of things. Why, Walter, you are almost a man now. We must see what we can do for you. Your uncle Bob will not help you; I have heard all about that. We will not talk about him; and as for Heatherly, there is no help to be got from him. I am going out of town to-night, or I would have had you, Walter, come and dine with me and talk matters over. However, if your friends will look after you for a day or two longer, I hope we may settle something. I have an idea that my aunt, Lady Di Pierpoint, will take charge of Emily. I must insist upon her doing so. She mixes a good deal in the world, rouges, and is rather addicted to scandal, it is true; but I say, Emily, you must not follow her example, and you will get on very well with her. Look after her lapdogs, feed her parrots, write her notes for her, and all that sort of thing. Well, I think we may consider that settled.—And now, my good madam, I must wish you and the young people good-bye. I hope to be back in a few days with Lady Di’s answer. And as to Walter, I have no doubt about him. In the meantime, I will just beg you to take these two notes, which you will have the kindness to expend as you think best in getting a proper outfit for the young people—as I have no doubt they lost everything when the ship went down; and I should wish, if you will allow me, to repay you for the expense to which you have been put.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Mrs Davenport. “We desire no repayment; but I will gladly expend the money to the advantage of my young friends as you desire.”

“Well, well, do as you like!” exclaimed Mr Tom. “I am very much obliged to you in every way. And now, good-bye, Emily; good-bye, Walter; and I wish you farewell, madam. Present my compliments to your kind husband. I should have liked to have made his acquaintance. I hope to do so another time. I am deeply indebted to him, for I had a great regard for poor Harry. Though he might not have been very wise—none of us are; and his wife, she was an angel. Good-bye, good-bye!”

Thus rattling on, Mr Tom Heathfield ran out at the door, and jumped into his cab; the tiger skipped up behind, and off he drove.

Day after day passed by, and no news came of Mr Tom Heathfield. The packet he had left behind contained a couple of ten-pound notes, with a few words written on the paper surrounding them:—“It is all I have got; but if Constellation wins, I will send another hundred.”

Captain Davenport was now again busily engaged in preparing his ship for another voyage. She required but few repairs, so she was likely to be soon ready. He had resolved to take his wife and daughter with him; and Grace was very full of the thoughts of accompanying her father. Mrs Davenport had made two or three voyages; but Grace had not been at sea since she was a very little girl.

“I wish I was going too,” said Emily; “how delightful it would be!”

“I am sure I wish that I was going!” exclaimed Walter. “I have often thought I should like to be a sailor; and though I once should only have wished to go into the royal navy, I should now like to go anywhere with Captain Davenport.”

Week after week passed by. The Bussorah Merchant was ready for sea. A cabin had been fitted up for Mrs Davenport, and another for Grace. No news came from Mr Tom Heathfield. Captain Davenport wrote: he considered it his duty to do so. The day before he sailed, his letter came back in an enclosure, stating that Mr Tom Heathfield had broken his neck riding a steeple-chase, and that though he had wished to leave his property to his young cousin, as all would be swallowed up in paying his debts, there would be none forthcoming. Walter and Emily felt very sorry when they heard the sad end of their poor cousin, though Emily confessed to Grace she was very glad that she had not to go and live with Lady Di Pierpoint.

“Well, my young friends,” said Captain Davenport, “I have no one with whom I can leave you, and I certainly will not desert you. If, therefore, Emily would like to come and be Grace’s companion, we shall be very glad of her company; and, Walter, if you wish to come to sea and learn to be a sailor, I will undertake to instruct you as if you were my own son.”

Walter was truly glad to accept the kind captain’s offer; indeed, it would be difficult to say what else he could do.

“When we return to England,” said Captain Davenport, “we will make more inquiries about your relations, and if they still persist in refusing to acknowledge you, you will, at all events, have learned a profession, and be independent of them. After all, you will be far better off than had you been brought up in idleness, and dependent on those who might care very little for your true interests and welfare.”

Chapter Three.

Walter Heathfield’s Journal.

The Bussorah Merchant was now ready for sea. Mr Thudicumb was first mate, as he had been on the previous voyage; Dick Tarbox was boatswain; young Oliver Farwell was cabin-boy. Merlin, too, who indeed never left the ship, was on board, and welcomed my sister and me, whom he recognised the moment we appeared with signs of the greatest satisfaction. The ship was bound out to the coast of China and Japan, with a prospect of visiting several other interesting places before she returned home. I was delighted with the thoughts of all I should see, and was very glad to find on board several books descriptive of those regions. The ship came to an anchor at Gravesend, where several passengers joined her. Among them was a gentleman with very broad shoulders, a broad forehead, and light curling hair covered by a very broad-brimmed white hat. His eyes were blue and remarkably keen; he had a nose somewhat turned up; and a firm mouth, with a pleasing smile, showing a set of strong white teeth. He brought with him a number of cases and boxes; among them gun-cases, and fishing-rods, and cases which looked as if they enclosed instruments, with numerous other articles not usually carried by travellers. His business-like, quiet manner showed that he was well accustomed to move about the world. Who he could be I could not tell. Soon after he came on board he called Oliver Farwell to help him arrange his cabin; but as Oliver had other duties to attend to, I offered my services.

“Yes, my lad, I shall be very much obliged to you,” said the gentleman. “I should have liked to have got these things on board before the ship left the docks; but there was no time for that; and it is important that they should be secured before we get into a tumbling sea, from which they may receive damage.”

I observed that Mr Nicholas Hooker was painted on all the cases, and of course concluded that such was the name of the gentleman. He had a number of screws with which he fastened some of the articles to the bulkheads, and lashed others in a seamanlike fashion. There were charts and telescopes; indeed, from the various articles he had with him, I fancied that perhaps the gentleman was a naval officer. Still, as I did not see R.N. at the end of his name, I thought again that he could not be so.

At length Mr Hooker, having unpacked his books, various instruments, and other articles, begged that the cases might be stowed away below. His directions were promptly obeyed, and having surveyed his cabin, he seemed satisfied that all was in perfect order.

“Now, young gentleman,” he said, with a pleasant smile which won my confidence, “I daresay you would like to know what all these things are for. Some are for taking the latitude and longitude, ascertaining the exact position of places on the earth’s surface. Others are for measuring the height of mountains, some the temperature of the air and water, and so on. Then I have cases for creatures which move in the water or fly in the air, which walk or crawl on the earth or burrow beneath it; and I have the means of shooting them or trapping them. Those I can, I hope to preserve alive; and if not, to be able to exhibit to my scientific friends, when I return home, the forms of some perfect, the skins of others, and the skeletons of others. And now, having told you thus much, I must leave you to guess what I profess myself to be. One thing I can tell you, I know very, very little compared to what there is to be known. I hope to gain more knowledge but I am very well aware that, gain all I can, I can but add a very small portion to what is already known, and a still smaller compared to what is to be ascertained. Here comes the captain. We are old friends, and that induced me to select this ship for my voyage. Are you his son?”

“No, sir,” I answered; “but he is a very kind friend of mine; and were it not for him, I know not what would have become of me and my sister.”

The Bussorah Merchant had a fine passage down Channel, and taking her departure from the Land’s End, stood across the Bay of Biscay. Four days afterwards the captain told us that we were in the latitude of Cape Finisterre, but no land was to be seen. Another eight days, with the wind abeam, carried us into the neighbourhood of the island of Madeira.

“Would not it be as well to have a look at it, sir,” I said, “and then we shall better know where we are.”

The captain smiled. “That is not at all necessary,” he answered. “By the observations we are able to take with the perfect instruments we possess, we are able at all times to ascertain our exact position on the ocean; and we might thus sail round either Cape Horn or the Cape of Good Hope to New South Wales without once sighting land till we were about to enter Port Jackson.”

“It is very wonderful,” I said. “What puzzles me is how you can find the longitude. I know you get the latitude by seeing how high the sun is above the horizon at noon, and then with the aid of the nautical almanac you can easily work out the calculation.”

“With the aid of the chronometer we can as easily ascertain the longitude, though the calculation is a little longer,” answered Captain Davenport. “I can explain it to you more easily. The chronometer shows us the exact time at Greenwich. We know by our nautical almanac that, at a certain hour on a certain day, the sun will have attained at Greenwich a certain altitude. When on that day and that hour we find that the sun is so many minutes behind hand in attaining that altitude, we know we must be a certain distance further to the west, as, the world turning from west to east, the more westerly a place is the longer it will be before the sun appears there. If, on the contrary, we find the sun has gained a fixed altitude some time before it would have gained that altitude at Greenwich, we know that we must be to the east of Greenwich, or have met the sun sooner than the people at Greenwich have done. Thus, the further we sail east day after day, the sooner we see the sun; while the further we sail west, the longer the time which passes before he shines upon us.”

“I think I have an idea about it now, sir,” I exclaimed; “and I should be very much obliged if you will show me how to take an observation and to make use of the books, as well as to work out the calculations. Why, may I ask, do you cry Stop, sir, to the second officer or to Mr Thudicumb, who are watching the chronometer while you are taking an observation?”

“That they may mark the exact moment shown on the chronometer, while I mark the sun’s elevation as shown on the index of the sextant.”

“But then you take observations at night sometimes, sir, looking at the moon or the stars?”

“We do that to discover the distance which one star appears from another at a certain hour, or their elevation above the horizon. The object is the same as that for which we take an observation of the sun, though the calculation is rather more intricate.”

After this I set to work, and whenever the captain and his mates took an observation, I took one also, although I was, I must own, at first very far from correct. Sometimes my observation was imperfect; at other times I made mistakes in the calculation.

At length the ship, which had been favoured with a breeze more or less strong ever since she left England, was becalmed. Sometimes she got a little wind which lasted for an hour or two, and then died away; then light airs came, first from one quarter, then from another, and the crew were constantly employed in bracing up, or squaring away the yards.

“It is always like this in these Horse Latitudes,” said the boatswain as he walked the forecastle, where I had gone to have a talk with him.

“Why do you call them ‘Horse Latitudes?’” I asked, as I listened to his remarks.

“Why, I have heard say that they were so called by the Yankees, or the people of New England, before they were separated from Old England. They used to send out deckloads of horses to the West Indies, and they were very often kept becalmed so long in these latitudes that their water grew scarce, and to save the lives of some of the horses they were obliged to throw the others overboard; so that is how this part of the ocean came to be called the ‘Horse Latitudes.’”

I afterwards told Mr Hooker what Tarbox had said.

“A more scientific name would be the Tropic of Cancer,” he answered. “We had a good breeze before we entered it, but often the wind to the north of where we now are is very variable. After we have passed this belt of calm and light airs we shall get into the regions of the north-east trades, which will carry us along at a fine rate till we get into the very worst part of the ocean for trying a person’s temper, called the Doldrums. Remember to ask me more about it when we get there. You will remember, then, the Variables are to the north of the Tropic of Cancer. The ‘Horse Latitudes’ are on either side of the Tropic. Then we get into the north-east trade-winds, which carry us up to the Doldrums about the Equator; and passing through them with more or less trial of temper, we get into the south-east trade-winds, which we shall have to cross with our tacks aboard. Then we shall probably find calms about the Tropic of Capricorn; after which, without once sighting land, we may very likely find a breeze, more or less favourable, but seldom against us, which will carry us through the Straits of Sunda, between Java and Sumatra, to the west of the great island of Borneo, right away to the north, through the China sea, leaving the Philippine Islands on our right hand, up to Japan. I will have a talk with you another day about those East India Islands, for they are very curious, and are probably less generally known than most parts of the world.”

The events occurred very much as Mr Hooker had predicted. For nearly a whole week our ship lay with her head sometimes one way, sometimes another, the sails flapping against the masts. Then she got a breeze which carried her a few miles further to the south, and people’s spirits began to rise, soon again to fall when once more the sails would give a loud flap, and hang down without a particle of wind in them. At length, however, they once more bulged out. The yards were squared away. The captain walked the deck with a more elastic step than for the last week had been the case, and on the ship went hour after hour, the breeze rather increasing than lessening.

“We are in the north-east trades,” observed Mr Hooker. “Little fear now, for another two weeks or so we shall have a fine run of it.”

Three day after this, a seaman from aloft shouted out, “Land ahead!”

“Ay, ay,” answered Mr Thudicumb, who had charge of the deck. “It is land that will not hurt us, though;” and he continued to let the ship run on in the course she had been steering.

Curious to know what had attracted the man’s attention, I went aloft, and there I saw spread out on the surface of the calm ocean, what looked like a dark field, but little raised, however, above the water. On returning on deck, I told the first officer that I really thought there must be land ahead.

“No, Walter, no fear of that,” answered Mr Thudicumb; “we are crossing the Sargasso Sea. You will observe that it is merely sea-weed and drift-wood collected in this spot from all parts of the ocean. The currents and winds bring it, but why this place is selected I do not exactly know. In a calm it might bother us, but we shall only pass through a small portion of it, and there is wind enough to send us along in spite of the obstruction it may offer. We must get a bucket ready, for Mr Hooker will be anxious to have some of it up on deck, that he may examine the creatures who live upon it. In the Pacific there is a collection of the same sort, and people who could not otherwise for want of fuel inhabit some of the islands in that region, are enabled to do so in consequence of the supply of drift-wood it brings them.”

The ship, soon clear of the Sargasso Sea, glided on proudly, with all sail set below and aloft. The weather was delightful; the passengers constantly on deck. Emily and Grace were very happy together, for everything was new and interesting. They had plenty of employment; for Mrs Davenport, knowing what a sea voyage is, had brought work of all sorts. And then they had books; and they were not above running about the deck, and playing at ball occasionally, and Les Graces, and other games suitable for ship-board.

Thus day after day passed pleasantly by: the sea sparkling, the sky bright, or occasionally mottled with light clouds. One morning, however, when they came on deck expecting to see the blue sky above their heads, they saw only a thick canopy of clouds. The sails were flapping against the masts; the air was oppressive. There the ship lay, her head moving now in one direction, now in another. Those who had before been full of life and spirits began to complain of lassitude and weariness. The seamen no longer moved actively about the decks, but went sauntering along when called upon to perform any duty. The heat grew greater and greater. The iron about the ship was unpleasant to touch. The pitch bubbled in the seams of the deck and stuck to the feet. Emily and Grace no longer wished to play at ball, or Les Graces, or any other game. Even Merlin went disconsolately up and down the decks, as if he thought something serious was going to happen. I felt as I had seldom felt before.

“Are we going to have a storm, sir?” I asked of the captain. “I have read that storms are apt to come on after weather such as we now have.”

“I do not expect one,” answered Captain Davenport, “though we may possibly have a squall of a few hours’ duration; and I should not be sorry for it, if it would carry us out of this region. We are now in the Doldrums.”

“Not a bad name, considering the condition of all us poor mortals on board,” observed Mr Hooker.

“We are now under the cloud ring which encircles this part of the earth. God has placed these clouds above our heads in this region for a particular purpose. You will observe that the thermometer and barometer stand lower under this cloud ring than they do on either side of it. The clouds not only promote the precipitation which takes place in this region, but they also cause the rains to fall on places where they are most required, shading the surface from which the heating rays of the sun are to be excluded, and thus giving tone to the atmospherical circulation of the world and vigour to its vegetation. You have often, when the sun is sending his rays with great heat down on the earth, seen the atmosphere dancing, as it were, and trembling. This appearance is caused by the ascending and descending columns of air. The cloud ring creates on a greater scale this circulation of the atmosphere; indeed, the more we examine the phenomena of Nature, the more we shall discover the hand of a directing Providence, in suiting all things for the convenience and use of the beings placed by Him on the earth.”

Day after day the ship remained in this calm region with a cloudy sky. People began to feel ill; and some fancied that as they were going further south the heat would increase, and could scarcely understand that as they proceeded the atmosphere would again become cold. Captain Davenport and the officers were on the watch to make use of every breath of air which would forward the ship on her course; and at length she once more got the breeze, and those who had before been complaining of lassitude and illness suddenly revived and came on deck to enjoy the renovating and refreshing breeze. The sky was clear; the sea bright and sparkling as before. Cheerful countenances were everywhere visible, instead of the weary, downcast looks which most of those on board had worn for the previous ten days. The only person who never seemed depressed was Mr Hooker. When not taking exercise on deck, he always had a volume in his hand, from which he was constantly making notes into his pocket-book.

“You see, my young friend,” he said to me one day, “I am anxious to ascertain what others have known, because all that man can aim at is to increase the stock of knowledge possessed by his fellow-men.”

The varied changes of the ocean, and the creatures which appeared beneath its surface, and occasionally above it, afforded us an unfailing source of interest. On a bright morning I was engaged with some work by the side of the boatswain when I heard Grace cry out—

“Oh, look—look what funny birds!”

“Why, miss, those are not birds, unless they may be called water birds; those are flying-fish,” said Mr Tarbox, who had come with me to the ship’s side.

Others, with Mr Hooker, came also, looking on at the curious sight. Numbers of fish with wings, or more properly fins, as long as their bodies, were rising out of the water and darting along for a considerable distance above the surface, again, however, to fall helplessly into their native element. Directly after them, in pursuit, appeared several large fish—now one of the latter leaped half out of the water, now another, seldom failing to catch one of the beautiful creatures in its huge jaws.

“The dolphins are getting a fine banquet,” I heard Mr Hooker remark. “The poor dactylopteri are the sufferers; but they do not fall a prey to their persecutors without a brave attempt to escape. See, no sooner have they wetted their wings than they are out of the water again, and will lead them a long chase, till the dolphins are wearied out.”

We watched the pursuers and pursued till they were lost to sight in the distance.

The ship once clear of the Doldrums, met the steady trade-wind blowing from the south-east. With her tacks aboard, she stood away towards the South American coast. When I went on deck at night, I observed a change in the appearance of the constellations; and now the beautiful one of the Southern Cross became every day clearer, rising as it were in the sky. The magellhenic clouds also came in sight, showing that the ship was now in the southern hemisphere. Frequently patches of light were passed in the water; caused, Mr Hooker told me, by the pyrosoma. They exhibited a beautiful pale silvery light; but when they were taken out of the water the light disappeared, till any particular part of the creature was touched, when the light again burst forth at that point, pervading the whole animal mass.

The Bussorah Merchant did not, however, as many ships do, touch at Rio de Janeiro; but passing through another belt of calms at the Tropic of Capricorn, kept away eastward towards the Cape of Good Hope. One evening, while I was keeping watch under the first officer—for I was considered fit to take regular duty on board—the ship running at the rate of four or five knots an hour through the water, I heard a sound as if substances were falling upon the deck. As I went to windward, a large dark object, wet and cold, struck me on the shoulder, and then fell down. I instantly sung out; when the boatswain, who was on deck, brought a lantern; and there, to the surprise of all of us, a dozen or more cuttle fish were found, which had sprung over the weather bulwark.

“Well,” exclaimed Mr Tarbox, “I never did see such a thing as this before.”

Mr Hooker, however, said that he had heard of it, as the creatures can spring an immense distance. “I have known some,” he said, “to spring right over a ship; though, certainly, to look at them, it is difficult to ascertain their means of rising out of the water.”

The island of Tristan da Cunha was sighted, looming in the evening light like some huge monster rising out of the ocean. Looking over the sides the water appeared unusually clear; and I could see, far down, the fish swimming about by the side of the ship. Even Mr Hooker, however, did not succeed in catching any. The stormy petrel now made its appearance; and I and Emily and Grace were delighted soon afterwards to see a magnificent white bird with outstretched wings following the ship. “An albatross! an albatross!” I shouted, for I guessed at once what it was. Mr Hooker said he wished to catch two or three and prepare them to send back to England by the Bussorah Merchant. He accordingly made preparations to catch them.

“I should not like to shoot one though,” I remarked. “You remember what became of the ‘Ancient Mariner’ who shot an albatross; how his ship floated all alone on the ocean day after day, and week after week, and month after month, till all on board had died and he alone remained.”

“Oh no; pray don’t!” exclaimed Emily, “lest so dreadful a fate should overtake us.”

“It is only a fancy of the poet’s, perhaps,” I remarked. “At the same time I like to try and believe it.”

“I hope the same fate does not overtake those who catch the bird with a bait. It is his own fault, recollect, if he swallows it,” said Mr Hooker, who had now got a strong line with a hook and a piece of meat on it, with a float to keep it from sinking. This he now veered astern. I could not help admiring the wondrous power exhibited by the bird as it glided on without flapping its wings. Now one was seen to dash down at a piece of refuse which the cook had thrown overboard, slowly again to rise and then to follow the ship, apparently without the slightest exertion.

“That gives me an idea,” said Mr Hooker, throwing a large piece of fat overboard before he let go his baited hook. Again the albatross darted down on it; and then, without rising again, swam vigorously after the baited hook.

“There—he has snapped it up!” I exclaimed.

Instantly the bird found the obstruction. When the sailors who had come aft began to attempt to haul him in, out went his wings, with which he endeavoured to hold himself back, offering a powerful resistance to the line. Although three men were pulling away with might and main, yet the bird could not be drawn nearer the stern; and, at length, crack went the line, and off it flew with the hook and the remainder of the line in its mouth.

“Poor creature! I am afraid it will die a miserable death, instead of speedily being put out of its sufferings, as it would have been had it more wisely come on board,” observed Mr Hooker. “However, we must get another line and take care there is no flaw in it.”

The passengers now amused themselves by throwing bits of meat overboard, and seeing the albatrosses pounce down and snap up the tempting morsels. At last Mr Hooker’s fresh line was got ready. No sooner had the bait reached the water than down pounced a bird upon it, rising immediately with the hook in his mouth. This time the sailors, instead of pulling the line up, had to haul it down, just as a paper kite is hauled down from the sky; and, at length, by running forward, the huge bird was brought on deck. Still it fought bravely with its wings, which it would have been dangerous for any one to have approached. At length Mr Hooker put an end to its sufferings by a blow from a boat’s stretcher. The other albatrosses, in no way disconcerted by the disappearance of their companion, still followed the ship. Two more were caught; one hauled out of the water, the other hauled on deck like the first.

A young gentleman going out to Japan then made his appearance with a gun in his hand; and in spite of my warnings of what might be our fate should he kill one, began firing away at the birds. Even a practised marksman would not have found it easy to hit one of them, although they were in no way scared by the report of the gun. At length, however, a bullet struck one of them on the head, just as he descended into the water. In an instant down pounced his companions, driving their beaks into the dead body; and in a few minutes, while it still remained in sight, they had torn it almost to pieces.

“I hope no harm will come of that shot of yours,” I said to the young civilian; “but look out!”

The young gentleman laughed, and said he did not believe in such nonsense. Mr Hooker was soon busily employed in skinning his albatrosses and preparing the skins for stuffing.

Chapter Four.

I perform a satisfactory exploit.

Scarcely had the albatross been shot, than the wind, which had hitherto been moderate, increased considerably, and in a short time we had two reefs in our topsails. The weather, however, was in other respects fine, and away the ship went, careering over the foaming seas like a high-bred hunter, dashing them aside as she rushed onward on her course. There was something very exhilarating in the movement. The air, too, was bracing, and everybody seemed in high spirits. As I happened to pass the caboose, however, I heard Potto Jumbo, the black cook, grumbling greatly. Some one had told him that he would have to roast one of the albatrosses for dinner. Although generally a very merry, good-natured fellow, this had made him excessively irate.

“No good ever came from shooting albatross!” I heard him exclaim. “Dey like to live as much as man. Dey love freedom. Soar high, high up in de sky, den swoop down, and fly along de foaming waves. Ah, if I had wings like dem, I no peel potatoes and boil soup for ship’s company!”

He looked up, as he spoke, towards the magnificent birds which ever and anon appeared high above the ship’s bulwarks, as they darted forward as if to show at how far greater a rate they could dart through the air than she could glide over the ocean.

“Ah, you once slave, Potto Jumbo! Fancy you flying with white wings! Ha, ha, ha!”

This remark was made by a dark-skinned native of the East, who was standing at the time near the caboose. He was the serang of the Lascars, of whom we had a dozen on board. Ali Tomba was his name. He and Potto Jumbo could not abide each other, so it seemed. His dark countenance, with high cheek-bones and fierce eyes, was far from prepossessing, though his figure was well-formed; his shoulders broad, with a small waist, and muscular arms and legs, denoting great strength and activity. His hands and feet were wonderfully small, considering the work to which they had been put from his earliest days. He and his men wore their Eastern dress, consisting of shirt and jacket, and a sort of kilt formed from a circular piece of plaid, a scarf worn over the shoulders, which served as a covering in bad weather, or could be wrapped round the arm for a shield in battle. A red cotton handkerchief, generally well stiffened, was their usual head-dress. They were remarkably active fellows aloft, and few things which an English sailor could do they would not venture to undertake. However, neither Ali nor his men were favourites on board. They obeyed the superior officers readily enough, but I observed that when Mr Tarbox directed them to do anything, they did it in a sulky way. Why this was I could not make out.—Ali stood by, bantering the cook about his remark. Potto Jumbo had taken a liking to me. He had been on board the ship in her former voyage, and I believe knew my history. He himself was deserted—without friends in the world—and this gave him a fellow feeling, as he considered that his case was similar to mine. I had an idea, indeed, that there was more in Potto Jumbo than appeared. Though he had a warm and quick temper, he was evidently kind-hearted I judged it by the way he treated the animals on board. Merlin, especially, was a favourite of his, and he took good care that he should never be without a plentiful dinner. Even in the way he put the dog’s food down he showed his kind disposition; and while he was mixing up the mess and Merlin stood by wagging his tail and licking his lips, Potto Jumbo always cast a kind glance downwards at his four-footed friend, and generally had a pleasant word to give him into the bargain.

For Oliver Farwell, however, he had a greater regard than for anybody on board. I rather think because he more than any one else seemed to require sympathy and protection. Though the boy had plenty of spirit, he seemed scarcely fitted for the rough life on board ship. The other boys, when they could do so without being seen by Potto Jumbo, amused themselves by ridiculing and teasing Oliver. They seemed to delight in playing him all sorts of tricks, and very often pretty rough ones too. I had never spoken much to Oliver, though I observed that whenever Mr Hooker was describing anything, Oliver, if he could do so without impropriety, stopped and listened, and seemed to take great interest in what was said. When work was over, I often saw him in the pantry reading. Not only on Sundays, but every day nearly, it seemed to me, he read the Bible at odd moments; indeed, a sailor at sea, unless he takes odd moments for reading, may never read at all. Oliver had not only his duties as a cabin-boy to attend to, but as he wished to become a sailor, and the captain desired that he should become one, he was frequently employed on deck.

At the moment I am describing, Oliver Farwell had gone forward, and with several other boys was in the fore-rigging. What they were about I do not remember, but, looking up, I saw they were skylarking, and it seemed as if the others were trying to play Oliver some trick. Be that as it may, all of a sudden I saw one of them fall from aloft. I thought it was Oliver. Of course it ought not to have made any difference to me who it was. I expected that he would be killed, but he struck the hammock nettings, and bounded overboard. I did not stop a moment to think. It did not occur to me that it would take a long time to heave the ship to, and to lower a boat, and with the heavy sea running the operation would be a difficult and dangerous one, and that it would be equally difficult to pick anybody out of the water. I had been noted at school for being a good swimmer, and had, just before I left, saved the life of a school-fellow who had got out of his depth, and been carried out a good way by the current. I had followed him, dived after he had sank, and brought him to the surface, and then hauled him on to the bank of the river where we were bathing. I remembered this, or perhaps I should say I did not think about anything but the one idea of saving the life of a fellow-creature. I was lightly clad. Throwing off my jacket, before Potto Jumbo could cry out, or any one else attempt to stop me, I was overboard. I was in the water almost as soon as the cry of “A man overboard!” was raised.

A glance aloft showed me that it was Oliver Farwell who had fallen. As I reached the water I could see him on the top of a wave, just as the ship’s quarter glided past me. I shouted out to him, and swam forward. I now found how different it was swimming in smooth water and swimming in the heavy sea there was running. At the same time I had been accustomed to fresh water, which is less buoyant than salt, and thus I felt myself greatly supported.

The instant the cry of “A man overboard!” was raised, a life-buoy was let go. It fell some distance from me. I doubted whether I should swim to that and tow it to Oliver, or go to Oliver first and try to get him up to it. My fear was that Oliver would sink before I could reach him. I determined to get hold of Oliver. I could hear the cries of the people on board as they watched me, encouraging me in my attempt. I had scarcely been in the water ten minutes when I heard a peculiar rushing sound, and turning round my head saw the long wings of an enormous albatross passing close above me. A blow from its beak would have been fatal. I looked towards Oliver more anxiously than ever, fearing that, passing me, it might strike him. I shouted to him, and told him to shout too, hoping that the noise might scare off the bird. Others, however, came sweeping by. Again a wing almost touched my head. Diving, I knew, would have been of no use, for the creature might have followed me far lower than I could have sunk. Still I swam on.

I heard another shout, and as I rose to the top of a wave I saw just astern of the ship a black head and face—it was Potto Jumbo. Above his head he waved a long knife. He intended it as a signal that he was coming to my assistance. At the same instant a loud bark came from the stern of the ship, and I saw Merlin, who appeared one moment at the taffrail, and the next leaped over into the foaming ocean. Nearer and nearer he approached. I was more anxious for him than for my human friend, as I was afraid the albatrosses would attack him, and he had no means of defending himself. Although I had followed Oliver almost immediately into the water, it seemed a long time before I could get up to him. A curling wave rolled towards him; he was buried beneath it. I thought he had sunk for ever. I darted forward, and caught sight of him just beneath the surface. I seized him by the collar of his jacket, and together we rose to the surface. He was still conscious.

“Throw yourself on your back!” I cried. I helped him to do so. And now I struck out for the life-buoy. A sea providentially threw it towards us. Sooner than I could have expected I had hold of it, and had placed one of the beckets in Oliver’s hands. Not a moment too soon. I turned my glance upward for an instant at the bright blue sky, out of which the hot sun shone on the sparkling waters. Suddenly a dark shadow seemed to intervene. I heard a rushing sound, distinct amid the roar of the waves, and, to my horror, I saw close above me a huge pair of white wings, from which projected the head and formidable beak of a bird. He was darting towards me. A blow from that beak might have struck either of us senseless. The only means of defence I could think of was my shoe. I pulled it from my foot to ward off the blow. The bird seized it, and, as if content with his prize, off he flew. A shout of applause from Potto Jumbo reached us, and in another minute he and Merlin got up to the life-buoy. A sea was on the point of taking off Oliver, but Merlin seized him by the collar, and dragged him back within my reach. Satisfied for the moment, he kept swimming round and round us, as if prepared to render any assistance which might be required. I was indeed thankful that he had come, for I could with difficulty help Oliver to hold on to the life-buoy. Another, and another bird flew towards us, but whether frightened at our shouts, or the flourish of Potto Jumbo’s sharp blade, I do not know, but, circling round, they flew off again as if in search of other prey.

We could now see the ship hove to. A boat was lowered, but so long was she before shoving off, so it seemed to me, that we were afraid some accident had happened. One idea occurred to me while in the water. Should I be lost, what would become of Emily? I thought of the prayer of the sinking master of the ship in Falconer’s “Shipwreck,” and I prayed for her I loved best on earth, as many a seaman undoubtedly has prayed, when tossing on the foaming waves. Still I had no fears; I knew that that prayer would be heard.

“Keep up, Massa Walter! Keep up!” cried Potto Jumbo, as he helped me to hold our companion on to the life-buoy, and saw that I indeed required aid myself. “Keep up, Massa Walter! boat soon come. See, see! dere she is away from the ship! Hurrah! Never say die! See, she comes! Joe Tarbox or the first mate in her. Never fear! Hurrah, hurrah!”

Thus he continued shouting, for the double purpose of keeping up our spirits, and of scaring away the albatrosses. Now, at length, I saw that the boat was clear of the ship. On she came. Now she appeared on the summit of a foaming sea, now she was hid from view in the trough below it; then again she came in sight, for when she was sinking we at the same time were rising in most instances, and could therefore look over the intervening seas. Still the time seemed very long. It required careful management to get near the life-buoy without striking us. To pick up one person was difficult, but to take up three the risk was far greater.

“You go first!” cried Potto Jumbo, as the boat approached.

“No, no,” I said; “let Oliver be taken in. He is almost drowned as it is.”

We could see the boat’s bows almost above us. It seemed as if the next instant she would come down like a huge hammer upon our heads. But Joe Tarbox knew well what he was about, and turned her head aside, while a strong arm stretched forth, seized hold of Oliver as Potto Jumbo held him up, and he was safe on board. My companion insisted on my going next. Again the boat, which had been driven off by the sea, approached us.

“Quick! quick!” cried Joe. “Have them both in at once!”

I was nearest my friend, and seizing hold of me he hauled me in over the quarter, while Potto sprang to the side, and was dragged in by the other men. Merlin waited till he saw us both on board, and not till then did he push for the boat, with his snout lifted up as if asking for assistance. Ready hands were stretched out to him, and with their help he quickly scrambled on board, and made his way aft to the stern-sheets, where he looked into my face as if to inquire whether I was all right.

“We must have the life-buoy, though,” cried Joe; “for another of us may be falling overboard before long.”

As there was no danger of injuring the life-buoy, that was quickly got on board. And now commenced our return to the ship. It required careful steering to make our way amid those heavy seas, and still more dangerous was it to get alongside. Oliver, who was scarcely conscious, was first hoisted up. I was very glad of assistance to get up too; for though I did not feel fatigued, my strength had really almost gone. No sooner had I reached the deck than I found myself in Emily’s arms.

“Dear, dear Walter!” she exclaimed; “you brave boy; and yet—” and she burst into tears.

Mrs Davenport and Grace were close behind her. “You must come below, Walter—come below and get off your wet things!” they exclaimed.

Merlin followed Potto Jumbo on deck, and, giving himself a thorough shaking, came aft, wagging his tail, to receive the approving pats of his friends; while the black cook, casting a look behind him, which seemed to say that he was indifferent to the compliments which might have been paid him, made his way forward into the fore-peak to shift his wet clothes.

I will not repeat the complimentary things which were said to me by the passengers. Mr Hooker wrung my hand.

“It was well and bravely done, Walter,” he exclaimed. “I am glad to see that you have got it in you.”

“Oh! I did not think about it,” I answered honestly. “I once before picked a fellow out of the water, so I thought I ought to try to do it again. I know there are a good many people who cannot swim, and I hoped that I could do it.”

I quickly had my wet things off, and made my appearance again on deck, not much the worse for my exertions, though perhaps my hand did tremble a little; and I was not sorry when the captain asked me into the cuddy-cabin, and gave me a glass of wine.

“I am thankful that you saved that poor boy, Walter,” he said, giving me one of his kind looks. “I should be deeply grieved to lose him. He is the only son of a widowed mother, and her heart would have been broken had he been lost. He had shipped on board a vessel bound for the coast of Africa, when I found him, and persuaded the captain to let him come aboard my ship; for the crew were a rough lot, and he would have learned no good among them, while the risk of losing his life on the coast would have been very great. His poor mother had seen better days, I found. I do not know much of her history, but I know she brought up two daughters, and gave them a good education, and she had done in the same way all she could for this boy; but I believe that her means failed her, and she was then unable to pay for his instruction, so that he only got what she herself could give him. The boy’s whole heart had been set on going to sea, little knowing, of course, what he would have to go through.”

Soon after we came on board, it began to blow much harder; and we had good reason to be thankful that the accident had not happened later in the day. I was, after this event, made a good deal of on board. The captain observed that I ran a considerable risk of being spoiled. It was not fair, indeed, that I should get all the praise, when the black cook had also behaved in a gallant manner. Indeed, if it had not been for him, I suspect that the albatrosses would have finished both Oliver and me before the boat could have got up to us.

“Very glad you escaped, Massa Walter,” said Potto Jumbo, the following day. “Dear me! I jump overboard twice as much sea as dat!” he added, when I told him how thankful I was to him. “Me fight shark with one big knife, and cut him under the t’roat and kill him. Potto Jumbo one ’phibious animal, so doctor once say to me. I swim in de water like porpoise, and climb tree like monkey. Ah! you see de monkeys when we get out dere,” and Potto Jumbo pointed eastward. “Ah! dat one fine country, only little too hot sometimes for lily-white skins;” and Potto Jumbo grinned from ear to ear, as if congratulating himself that his own dark covering was impervious to the sun’s rays of that or any other region.

Potto Jumbo’s chief friend was an English seaman—Roger Trew by name. Roger was short and stout, with wonderfully long arms, and of immense strength; but he never put it forth except in the way of duty, and was on ordinary occasions as mild and gentle as a lamb. I believe Potto Jumbo admired him because he had the power of knocking any man down on board who might offend him, and yet did not use it. The captain considered Trew a good seaman; and so, I know, did Joe Tarbox. His figure did not appear well suited for going aloft, and yet no man could more quickly overhaul the weather earing in a heavy gale than he could. I have said sufficient about the ship’s company for the present. I do not mention others, because there was nothing very remarkable about them. I had been doing my best to become a seaman ever since I stepped on board, both by making myself acquainted with every manoeuvre performed, and learning the arts of knotting and splicing, reefing and steering, as well as studying navigation. The captain told me that he was well pleased with my progress, and this encouraged me to persevere. My great ambition was to learn a profession, and thus to be independent. It is what all boys should aim at. I had originally no particular taste for the sea; but having chosen it, I was determined to be a thorough sailor. How many among my schoolfellows could not make up their minds what to be, or did not seem to think that it was necessary to be something or other. Now my idea was, and is stronger now, that every person ought to possess some especial knowledge of a profession, calling, or trade, by the practice of which he can maintain himself. If all boys and lads were impressed with this important practical truth, how many might be saved from ruin, from “going to the dogs,” as the phrase is, simply because they have no honest means of supporting themselves. I say this here, because I may otherwise forget to say it elsewhere, and I am very anxious to impress it on the minds of my readers. We had two men on board the Bussorah Merchant who had been at good schools, and at a university, but had failed to benefit by their advantages. They had had money—one, indeed, several hundreds a year—but they had dissipated the whole of it, and had been wandering about the streets of London for several months utterly penniless, till they shipped as seaman before the mast on board a ship bound round Cape Horn. After knocking about in the Pacific for some years, they had returned home no richer than when they went out, and were glad immediately to ship aboard us. From their appearance and manners I should not have suspected what they had been, till one day I heard one of them quoting “Horace” to the other. He was rather surprised when I capped the verse; and by degrees, having gained their confidence, they gave me the account I now repeat, with a great many more circumstances which I do not consider it necessary to narrate. Poor fellows, they had been so thoroughly accustomed to the rough ways of the roughest of seamen, that I suspect they had lost all taste for a more refined style of life. So I say to my young readers, whatever you do, fix upon a profession, and try to make yourself thoroughly competent to fill it. Do not rest or flag till you have done so; and never for a moment suppose that you will have any permanent enjoyment in an idle life.

We had got nearly half-way across the Indian Ocean, when, one day as I was aloft, I saw in the far distance an object which looked like a log of wood, with a tiny white sail appearing above it. I hailed the deck, and Mr Thudicumb bringing his glass, came up to look at it. After some time it was reported to the captain, and the ship was kept away towards it. As we approached, Mr Thudicumb said it appeared to him like a canoe; but though she seemed to be steering steadily before the wind, no one could be seen aboard her.

Chapter Five.

Suspicious behaviour of the Lascars.

Numerous telescopes were turned towards the object I have described. “I see a man’s head!” cried one. “Yes; and his shoulders!” exclaimed another. “He is leaning back in the stern of the canoe, steering with a paddle.” He had not discovered us, though, for on he went careering over the seas as unconcernedly as if he were not some hundreds of miles away from land.

In a short time we were abreast of the canoe, passing her to leeward. A dark-skinned man, lightly clad, sat in the stern steering with an oar. His sail was a piece of calico spread on a slender yard, the mast being scarcely thicker than the yard. Not till we were close to him did he perceive us. Lifting up his hands towards the ship, he pointed to his mouth, making an imploring gesture at the same time. Apparently he was trying to speak, but his voice was too weak to be heard. Still he sat as before, not attempting to rise and lower the sail; but on went the light canoe, dancing from wave to wave, now gliding down from the top of one, quickly to mount to the summit of another.

“I doubt, sir, whether he has got the strength to move,” said Mr Thudicumb to the captain. “Or he is afraid of his canoe broaching to, should he attempt to leave the helm.”

“We must run on, and heave to for him,” said Captain Davenport. “We can then lower a boat and pick him up. It is as you suppose, Thudicumb; I have no doubt about it.”

The poor occupant of the canoe made a gesture of despair as he saw the ship leaving him astern. Apparently he did not understand the meaning of the words addressed to him through the captain’s speaking-trumpet. Still he sat as before, his eyes kept constantly ahead, while with one arm he directed the course of his canoe. She flew so fast that we had to get a considerable distance ahead before we hove to. A boat was then lowered, into which Mr Tarbox and six stout hands jumped for the purpose of intercepting the approaching canoe. The boat had only just time to get ready, with her head in the direction towards which the canoe was sailing, when she was up to her. We watched her anxiously from the ship. She was soon alongside the boat. Several strong hands seized her, while the occupant was lifted out and placed in the stern-sheets of the boat. Quick as lightning the canoe was passed astern and secured, and the boat pulled back towards the ship. With the heavy sea there was running, it was a difficult matter to get alongside, and still more so to lift up a helpless person without risk of injury. By the management of the boatswain, however, helped by those above, the dark-skinned stranger was soon lifted up on deck. He was too weak to speak, but he had still consciousness sufficient to point to his lips. Soup for the passengers’ luncheon was just being brought aft. A little was immediately poured down his throat. It had the effect of reviving him somewhat, and he uttered a few words, but none of those standing round were able to comprehend their meaning. The canoe was safely got on board and examined. Not a particle of food was found, but in the bottom of a small cask there remained about half a pint of water. The wood, however, from the sides of the canoe had been scraped off.

“That is what the poor fellow has been living on,” observed Tarbox. “Hard fare, to be sure. It would not help much to keep an Englishman’s soul in his body; but it is wonderful what these black fellows can live on.”

The canoe was about eighteen feet long, cut out of a single log, worked very fine, with wash-boards nailed on above. It seemed surprising that she could have gone through the heavy sea which had been running for some days past. Her owner was carried below, and after a little more food had been given him, he fell fast asleep.

When he awoke, he appeared to be perfectly recovered, sitting up and looking round him with an air of astonishment, as if he had not been aware how he had been brought on board. I had accompanied the surgeon to visit him. He again uttered some of the strange words we had before heard, but finding no one understood him, he stopped, and appeared to be collecting his senses. He then said something which sounded like French. It was very bad French, to be sure; but we shortly made out that he was expressing his thanks to us for having rescued him.

The next day he was up and dressed, and though somewhat weak, perhaps, apparently as well as anybody on board. He now came aft, when, in his broken language, helped out with a word or two of English, he gave us a strange story. I cannot pretend to give his account in his own language—indeed it would not be very clear if I did so, as it was only after he had been on board some time that we gained all the particulars. He told us that his name was Macco, that he was born in Madagascar, at a village in the north of that large island. With several lads from the same village he had gone on board a vessel which had carried them to the Mauritius. There he had worked as a field-labourer for some time, and though not a slave, treated very little better than one. He had learned something about Christianity, but not much, I am afraid. He knew that some of his countrymen had become Christians; but as large numbers of them had been murdered, he was afraid, should he ever go back to Madagascar, that he might be treated in the same way, and was therefore unwilling to acknowledge that he was a Christian. After a time he had engaged with several other people from Madagascar, as well as Creoles of the Mauritius, to accompany a person to the island of Rodrigez, to be employed under him as fishermen. They were at once embarked on board a small colonial vessel, which conveyed them to that island, where they were hired out to different masters. It appeared, however, that the Creoles were very jealous of the Malagasys, and poor Macco found himself very ill-treated by them. Frequently they beat him, and often threatened his life. Several times he complained of their conduct to his master; but the man was hard-hearted, and only laughed at his complaints, telling him to go and thrash the Creoles, and they would soon cease to torment him. Poor Macco, however, was a mild-tempered young man, and probably thought that he would only be treated worse if he made any such attempt. At length, to avoid the persecutions to which he was subjected, he determined to run away from the island, and endeavour to reach the Mauritius. He mentioned his determination to one of his fellow-countrymen, who advised him to put it into execution. He, however, had to wait some time before he could carry out his project. He began, however, at once to store up a supply of food to support himself during his projected voyage. At first he contemplated building a canoe for himself, but as that might raise suspicions of his intentions, he resolved to take one belonging to his master. He had some scruples about stealing it, but at the same time he persuaded himself that as his master would not redress his grievances, he was justified in doing so. He probably was unacquainted with the golden rule of never doing wrong that good might come of it. It was a subject, indeed, on which casuists might differ. Be that as it may, Macco fixed on a canoe which he thought would answer his purpose. His countrymen assisted him, and he procured a piece of calico to serve as a sail, and soon cut a mast and spar on which to spread it. The only food he was able to provide for supporting existence was eight pounds of uncooked rice, and a small barrel of water.

One evening as it was growing dark he stole down to the shore, and the wind being as he thought fair, shoved off the canoe, hoisted a sail, and with an oar for steering, which he secured to the stern of the canoe, stood away from the land. The weather at first was very fine, and he glided smoothly over the sea, hoping before long to reach either the Mauritius or Bourbon. He was unable to restrain his hunger, which the uncooked rice could have done little to appease, and therefore ate up nearly a pound a day. Thus at the end of eight or nine days he had finished the whole of his provisions. He had still some water left, however, and he knew very well that he could go without food for a day, hoping before the end of it to have land in sight. He scarcely stirred from his seat in the stern of the canoe. When he dropped off to sleep, the movement of the oar very soon awoke him. Few Europeans on such fare would have lived beyond the first ten days. Macco, however, when his rice was expended, began to scrape away the wood from the inside of his canoe. This, cut up fine, he ate, washing it down with water. Day after day passed by, and still no land, no sail appeared. Often he slept, steering instinctively, it must have been, before the wind, and waking up to feel the gnawing of hunger. This he satisfied with the scraped wood. Incredible as it may appear, such was the only food on which he supported existence for thirteen days. We had many opportunities of testing the man’s honesty and had no reason to doubt his veracity. He was of course little more than skin and bone when he was brought on board. He had actually been twenty-two days at sea when we found him.

Note. The narrative is true, and is given exactly as described in the original account.

In the course of a few days he had completely recovered his strength, and seemed very well satisfied with his lot. As he was a smart, active fellow, he was entered as one of the seamen of the Bussorah Merchant. He knew a little English already, and quickly picked up more. He was thus well able to understand the orders given him. He did not appear to be a favourite with the men. He was evidently retiring and unsociable. Perhaps he had been so long subjected to ill-treatment from others, that he was unwilling to place confidence in those among whom he was cast, until he had ascertained that they were well-disposed towards him. I observed, however, that Ali was constantly speaking to him, but I rather doubt that their words were very intelligible to each other, as English was the only common language they possessed. Ali knew it very imperfectly, and Macco still less. More than once I observed Ali’s quick, piercing, fierce eyes fixed on him attentively, as he appeared to be endeavouring to impress some matter on his mind. Macco’s look all the time was passive, and he either did not comprehend what was said, or was uninfluenced by it.

One night, when it was my watch on deck, I had been standing looking out on the forecastle, when I heard a voice near me say, “When you step aft, Massa Walter, I got word to whisper in your ear.” It was Potto Jumbo who spoke. I had thought that he had been in his bunk asleep.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I tell presently—not here, though,” he answered, gliding away from me, and going over to the other side of the deck, where he stood, as if looking up and admiring the stars which glittered above our heads.

As soon as I could leave the forecastle, I went and stood near the gangway, where the black cook soon joined me.

“I no like what going forward on board, forward there,” and he pointed to the fore-peak. “Dat Ali Tomba one big rascal. He go talky talky to de men, and try to make dem mutinous like hisself.”

“But what can he have to complain of?” I observed; “the crew seem all well treated.”

“Dere it is dat make me angry,” said Potto. “He come to me one day, he say, ‘Potto Jumbo, you black slave, you peel potato for white men; dey make you do what dey like. Why not strike one blow for freedom?’ I say, ‘I free as any man on board. I come here because I like come here. I go away when voyage over, and live ashore like one gentleman till money gone, and den come to sea again. No man more free dan I.’”

“I think you are right, Potto,” I observed, “on that point; but surely Ali fancies that he has some cause of complaint. Why does he not speak out like a man, and say what it is? Have you any idea?”

“Just dis, Massa Walter,” he answered; “in de last ship Ali sailed in, de captain was one big tyrant. He flogged de men, he stopped de men’s wages, he feed dem badly, and treat dem worse dan de dogs in de street without masters. One day dis Captain Ironfist—dat was his name—go to flog Ali, but Ali draw his knife and swear he die first or kill de captain; but de captain knocked him down wid one handspike, and put Ali in irons, and den flog him, and den put him back in irons; and den carried him to port, and den put him into prison. Captain Ironfist sailed away in another ship, and Ali not find him; so Ali swore dat he would have his revenge on de next captain he sailed wid. He no find opportunity to do harm to Captain Davenport as yet, but he wait like snake in de grass to spring up and sting him when he can. Now he and his men want to go to Calcutta, and dey thought when de ship sailed dat dey were going dere. Now dey find dat we go to Japan, dey bery angry, and all swear dat de ship shall go to Calcutta in spite of de captain. Dere are some bad Englishmen on board as well as demselves, and dey up to any mischief, and Ali tink he count on dem. He tink too he count on Potto Jumbo, but he make one big mistake. I no say anything when he talk to me, but shrug my shoulders, and make one ugly face at him, and so he tink all right. He tink too he got Macco, but Potto not so certain of dat.”

“But, surely,” I observed, “he and his Lascars would not attempt to take the ship from the captain and officers, with the larger number of the white crew, who would certainly side with us?”

“Don’t know,” said Potto. “He one daring fellow, and he try anyting; but if he find he no strong enough, he try to burn de ship or to scuttle her. At all events, he try to do some mischief.”

“This is, indeed, a serious matter,” I observed; “and I am grateful to you, Potto, for telling me. At the same time, however, bad as Ali’s intentions may be, I really do not think we have much cause for alarm. Still, I am sure the captain also will be grateful to you for the warning you give him; but I am afraid he will be very much annoyed when he hears of it. I think I must first tell Mr Thudicumb, and he can arrange the best way of letting the captain know.”

“Dat’s it, Massa Walter. Tell de first officer. He wise man. He no put out by dis or any oder matter. I now go forward, lest Ali come on deck, or any of his people, and see me talking to you.”

“Do so,” I said; “but, Potto, I think you will assist us if you would pretend to be more ready to listen to what Ali has to say to you, and you can give me information of his plans.”

Potto did not answer immediately.

“I not certain dat Ali speak de truth to me,” he answered. “At first he did; but he big, cunning rogue, and he suspect dat I no love his plans. Still, Massa Walter, I do as you wish, dough Potto Jumbo no like to act spy over any one, even big rascal like Ali. Potto Jumbo once prince in his own country, before de enemies of his people came and burnt his village, and kill his fader, and moder, and broders, and sisters, and carry off him and all dey did leave alive on board de slave-ship. Den de British cruiser take her, and Potto Jumbo enter on board de man-of-war, and dere became boy to de cook, and now Potto Jumbo is cook hisself on board de Bussorah Merchant. Dere, Massa Walter, you have my history. You see I do not wish to do anything derogatory to my family and my rank;” and Potto Jumbo drew himself up, as if he was again the monarch of half-a-dozen bamboo-built cottages, and their unclothed, dark-skinned inhabitants. “Now, good-night, Massa Walter, again; I go forward.”

Potto Jumbo glided away to the fore-peak, and I walked aft. I had, however, some little time to wait before my watch was over. I then hurried into the first mate’s cabin. He was about to leave it to take charge of the deck.

“Will you let me have a word with you, sir,” I said, “before you leave the cabin. I have something somewhat unpleasant to communicate, and I do not like to delay doing so.”

“Let me have it out then at once, Walter,” he said. “Nothing like the present moment; and, for my part, I always like to know the worst, if I can get at it.”

I at once told him in a low voice the information I had received from Potto Jumbo. The light of the lamp in his cabin fell on his weather-beaten countenance, but I saw no change in it.

“Very likely,” he observed; “that serang has a hang-dog look, which shows that he is capable of attempting any atrocity; but I do not think he will succeed notwithstanding. I will tell the captain in the morning, but there is no necessity to do so now. For his own sake, he will not set the ship on fire, or scuttle her, at this distance from land; and as to his hope of overpowering us, or the English part of the crew, the idea is absurd. However, I will warn the other officers. You go and tell Mr Tarbox I wish to speak to him. Take care the Lascar fellows do not see you; and then go back to your berth and turn in.”

I made my way to the boatswain’s cabin, and, rousing him up, told him that the first officer wished to see him on a matter of importance.

“I need ask no questions, Walter,” he observed. “Do you know what it is about?”

“Mr Thudicumb will tell you all about it,” I replied; keeping to my resolution of not speaking to any one else about the matter.

I then went to my berth, and feeling sure that all would be managed wisely by the first officer, was in less than a couple of minutes fast asleep. In my dreams, however, I heard fearful noises. I fancied I saw the mutineers rushing aft; but instead of ten Lascars, there were fifty or one hundred dark-skinned fellows, with sharp krisses in their hands, threatening destruction to all who opposed them.

Chapter Six.

The ship in danger.

I was awoke by the cry of “All hands, shorten sail.” Slipping on my clothes, I sprang on deck. The sea was running high, the ship was heeling over to a strong breeze. I flew to the rigging, and my station in the mizzen-top. It was daylight. The crew were swarming up the rigging, and I could distinguish the Lascars forward among the most active. Whatever might have been their intentions for evil, they seemed as eager as any one in taking in the reefs. The serang himself lay out on the weather yard-arm, and I saw him, earing in hand, working away actively with the rest. The dream was still vivid on my mind; and I could not help feeling surprised at seeing him thus engaged, when I had expected to be struggling in a deadly conflict with him and his companions. The ship was soon brought under snug sail, and standing on her course to the eastward. The watch below returned to their bunks to take the remainder of their short night’s rest, and I was quickly asleep.

Again the same dream came back to me. Once more the Lascars made their way aft, but this time stealthily. I fancied I saw Ali leading them through the gloom of night, whilst the captain was unconscious of their approach, gazing over the taffrail, as if watching some object astern. I tried to warn him, but could not make my voice heard. Ali was close to him, with his kriss ready to strike, when I heard the watch below called.

In a moment I was awake. My dream was at an end. I dressed as usual for the morning work of washing down decks, and in another minute was paddling about with my bare feet on the planks, among idlers holy-stoning, and topmen dashing buckets of water here and there on every side, often into the face of some unhappy wight to whom they owed a grudge. The wind did not increase, but there was sufficient sea on to keep many of the passengers below. Mrs Davenport, however, with Emily and Grace, came on deck. They required, however, assistance to move about, which I and the third mate, and a young civilian going out to Singapore, had the satisfaction of rendering them. Emily and Grace sat watching the high, tossing, foaming seas with delight.

“How grand!” exclaimed Emily. “I quite envy the huge fish which can swim about unconcerned in these tumbling waves, or the sea-fowl which fly over them from ridge to ridge bathing in the spray.”

Grace admired the masses of white foam which flew off from the summits of the seas as they rolled grandly by. Mr Hooker was the merriest of the party, and seemed well pleased with the delight the girls exhibited at the new aspect the ocean had put on. He only regretted that he could not read as much as usual, as he was tempted, like them, to remain on deck and observe it.

I had not forgotten what I had heard from Potto Jumbo about Ali and his companions. I observed them on deck going about their duty as quietly and orderly as any one. Mr Thudicumb had not again alluded to the subject, and I could not tell whether or not he had informed the captain. I could not, however, help suspecting that Ali had seen Potto speaking to me, and that he might therefore be acting as he was doing for the purpose of throwing us off our guard. I resolved to mention my suspicion to Mr Thudicumb as soon as I had an opportunity, and in the meantime to watch Ali, and try to find out what he was about. I had no opportunity of speaking, unobserved, to the black cook; for whenever I went forward either Ali himself, or one of the Lascars, were near the caboose. I suspected that they went there purposely.

For three days the gale continued. At last, one evening Mr Thudicumb called me into his cabin.

“I have not been asleep, Walter,” he said. “The captain knows all about the matter. He does not think that the Lascars will really carry out their plans, and suspects that Ali was merely attempting to frighten the black cook. Still, as a matter of precaution, he has directed all the officers, as well as most of the gentlemen passengers, to carry arms; and has warned Mr Tarbox, and three or four of the most trustworthy of the men, to be on the alert. However, while the gale blows, there is little fear that they will attempt anything; but if we were to have a long calm, their courage would get up, as they would believe that they could navigate the ship in smooth water, should they be able to gain possession of her.”

That night the sea had gone down, and the weather appeared mending. While I was on deck, I found Potto Jumbo by my side.

“Well, Potto,” I said, “do you think our friends have given up their kind intentions?”

“No, Massa Walter,” he answered. “Me tink dey cut your t’roat, and my t’roat, and de captain’s t’roat, and de mate’s t’roat, and everybody’s t’roat who no side wid dem.”

“Then would it not be better to get them all put in irons at once?” I observed. “I wonder the captain does not secure them.”

“Dey done nothing,” answered Potto. “Dey good, obedient seamen. What for de captain put dem in irons? I only try and find out, and tink and guess what dey want to do.”

“True,” I observed; “then all we can do is to watch till they commit some overt act, as the lawyers call it.”

“I don’t know what overt act is,” observed my friend; “but I know dat if dey stick de kriss into me, or de mate, or Massa Tarbox, dey no stop dere. When dey begin, I know what dese fellows are.”

“Then, what we must do, is to watch them narrowly,” I observed.

“Ay, ay, Massa Walter, I got my eyes about me; neber fear of dat. Dey tink me go to sleep. When cunning Lascar talk and plot, and say what he will do, Potto lies wid one eye just little open, peeping out of de bunk and awake, and snore all the time like de big animal you call ’nosorous in my country. Dey say, ‘Dat black cook is fast asleep—he no understand what we say.’—Now, good-night, Massa Walter; me go below and talk of de tree glass of grog I got, and den lie down, and go off to sleep and snore. Ha, ha, ha! Potto Jumbo no sleep when his friends in danger, and their enemies plotting.”

He said this in his usual low voice, and leaving me, dived below. By the next forenoon the sea had almost completely gone down. The reefs had been shaken out of the sails, and under our usual canvas we were making good speed across the ocean. Passing near the caboose, Potto Jumbo popped out his head.

“Tell de first mate to be on de watch. Dey going to do something—mischief—never fear dat; me know not what dough, dey so quiet; but dey intend to take away a boat, dat I heard dem say.”

Having thus delivered himself, Potto drew his head in within his den. As soon as I could return aft, I found an opportunity of telling Mr Thudicumb what Potto had said.

“Not much fear of their getting off,” observed the first mate. “It would be difficult for the serang and his men to lower a boat without being discovered. We must, however, keep a strict watch over him. He probably supposes that we are near some land which he hopes to reach. Still, whatever may be his intentions, we will be even with him.”

The sun had set in a glorious glow of red. The passengers were on deck enjoying the coolness of evening, though the shades of night quickly came down over the ocean. Suddenly there was a startling cry of “Fire, fire!” and a thin wreath of dark smoke was seen ascending up the fore-hatchway.

“Strike the fire-bell!” cried the captain. “No rushing, my men! Steady! Mr Thudicumb will lead the way below. Be ready with the buckets.—Mr Martin,” to the second officer, “rig a pump overboard! Mr Tarbox, come aft!”

The captain whispered a few words to him. The men obeyed all the orders promptly. A line was formed to pass the buckets as they were filled down the hold. The first officer and several men descended. The passengers joined the party to pass the buckets. Among the most active of the people appeared Ali, and two or three of his men. I observed, however, that the remainder kept together on one side of the ship. The smoke increased, in spite of the water which was now hove down on the spot whence it was supposed to proceed. Faster and faster we passed the buckets. Presently there was a cry, and first one man and then another was hauled up almost suffocated with smoke. Mr Thudicumb came last: he could scarcely stand; indeed, he appeared almost senseless. He quickly recovered, however, and insisted on again going below, though the other officers begged to take his place.

“No, no,” he shouted. “Bring wet blankets, wet bedding—anything by which we may smother the flames!”

Once more he and his companions descended with wet blankets in their arms. The seat of the fire was evidently far down.

“We must get at the cargo!” cried Mr Thudicumb, from below, to the captain, who was standing over the hatchway.

A crane was rigged, and whips rove, and bales and packages hauled up, several more men jumping below to assist. I was passing the buckets when Mr Tarbox came near me.

“Keep an eye on Ali and his people,” he said. “I have a notion this is their doing. For all they appear so active, they mean mischief, depend on it.”

Still Ali was working away, now passing along a bucket, now hoisting up a bale of merchandise. Presently, however, I saw him slip away and glide off. His men, who had apparently been watching him, directly afterwards also made their way up to the starboard quarter boat; and I observed that each man carried a package of some sort. I ran round to where the boatswain was assisting in hoisting up the cargo; and he and several men, whom he summoned, instantly sprang aft, where we found Ali and his companions in the act of lowering the boat. Two were already in her. “Hold fast, you villains!” cried Tarbox, giving a blow to Ali, which knocked him over.

His companions drew their sharp knives, which they had concealed in their trousers, and made a rush at the boatswain, who was, however, too quick for them, and drawing a pistol from his pocket, presented it at the head of the first; while the men, seizing some boat-stretchers which had been placed ready for use by the boatswain, laid about them with so much energy that they quickly knocked over several of the Lascars, though two or three were wounded in the scuffle. Ali had again sprung to his feet, but instead of attempting to attack Mr Tarbox, he only cried out—

“What do you mean? I lowered a boat to save the ladies! Suppose fire gain on ship, what you do then with them?”

“Oh! is that it, my hearty!” answered Tarbox. “However, the fire is not going to gain on the ship, I hope. Do you tell your men to come out of the boat quickly, and make fast the falls again, and just you come along with me.”

Saying this, the boatswain made a rush at the Lascar, and quickly passed a rope behind his arms. Two other men were seized at the same time, their knives being taken from them. They were then dragged into one of the cabins, and a seaman with a loaded pistol placed as a guard over them.

“Now, the rest of you go forward!” cried the boatswain to the Lascars; and, without attempting resistance, they obeyed the order.

Oliver Farwell was sent aft by the captain to assist the seamen in watching the prisoners, while I again joined the gangs in passing the buckets. The smoke continued to ascend as quickly as before; and, as the cargo was removed, flames burst up, rising through the hatchway. Again Mr Thudicumb and his companions had to come on deck.

“Never fear, though,” he cried out, as soon as he had recovered from the effects of the smoke. “We are getting at the seat of the fire! More volunteers for below! Come, lads!”

He had not to make any further appeal. A dozen fresh hands, led by Mr Hooker, each carrying sails or blankets or bedding well saturated, sprang below; and I could not resist the feeling that I could do more good there than on deck. Meantime water came rushing down round us, preventing our clothes from catching fire. Happily the ship was steady, or the danger would have been greatly increased.

I shall never forget that scene. The lurid glare of the fire cast a ruddy glow over the figures of the men as they gathered round the crater-like opening which had been made, while dark wreaths of smoke hung over the deck above us, and curled up towards the hatchway. Scarcely, however, had a fresh supply of sails and bedding been thrown over the hole, aided by the streams of water which came rushing into it, than the flames suddenly subsided.

“Hurrah!” shouted Mr Thudicumb, and the cry was taken up by Mr Hooker and the rest of us. “More water! more water!”

Bucket after bucket was handed down and dashed into the opening, and again hauled up. We were now left in almost total darkness: not a glimmer of light remained. The smoke entirely disappeared, though the strong smell of it remained. The first officer called for lanterns, and they were quickly brought by the boatswain and his mates. He now descended into the lower hold, and the blankets and bedding were hoisted up out of it.

“It is as well we got out these bales,” I heard him observe to the boatswain. “Here, Tarbox; what do you say to this?”

It was evident on examination that a space had been cleared out under the cargo, and filled with straw and shavings and other light matter. This had caused the smoke, though until the bales above it had been removed the flames were kept down. When the superincumbent bales were lifted off, the flames quickly rose up; but the material which fed them being light, had speedily burned out before they had time to ignite the surrounding cargo, which, fortunately being very tightly packed, did not easily catch fire. A thorough examination having been made, no further signs of fire could be discovered. A couple of trusty hands were placed to watch the hold, and those who were drenched to the skin retired to put on dry garments.

I soon afterwards met Mr Tarbox, and asked him if he suspected the cause of the fire.

“Of course I do,” he answered. “Depend upon it, that fellow Ali and his gang have had a hand in it; but how they managed to get below without being discovered is more than I can say.”

The captain and officers held now a consultation, and the rest of the Lascars were seized, and the whole of the party put in irons. I will not describe the scenes which took place in the cabin after it was known that the fire had been thoroughly put out, and that we were once more in safety. The passengers exhibited their feelings in a variety of ways. Some wept, others laughed; and many, I am glad to say, knelt down and returned thanks to Heaven for the protection which had been afforded us. I kissed my dear sister Emily, and told her how thankful I was that she was safe; for, indeed, my thoughts had been of her all the time, more than of anything else.

The next morning Ali and his companions were brought up for trial before the captain and officers and several passengers. Suspicions were evidently strong against them, and yet no one could prove that they had placed the combustible matter in the hold, or had set it on fire. Ali himself declared, with many oaths, that he was innocent of the charges brought against him; his air, indeed, was that of a much injured person. As to his attempt to lower a boat, he asserted positively, and his men corroborated his statement, that the order had been given by the second officer. When Martin declared he had issued no such order, Ali shrugged his shoulders, and could only say that he must have been mistaken, and that the error arose in consequence of his slight knowledge of English. When asked how they came to have arms in their hands, they said they had brought their knives for ordinary use; and in the same way they had secured some provisions, knowing that should they have to go in the boats they would be required, as they could not eat the food cooked by the Christians.

Now, if my kind friend Captain Davenport had a fault, it was that of being too lenient. Instead of keeping Ali and his gang in irons, he at once liberated them, warning them that though suspicions were strongly against them, he was willing to believe the best. I do not think either the officers or passengers were particularly well pleased with his decision. I afterwards heard Mr Thudicumb tell the boatswain to keep as bright a look-out as possible on Ali and the other Lascars.

“I doubt whether that fellow has got any gratitude in his breast; and if he is determined to do mischief, he will bide his time and do it, depend on that,” he observed.

“Ay, ay, Mr Thudicumb, I have no doubt about it,” observed Tarbox. “I only wish the captain would have kept them in irons till we get to Singapore, and would then hand them over to justice. That fellow Ali deserves hanging, to my mind, as much as any pirate who has ever swung in chains, or mutineer who has been run up to the yard-arm. It was no fault of his that this fine ship and all on board were not burned or sent to the bottom.”

Ali perhaps knew that he was watched; at all events, his whole conduct was changed. No man could behave more respectfully to the officers, or could more carefully see that those under him did their duty, while he himself worked away as hard as any one. He seemed to bear no ill-will against Tarbox or any of the other men, while he appeared to have positively a kindly feeling towards Potto Jumbo, and to be especially patronising to Macco. Indeed, after this everything went on smoothly and pleasantly among the men, while perhaps the dangers they had gone through made the passengers even more sociable and pleasant than before.

Chapter Seven.

We enter the Eastern Seas.

Land was in sight, stretching out on either hand. On the port side was the island of Sumatra; on the starboard, the north end of Java. The Bussorah Merchant, with a light wind, was standing through the Straits of Sunda. Mr Hooker walked the deck, in spite of the heat, rubbing his hands with pleasure. He was now approaching the region he had long desired to examine; and he was pleasing himself with the thoughts of the wonders of Nature which would be revealed to his sight. Soon the straits were passed, and numerous low-lying shores of various islands, large and small, appeared in sight, covered with the richest vegetation, which seemed to flourish under the fearful heat which oppressed the spirits of us poor mortals who had come from so much cooler a region. It had been hot when passing the tropics: it was hotter still now; for no clouds overhead tempered the sun’s rays. The pitch, as before, in the sides and seams of the deck, melted and oozed out. The tar dropped from the rigging, and none of us willingly touched any piece of metal for fear of burning our fingers. Merlin wisely kept in the shade, and the young ladies followed his example. I, however, being now stationed in the mizzen-top, had to go aloft. I could not help often wishing, as I looked down into the clear sea, that I might take a leap overboard, and dive down into the depths below.

Singapore—that wonderful emporium of the commerce of the East, established by the sagacious foresight of Sir Stamford Raffles—was now reached. It was the first time our anchor had been dropped since we quitted the Thames. The only land sighted till Sumatra and Java were seen, was the small island of Tristan da Cunha.

“You see, my boy, the result of a sound knowledge of navigation,” observed Mr Hooker to me. “But the captain has to thank the astronomers, and the inventors and the manufacturers of his instruments, or he could not have thus easily found his way half round the world, as he has done. You see we depend upon each other; and that is what I want to impress upon you. You may not have much scientific knowledge yourself, but if you have observation, you can accurately note the various phenomena you meet with, and give your descriptions to those who will make good use of them. I had contemplated leaving the ship at Singapore; but I have made up my mind to go with you to Japan, and then to return in her to one of the ports in these Eastern islands which Captain Davenport purposes visiting.”

I was very glad to hear of Mr Hooker’s determination, for I should have been very sorry to have lost his society.

The town and island of Singapore exhibit a variety of Eastern races and different religions and modes of life. The ruling class are of course English, but the Chinese are the most numerous, and among them are found many wealthy merchants, most of the mechanics and labourers, and also agriculturalists. The sea-faring population are mostly Malays. There are a good many Portuguese, who act as clerks and shop-keepers. There are also Arabs and Klings of Western India, who are Mohammedans. There are also Parsee merchants, while the grooms and washermen are mostly Bengalees. These, with numerous Javanese sailors, as well as traders from Celebes, Bali, and numerous other islands of the East, make up this curiously mixed population. Then in the harbour are found men-of-war, merchant vessels of numerous European nations, large numbers of Chinese junks and Malay praus, with hundreds of little fishing and passenger boats. Chinese josshouses, Indian temples, Mohammedan mosques, rise up on either side with Christian churches. The warehouses are substantial, the residences of the Europeans large and commodious, contrasting with the long rows of queer little Malay and Chinese cottages, among which are found Kling and Chinese bazaars, where everything can be bought, from a reel of cotton to a sword or razor. Numberless vendors of various articles throng the streets with water, fruit, vegetables, soup, and a sort of jolly made of sea-weed. Here a man comes running along with a pole, having a cooking apparatus on one end and a table on the other, from which he will immediately furnish a meal of shell-fish, vegetables, and rice at a small cost.

The island of Singapore is covered with a number of small hills, some nearly 400 feet high, covered to the summits with forest trees. In these forests the Chinese settlers are employed in cutting timber. Tigers are very numerous on the island, as they have but a short distance to cross over from the Malay peninsula, and frequently wood-cutters are carried away by them.

I accompanied Mr Hooker several times on shore. The naturalist was delighted with the great variety of beetles and other crawling creatures which he was able to collect. We were struck by the enormous size of the trees and the variety of large ferns, as well as the number of climbing ratan palms. One day we were walking along, Mr Hooker being in advance, when I saw him suddenly sink into the ground. I ran forward to help my friend, who fortunately having a long pole in his hand, kept hold of it.

“Quick, quick, Walter!” he shouted. “Help me out or I shall be impaled.”

Not without difficulty I got hold of his hand, and by main force dragged him up. When at length on firm ground, the naturalist, after resting a moment, pulled away a quantity of brushwood and disclosed a large pit. On looking into it we found that it was formed with the top narrower than the bottom, and in the centre was stuck a pointed stake. A person falling in, had he escaped impalement, would have found it impossible, unaided, to get out again.

“This is a tiger-pit,” exclaimed Mr Hooker; “and a very effectual way of catching a tiger should one attempt to cross it. I really believe that I have narrowly escaped a fearful death; for see, had I gone through, I should very probably have fallen on the stake.”

After this, as we proceeded, we carefully avoided the spots covered over by fallen brushwood, lest they should conceal pits of a similar description. Still Mr Hooker was too eager a naturalist to give up his search, and, aided by me, quickly filled his boxes and cases. Evening was coming on, and we were thinking of returning, sorry to leave the cool shade of the trees for the still hot, open ground, when we saw a creature at no great distance moving through the jungle.

“What can that be?” I exclaimed.

“A tiger, and it will be as well to put a bullet into my gun in case he should think fit to follow us. I am told that seldom a day passes that an unfortunate Chinaman is not carried away by one of these beasts. I am afraid they are too wary, like rats in England, to be caught in traps, or there would not be so many of them in the island.”

As we walked along I could not help looking over my shoulder every now and then in expectation of seeing the tiger. Mr Hooker, too, kept his gun ready for use in case we were pursued. We left the forest, however, and took our way over the open, dry ground without again catching sight of the tiger.

We got back to Singapore and returned on board that night, as the ship was to sail the following morning. Emily turned pale when she heard the account I gave her of the tiger, and all the party were greatly interested in hearing the account of Mr Hooker’s escape from the tiger-pit.

The ship’s course was now directly through the China Sea—a region in which every variety of weather is encountered, from a dead calm to a furious typhoon. The northern end of the Philippine Islands was sighted on the starboard hand, and afterwards the Bashee Islands to the north of them.

“There is a large island lies away there on our right hand, called Formosa,” said the captain. “The inhabitants are Chinese. They seem even more cruel and treacherous than the rest of their countrymen. Not long ago two vessels were wrecked, and their crews made prisoners. The natives marched them off to their capital, somewhere in the middle of the island, several days’ journey from the coast, and there they kept them prisoners for many months. Some were Englishmen, others Lascars, to the number of forty or fifty. The lives of a few were saved, but they cut off the heads of all the others, declaring they were those of barbarians killed in warfare; and it is said that the chief officers who commanded this massacre gained great credit, and many rewards for their bravery. The others were carried away to Nangking, and were there going to be killed; but the English expedition came out, and were just in time to save their lives.—I don’t like the Chinese,” continued the captain. “They are treacherous, conceited, inhospitable to strangers, grossly superstitious, heartless, and cruel, though perhaps they may not be said to be bloodthirsty. Their streets are dirty in the extreme, and their houses are not much better. However, it cannot be denied that they are very industrious and persevering, and that a Chinaman will make a living where a man of another nation will starve.”

Note. The English have now a settlement in Formosa.

“Perhaps, when we come to know them better, we may find exceptions to this description,” observed Mr Hooker. “Probably we shall discover noble and high-minded men, according to the light that is in them, in China as elsewhere. I do not know that all English towns are models of cleanliness; and certainly, if left to the care of the ordinary inhabitants, many would be found as bad as those in China.”

At length the high land of the south end of Japan hove in sight. As the ship stood on towards the harbour of Nagasaki, we were all eagerly looking out on the beautiful scenery which presented itself. In many parts the coast is bold, in other places it rises from the beach in gentle hills covered with apparently impenetrable forests. The narrow entrance to the harbour now appeared, between lofty overhanging hills covered with rich vegetation. As Captain Davenport had been there before, and the wind was fair, we stood boldly on till a pilot appeared, when sail was shortened to allow him to come on board. On either side, wherever the ground would allow it, the land seemed cultivated to the summit of the highest hills. Here and there, however, the muzzles of guns were seen protruding from amidst green shrubs and trees, ready to destroy any unwelcome intruder.

As the ship advanced the harbour widened out. On one side appeared the beautiful little island of Pappenberg, so named by the Dutch, though the Japanese call it Tacabooco. Its sides rise directly out of the water in lofty precipitous cliffs, their summits crowned with dark luxuriant cedars. It was to this island that a large number of the Japanese who had been converted to Christianity by the celebrated Roman Catholic missionary Xavier were carried when they refused to abjure the religion they had adopted. Conducted up to the summits of the cliffs, they were cast over the edge, bound hand and foot, at low water, meeting certain death as they reached the rocks below. Here the mangled remains lay till the tide coming in carried them off to sea. In late years many hundred Christians were treated in a similar manner in Madagascar. We looked with sad interest at the spot, having just before read an account of the massacre.

The ship continued her progress up the inlet or gulf, which is four miles long, till at length she came to an anchor off the town of Nagasaki. On either side were towering cliffs, precipitous peaks with green and shady groves below, amid which appeared prettily-painted picturesque cottages, not altogether unlike those of Switzerland. Many small bays were passed, in which were moored little boats, kept scrupulously clean, though unpainted. The sails consisted of three stripes of sailcloth or matting, united by a kind of lacework, thus forming one whole sail for light winds. By unlacing one portion, the sail can quickly be reduced in size. The boatmen, unlike the natives of the places lately visited, were almost as fair as Europeans. They wore, however, scarcely more clothing than their brethren in more southern regions. A Japanese boat is moved by a scull in the stern, with which she is steered when under sail—no oars being used: the passengers always sit in the fore part.

As soon as the ship dropped her anchor the Japanese officials came on board, one who spoke a little English acting as interpreter. They were dressed in long flowing robes confined at the waist by a band wound round the body, in which is suspended a case containing a pipe, a tobacco-pouch, an ink-horn, and a small brush used when they write. Over this is worn a transparent dark coat with a white mark on the arms and back. On grand occasions public officials wear a similar dress of a light fawn or dove tint. A person of the rank of a gentleman invariably wears two swords stuck in his girdle. On sitting down he removes the longest, and places it against some piece of furniture at his side; but he never parts with the smaller one, which is kept sharp, and in readiness to kill himself should any accusation of a crime, false or true, be brought against him. The questions put to the captain having been satisfactorily answered, we were informed that we might discharge our cargo. The officers were then invited down into the cabin to partake of cake and wine, which they seemed greatly to enjoy. They then, bowing politely, took their departure, leaving one of their number on board, who was to remain while the ship was anchored in the harbour.

Mr Hooker had a friend here, a merchant, who came on board to see him. Emily and I were introduced; and he invited us, and Grace also, to come and stay at his house with Mr Hooker, while the ship remained off the place. The residence of the merchant was situated on a platform on the side of a hill surrounded by trees, at a little distance from the town. The house had broad verandahs, every door sliding backwards and forwards in grooves, instead of opening and shutting in the ordinary fashion. In the garden were quantities of lovely flowers, and it had a pond in the centre. The pond was full of wonderfully large gold and silver fish, which were always ready to exhibit their lovely tints when bits of bread were thrown in to them. The girls especially were delighted with the beauty of the wild flowers in the surrounding woods, many of them such as would be valued in a garden in England. Surpassing all others, however, were the camelia trees, some fully thirty feet high, their lovely flowers shining out amid their dark-green foliage. We were told that the camelia is so called in honour of a Spanish Jesuit—Camel—who brought it to Europe, where it is known as the Camelia japonica. From one kind, the oleifera, a large amount of oil is extracted, used in Japan for domestic purposes. The beautiful lotus also is common; the Japanese using the root when young for food. When thoroughly boiled, it is very palatable. Mr Hooker was well pleased with the cleanliness of the streets; so superior in that respect to those of China. They are nearly all paved in the centre, which is slightly raised, and have drains running down close to the houses on either side. Thus all impurities are carried away, and they soon become dry, even after the heaviest shower of rain. Large plantations of tea exist in the neighbourhood, the leaf being prepared in the Chinese fashion. The trade in this article alone has greatly increased since the ports of the country have been opened. I give a drawing of a Chinese tea-plantation, which is very similar to those we saw in Japan. The house seen in the sketch is the drying-house. The tea-plant is produced from seed which is dropped into holes, several together, four inches deep and four feet apart, in December. When the rain comes on, the plants spring up and form bushes. In about three years they yield their first crop of leaves. In about eight years they are cut down, that fresh shoots may spring up. The leaves are gathered singly with great care—in three gatherings: the first, when they just open; the last, when fully expanded. When gathered, they are first partially dried in the sun, and then placed on flat iron pans above furnaces in the drying-house. They require frequent shifting and turning. When sufficiently dried, they are removed with a shovel on to a mat or basket to cool, and then to a table to be rolled. This process is repeated, and they are then sifted and sorted. As far as we could learn, both black and green teas are the produce of the same plant, but prepared in a somewhat different way.

I was, of course, very eager to learn all I could about the country; but there seemed so much to learn, and so little time to learn it in, that I was frequently almost in despair. The Japanese, although idolaters, and very unlike Europeans, are evidently a very civilised people. They have had for centuries their manners and customs unchanged, and their ideas are peculiar, according to our notions. Soon after we arrived, our new friend had to pay a visit to the Governor of Nagasaki. The heat was great; but Mr Hooker begged that we might belong to the party. The Japanese, like wise people, except in cases of necessity, do not leave their cool houses during the heat of the day. The town appeared therefore almost deserted. The main street is broad and clean, the inhabitants being generally government officials and retainers of the chiefs, called Daimios. At about every hundred yards there is a barrier gate. These gates are closed every evening, when a light is suspended from the beam above, or a paper lantern is hung from one of the side posts.

As China and Japan had become civilised long before the mode of constructing an arch was discovered, and the inhabitants of neither are addicted to change, they still retain their original style of building bridges; and I give a sketch of one we crossed on our way. It is similar to those generally found in the country. Some of their gateways are very curious; and though they make their bridges with vast slabs of stone or long wooden rafters, they take the trouble of hewing out of the rock huge circles, or segments of circles, which are afterwards put together to form ornamental gateways to their pleasure-grounds.

At length our party arrived before a handsome flight of steps, with two magnificent camphor-trees on either side. The gate at the top being thrown open, we all entered the unpretending yet clean abode of the governor. A few inferior officers were sitting or standing about in the vestibule. They saluted us with a careless air, and one of them then announced our arrival, when the vice-governor, or one of the principal officers, came forward, and shaking hands, led us into another room. Here the governor himself was seated. After the proper number of bows had been made and returned, he requested to know the object of our visit. While the merchant was explaining this we had time to look about the room. All round it, with the exception of one side, which opened on the garden, were suspended screens of white grass-cloth, with a design which looked like a trefoil worked on them. Over it we caught sight of several sparkling pairs of eyes—the sex of the owners could not be doubted. In the garden was a pond in which water-lilies and other aquatic plants grew, with the usual ornaments of temples and bridges, artificial rocks being scattered about, and a considerable amount of invention displayed in the arrangement. While speaking of flowers, I must not forget the magnificent lily of Japan, which, in point of size, must be similar I should think to those of Palestine pointed out by our Lord when he said, “Consider the lilies of the field.” But to return to our visit.

After the official interview was over, tea, pipes, and cake were served, with a variety of other dishes. The great man’s wife having expressed a desire to see the strangers, we were introduced to her. She was a very handsome person; her hair, jet-black, ornamented with amber and tortoise-shell combs, with a large quantity of hair on the top mixed with flowers and ribbons. Her costume was magnificent—sky-blue crape, embroidered with gold and silver, and a profusion of flowers. It was lined with a bright scarlet silk wadding, which formed a train on the ground. Only a part, however, was visible, as the silken belt round the waist allowed it only very slightly to open. She wore a very broad sash, also of black silk, tied behind in an immense knot. The sleeves of her dress reached only to the elbow. She had no other ornaments; and her feet were encased in white cotton socks. Alas! however, her skin was completely covered with rice-powder, damped, so that it might the better adhere. Her eyebrows were shaven, as those of all married ladies are. Her lips were dyed of a bright red colour, and her teeth were black and polished as ebony. Yet we could judge of what she would have been by her exquisitely-chiselled nose, and black expressive eyes. We saw also several of her children, the younger ones dressed in crape of various colours, the others dressed much as their mother; but their teeth were beautifully white, their eyebrows unshorn; and very pretty little creatures they were. We remained for another repast, which commenced by the servants bringing in, and placing before each person on the table, which was eighteen inches high, a handsome gold and black lacquered cup and saucer, with a pair of chop-sticks. Some very nice chicken soup, with vegetables, were in the cup. After this came a similar bowl, containing venison, duck, and sweet jelly, all mixed up together. We found it very difficult eating with the chop-sticks, and Emily and Grace could not help looking up every now and then and laughing at each other as they made the attempt. We managed better with some harder things, such as fish. The last dish contained boiled chestnuts, peeled. This was placed in the centre of the table, so that each person could help himself.

The lady afterwards came to pay a return visit to our friend’s wife. She and her elder children arrived each in a norimon. This is a sort of litter slung to a bamboo pole, each end of which is carried on a man’s shoulder. A cushion is placed at the bottom, so as to come up at one end for the back, at the other for the knees; and the person sits crouched up in rather an awkward position. There is a flat covering, on which the lady’s slippers, fan, smoking apparatus, and other articles are carried. The bearers have each a pole, on which they can rest the norimon.

The ladies, I should say, are great smokers, though their pipes are small and their tobacco of a delicate description.

I need not describe the entertainment our friends gave their guests, as it was similar in many respects to that of the Japanese, though with certain English dishes. Each of their attendants, when they set out on their return, lighted a paper lantern, which is universally carried after dusk in all the towns of Japan.

The Japanese appear to be very fond of their children, and very indulgent. In our excursions we often stopped and looked into the cottages, which were invariably neat and clean in the extreme. I remember one day hearing youthful voices, and looking in, we saw a couple of children seated by the side of their father on a cushion on the floor. One of them apparently was ill, and the other was pouring out some physic from a bottle into a bowl to give to it. The expression on their countenances amused us. The little invalid was turning away his head, unwilling to take the potion; while the other seemed to be entreating that he might not have too much of it. It was a family picture, however, which gave us a very fair idea of the terms on which parents and their children exist.

Generally speaking, the women of Japan are as fair as many Europeans, and were it not for their peculiar sandals, which give them an awkward manner in walking, they would be graceful. Their hair is bound up into thick masses at the back of the head, through which a number of gold and silver or ivory arrows are placed, much in the manner of the peasant girls in some parts of Germany. The unmarried women have good eyebrows and beautiful teeth; but when they marry they blacken their teeth and shave off their eyebrows, to show their affection for their husbands, and that they no longer wish to win the admiration of others. The men have a curious way of saluting each other, passing their hands down the knee and leg, when they give a strong inhalation indicative of pleasure; and it is curious to hear these whistling sounds going on while people are paying each other compliments. When women of the same rank meet, they bend nearly double, and remain in the same position some time in conversation, occasionally giving a bob for every compliment that is paid. When they get up to go away, the same bobbing and bowing goes on for some time. When an inferior meets a superior, the former makes a low bow till the fingers almost touch the ground. Both sexes, both at home and abroad, go with the head uncovered, and to protect them from the sun they use large fans or paper umbrellas. The military, however, wear hats.

The Japanese are fond of field-sports, and the nobles go out shooting on their estates much in the same way that gentlemen in England do on theirs. They, as do the Chinese, also hunt game with hawks and falcons. The birds are trained much as they were in England in former days, when the gentle craft, as it was called, was fashionable among the nobles and gentry of the land. The accompanying drawing, which was given to me to put into my journal, gives a good idea of the Chinese way of hunting with the falcon.

The houses we visited were very curious. They are chiefly of unpainted wood; even the outsides are formed of sliding panels. There is generally an inside lining at a distance of about six feet or so, the space forming a sort of balcony. All the rooms are formed in the same way, with sliding panels. The windows are composed of oiled paper, fastened to neat frames with a glue which water cannot melt. The panels which divide the chambers are ornamented with paintings of various animals—tortoises, cranes, butterflies, and wonderfully unreal monsters. Mats, about half an inch thick, cover the floors. In the centre is a square place for a wood fire, when a brazero is not used. No chairs or tables are employed in ordinary houses, as the inhabitants sit on the mats round their trays at dinner or when drinking tea; and at night, mattresses are spread on the floor, covered with cotton, crape, or silk. The day garment is then thrown off, and a wadded dressing-gown put on for the night. The Japanese pillow is a little lacquered box with drawers in it, in which the ladies keep various small articles for their toilet—paper, hair-arrows, pins, etcetera. In the top of this curious box is a concavity with a little cushion wrapped in clean paper, and on this the back of the head is rested. Thus their head-dresses are not tumbled at night. The inhabitants of the Fiji Islands use a similar pillow for the same object of preventing their elaborately-dressed hair from being disarranged. The Japanese, however, only sleep for a short period at a time, as they have the custom of having trays with sweetmeats by their bed-sides, which they eat occasionally; or they take a few whiffs from their pipes, their tobacco-boxes, with live embers, and other necessaries for smoking, being always at hand.

They are very cleanly in their habits, bathing-houses being everywhere found; but it struck us as very odd to see men, women, and children bathing together. Sometimes as we passed a house we saw the master or mistress seated in a tub, up to the neck in water. The men, except when they wear gala costume, are very simply dressed: their sandals are of straw, and they use a plain fan of white paper and bamboo. They, however, possess fine dresses, which are kept in their richly-ornamented lacquered chests. They live chiefly on fish and rice, with various vegetables, vermicelli, eggs, sea-weed, while cakes and sweetmeats vary their diet. Tea, sugar-water, saki, are their chief beverages.

Their paper is one of the most interesting articles which they manufacture. Some, of a thick sort, is made of bamboo and oil. This is used for umbrellas, and water-proof coats, coverings for palanquins and boxes, etcetera. The finer sort is made from the bark of the mulberry-tree—the Morus papyfira—such as is used in Tahiti and other South Sea islands. It is employed instead of a pocket-handkerchief for blowing the nose, wiping the fingers, and wrapping up articles. Every person has a long sleeve pocket filled with it. Printing is very general, and all sorts of works are produced. Books are printed from wooden blocks on a particularly fine silken paper, on one side only, the blank sides being gummed together. The lacquer work is very fine. They also manufacture silks, and crapes, and linen, and cotton cloth, which, though coarse, is very soft. Many fruits of temperate and tropical climes are grown. The lacquer-tree—the Rhus vernix—which is used in the well-known lacquer work, is a handsome tree. The leaf is something like that of the beech, but broader. The lacquer is drawn from its milky sap and mixed with the oil of the bignonia. The camphor-tree—the Laurus camphora—is another very fine tree, with red and black berries. The camphor comes from it in white fragrant drops, which, when they harden, require but slight purifying to give them the appearance which the camphor we see in England presents. Everywhere we met with the tea-tree or tea-plant. It is as common in Japan as our privet or hawthorn. Japanese money is very thin. Some of the coins are oblong, some square, and others round. The chief circulating coins are of copper or iron. The workmen are very skilful: they manufacture cutlery and sword-blades to perfection. They show great skill also in gold and silver work. Their mirrors are of bronze, the reflecting surface being of silver, and polished, the back and handle ornamented with various devices. Everything, indeed, that a Japanese artisan produces, exhibits a neatness and elegance which speaks well for the taste of the people.

We had a great deal of fine scenery in the excursions we made. There are dense forests, and lofty mountains covered almost to their summits with trees. No country has ever been subject to a more absolute despotism than that which exists in Japan. There are two emperors—the Mikado, who is the religious chief of the empire, the head of the Sintoo religion; and the Tykoon, or Siokoon, who is the temporal emperor, and the real source of all political power. His residence is at Yedo. He has under him various great princes or chiefs, many of whom are very powerful. Then there are noblemen of different ranks, who are chiefly employed as officers under the crown, or governors of imperial domains. Next to them are the Sintoo and Buddhist priests, the latter of whom are under a vow of celibacy. The soldiers come after the priests in rank. Their dress is very similar to that of civilians, but they wear the embroidered badge of their respective chiefs. The fifth class consist of medical men and literati, as also inferior government officers. They are allowed, however, to wear swords and trousers. Below them again are the merchants, who are despised by the superior ranks, and are never allowed to wear swords. Mechanics rank the seventh class, and the eighth and last is composed of farmers, serfs, and the servants or feudal retainers.

I might mention many more things concerning Japan, but I should occupy too much space, and I am anxious to give an account of the adventures we ultimately encountered. We had enjoyed our visit so much to this strange and beautiful country, that we were sorry when the time came for quitting it, though we were about to visit still stranger and less known regions. Bidding our kind friends farewell, we returned on board the Bussorah Merchant. The next morning, having gone through the usual formalities, we sailed down the magnificent harbour of Nagasaki and steered a course for the Philippine Islands. Nothing of importance occurred during this part of our voyage.

The next port we touched at was Manilla, the capital of the Philippine Islands, which belong to Spain. On approaching the anchorage we passed the naval arsenal of Caveti, situated in the bay about nine miles south of the capital. Having come to an anchor, Mr Hooker invited us to accompany him on a visit to Caveti. It cannot boast much of its present glory, but it contained a curiosity—a Spanish galleon—probably one of the last in existence, then rotting in the basin. We gazed with interest at the high, ornamented, carved stern with its great lanterns, its bow adorned in the same manner with carved work. We wondered how such cumbersome-looking craft could get through with safety the long voyages they performed. Returning to the ship in the cool of the evening, we rowed up to Manilla, which is well situated at the mouth of the river Pasig. This river runs down from a number of lakes, one beyond another, the nearest of which is about three leagues eastward of the city. We spent that night on shore at a hotel, and the following day accompanied Mr Hooker on an expedition to the lakes. We engaged a curious canoe paddled by Indians, who sat in the bow and stern, while we occupied the centre. Part of this was covered over with mats, supported on arched bamboos, which sheltered us at night from the dews, and in the day-time from the sun. On either side of the river were the country houses and gardens of the inhabitants. The river was very muddy and the scenery not particularly interesting, so that we began to be somewhat disappointed. It was growing dark when we approached the entrance to the lakes. Sleep then overcame us, but our canoe-men continued paddling on at a slow pace during the night.

When we awoke in the morning we found ourselves in a scene so totally different that it seemed almost like enchantment. The mountains came sloping down from the sky to the very water’s edge, while numberless picturesque Indian villages, built of the very useful bamboo, lined the shores. Earthquakes prevailing in this region, has prevented the people erecting any lofty edifices, while a bamboo hut will stand any amount of shaking without being brought to the ground. By a hurricane, however, they are easily overthrown. Over the wide expanse of water, which was blue and clear like that of the ocean, fish of various sorts were rising to the surface, as if to look out for the appearance of the glorious sun over the mountain tops. As we pulled on, passing lofty headlands, or winding our way amid groups of islands, fresh expanses of the lake opened out before us. On the level spots, cornfields waved with grain, surrounded by cocoa-nut trees, affording shelter from the noonday sun. Numerous canoes were passing, with their white sails shining brightly over the blue expanse.

We landed at the head of the lake, into which other rivers ran, opening up a communication with the far-off parts of the island. Advancing, we passed through some shady lanes, bordered by hedges of bamboo, the graceful tops of which bent inwards, forming a complete arch overhead. In a little time we reached a neat village, the houses, with thatched roofs, looking clean and well-built. All, however, we learned, “is not gold that glitters.” We were advised not to proceed much further, as a body of banditti were said to be lurking in the neighbourhood, composed of deserters from the army and native Indians, and they would have considered us a rich prize. Probably they would have murdered us for the money we had about our persons, or for our clothes; or they might have adopted the more civilised plan, followed in Greece and Italy, of demanding a ransom.

“Oh, but they would not dare to attack Englishmen!” observed Emily.

“I am not so sure of that, young lady,” answered Mr Hooker. “They would probably make very little distinction between Englishmen and Spaniards, except, perhaps, that they might demand a higher ransom; and though it might be very romantic to be carried off among those mountains, and kept there till Captain Davenport could pay the required sum, I am afraid that none of us would find it very pleasant. However, as ‘discretion is the best part of valour,’ we will keep near our canoe, and make the best of our way, with the favourable breeze now blowing, back to the City of Cheroots.”

As we afterwards glided over the calm water, we saw some huge objects resting on a sand-bank. They looked like logs of wood; but as we came near, one of them began to move, and presently a huge pair of jaws were opened, as if the monster—for it was an alligator—was taking a yawn after his siesta.

The principal inhabitants of the capital are Spaniards or their descendants. The officers of the army are also Europeans. The rank and file, amounting to about eight thousand men, are natives. The aboriginal inhabitants are called Tagals. They are somewhat idle, though a good-natured, pleasure-loving race; are nominally Roman Catholics, but very superstitious and insincere. Their houses are formed of bamboo raised on piles, the interior covered by mats, on which the whole family sleep, with a mosquito curtain over them. The ornaments in their houses are generally a figure of the Virgin Mary, a crucifix, and their favourite game-cock. The men wear a pair of trousers of cotton or grass-cloth, with a shirt worn outside them, generally of striped silk or cotton, embroidered at the bosom. Cock-fighting is their chief amusement, as it is, indeed, among most of the people in all parts of the archipelago. It is a brutal sport, if sport it can be called. These people seem to treat their birds better than they do their wives; and so great is their passion for this abominable proceeding, that they will cheat and pilfer and commit all sorts of crimes in order to indulge it.

We visited a manufactory of cheroots, for which Manilla is celebrated. We were told that four thousand women, and half that number of men, were employed in this manufactory alone, while in the neighbourhood as many as nine thousand women and seven thousand men find employment in producing cigars. This will give you some idea of the immense amount of tobacco consumed in various parts of the world, as, of course, only a comparatively small quantity comes from Manilla. As we entered the building, our ears were almost deafened by the noise made by some hundreds of women seated on the floor, and hammering the tobacco leaves on a block with a mallet, to polish them for the outside leaf of cigars. In other rooms they were employed in rolling them up into the proper shape. Tobacco is a strict monopoly, and great care is taken, when the harvest is being gathered, to prevent any being carried off by the people. The leaves, when picked, are first placed undercover in heaps to ferment, then sorted into five classes, according to their size, and suspended in a current of air to dry. From the plantations it is sent under an escort to the factories round Manilla. It is there wet with water, or sometimes rum and vinegar, and made up as we first saw it, into rough cigars, and afterwards rolled into a more perfect form, and finished by another set of women. The refuse is made into cigarettes. Nearly the whole population—men, women, and children—smoke.

We saw the sugar-cane growing. Coffee also is almost wild, and large quantities of rice are exported to China. The cocoa-palm and the bamboo, as well as cacao, beans, indigo, silk, and cotton are produced. We were shown a species of banana, called abaca, the finer filaments of which, mixed with silk, are manufactured into native cloth. A rougher sort, called Manilla hemp, is made into rope, which, with the raw material, is largely exported. The most curious manufacture we saw, however, was that from the pine-apple leaf, which produces a fibre so fine and light, that the weaving operation must be carried on under water, as the least current of air will break it. The Tagal girls work it into handkerchiefs, which they richly embroider. These are greatly valued. A more substantial manufacture is produced from the thicker fibres, for dress pieces, which are also considered of great value. We saw also some beautiful mats made from strips of bamboo, and leaves of various trees, used for boat-sails, beds, or carpets. The hats and cigar-cases of Manilla are also of a beautiful style of manufacture.

Although I might have written a more interesting account of the country, I prefer giving this brief extract from my journal, that I may have more space to narrate the numerous adventures through which we afterwards passed.

Chapter Eight.

Cross the Sea of Celebes.

Once more we were free of islands, crossing the wide Celebes Sea. After the bracing climate of Japan, we felt the heat considerably. We had done so even when there was a breeze; it now fell calm. I scarcely before knew what a real calm at sea was. The ocean was literally as smooth as a sheet of glass—not the slightest swell was perceptible—not the faintest cat’s-paw played over the water. Some chips thrown overboard floated exactly where they had fallen; and hour after hour, as I looked over the side, there they were. Even a light vane of feathers fastened in the mizzen-rigging hung down. The smoke from the galley fire curled up in a thin blue wreath towards the sky, gradually growing thinner and thinner, but still visible to a great height. Far as the eye could reach, in the circle in the centre of which we floated, there was the same shining, unbroken surface; except when here and there some flying-fish leaped out of the translucent sea, or the fin of some monster of the deep appeared as he swam near the surface.

It was hot below—hotter even than on deck, where at all events we had the advantage of the open air. The smell of the cooking going forward in the caboose pervaded the ship; and we could easily guess how it would be under such circumstances when a fever breaks out on board—how impossible it must be to get rid of the infected atmosphere, unless perhaps by powerful and general fumigation. The seams in the deck began to splutter and hiss, and the pitch stuck to our feet as we walked about; while any piece of iron we touched seemed almost as hot as if it had been put in a furnace. We had a good supply of water on board; but it seemed, at the rate we drank it, we should soon consume our stock if this sort of weather continued.

The only person who seemed to enjoy himself thoroughly was Potto Jumbo. He smiled complacently as he looked about him when he came out of his sooty den, the hot sun striking down on his uncovered woolly pate, without having power to injure him. The Lascars appeared to suffer even more than the Englishmen from the heat. Merlin, wise dog, kept in the shade; but when he had to change his position, he went about with his mouth open, his tongue hanging out. A tub of water was placed for him in a shady spot, where he could go to quench his thirst as he might fancy—a wise arrangement for him, poor dog, and he did not fail to take advantage of it. He was not like some human beings, who turn up their noses when their friends take trouble to arrange matters for their convenience.

The English seamen went listlessly about the decks, clothed only in shirt and duck trousers. Though the human beings on board were oppressed with the beat, their caricatures and imitators, the monkeys, seemed thoroughly to enjoy themselves. Perhaps they were aware that nobody would take the trouble to go after them; so they had the rigging to themselves, and were now climbing and leaping about every part of it, now and then descending to the end of a rope to try to carry off a seaman’s hat, swinging themselves close to his head. Now two or three of them would make their way aft, and come and look down at Mr Hooker, whom most of them seemed to recognise as their master and owner. Their great pleasure, however, appeared to be to try and teaze Merlin. The old fellow, whenever they approached, opened his eyes and watched them with looks of astonishment, in no way offended at the tricks they tried to play him. Now one would come down and endeavour to catch hold of his tail; a second would jump down on his back, but would be off again before he had time almost to turn his head. Had he chosen, I am sure he could have caught one or two of the most daring, and would soon with his powerful jaws have made an end of them; but he disdained to take offence at their puny efforts to annoy him, and continued to treat them with the greatest good humour.

The Lascars were below, or asleep in the shade under the topgallant-forecastle. I made my way to the caboose, where Potto Jumbo was singing merrily, though the heat was sufficient to cook the dinner, one would suppose, without the aid of the fire. Macco had been appointed to attend on him as cook’s mate. The arrangement appeared to please both parties, for Potto was always good-natured, and Macco obedient, and apparently anxious to learn his duties.

“Dere, Macco, you go get bucket of water, and scrape dem ’tatoes, and wash dem well,” he said, pointing to the shady side of the ship, or rather what was then the shady side, for as she was continually moving round, that was as often shifting; indeed, so directly almost over our heads was the sun, that there was very little shade at all. “I want to tell you someting, Massa Walter,” said Potto; “so I send dat black fellow away.” (Macco was many shades lighter than the cook; still he always persisted in calling him “dat black fellow.”) “I wish de captain had put Ali and his people on shore at Singapore. Dey again plot mischief. I hear dem talky, talky, when dey no tink I listen, just as before. What dey intend to do I do not ’xactly know; but it is mischief, I know dat. Dey no set de ship on fire again; but perhaps dey try to cast her away, or to scuttle her, or some oder ting. Massa Walter, dare are many pirate ships out in dese parts; and de last place we touch at, I know Ali talky wid some black fellows, and me tink he told dem to follow de ship, and dat he will help to let dem come on board and take her.”

“But why did you not tell Mr Thudicumb or the captain this?” I said.

“Dey tink I fond of finding mares’ nests,” he answered. “De captain believe Ali when he say before dat he took boat to help ladies; and he no believe dat he set de ship on fire,” was the black’s answer.

“Well, Potto, I will tell Mr Thudicumb what you say, as before, and I am very sure he will attend to your advice. I think the captain believed you before more than you supposed; though, had he been persuaded that Ali had set fire to the ship, he would decidedly have got him and those who assisted him punished. He has been somewhat over-lenient, however; there can be little doubt about that.”

“De captain good man, no doubt about dat; too good for dis world, and for manage such rascal as Ali Tomba and his people.”

“Well, Potto,” said I, “I believe you, at all events; but if you have nothing more to say, I must try to find a cooler spot than this. I am almost roasted, and feel that I could not stand it many minutes longer.”

“No; I have told all I know,” said Potto. “But you just say to Mr Thudicumb, he be wise man, and keep his weather eye open.”

As I began to move off, Potto shouted out,—“Come here, Macco, you black rascal; be quick wid dem ’tatoes.” They were the sweet potato roots of which he spoke, by the by.

On going aft, I told Mr Thudicumb what I had heard. He thought for a few minutes.

“I suspect, Walter,” he observed, “the black is right. However, twelve men, let them be ever so cunning, cannot do us much harm, unless they again attempt to set the ship on fire. I never doubted that Ali had a hand in that before, though the captain would not believe it. At all events, if I had had my way, I should have got rid of him and his crew at the first opportunity.”

Soon after this the mate was engaged in conversation with the captain. I saw that my kind friend looked somewhat annoyed. He had made up his mind that Ali was honest, and that Potto Jumbo was fanciful, and I suspect did not like to be compelled to alter his opinion. He soon afterwards called me up, and cross-questioned me on the subject. He had a good deal to make him anxious. The navigation of the seas through which we were sailing is as difficult as that of any part of the world. Pirates also swarmed in all directions; and though they might not venture to attack so large a ship as ours while we were under sail, they might perhaps, should they find her at anchor, and be able to get round us in sufficient force to give them a prospect of success. There were also considerable difficulties in carrying on the trade in the places we were to visit, as both the Spaniards and Dutch were sure to throw every impediment in our way, their policy being to monopolise as far as they could the whole of the trade of these regions. Several times the captain went into his cabin to examine the barometer.

“Thudicumb,” he said, when he came out, “the glass is falling slowly and regularly. Depend upon it, this calm is not going to last. We will shorten sail at once. There is no use in having all this canvas hanging from the yards; and when the breeze does come, it will come quick and sharp. It may be only an ordinary gale, but I rather think it will be something considerably heavier.”

Mr Thudicumb immediately issued the order to the watch on deck to shorten sail. Some of the men looked about them with an astonished glance; but, accustomed to obey orders, they asked no questions, and the ship was soon under her three topsails, closely reefed, and jib.

“Whatever comes now, we shall be ready for it,” observed the captain.

Still the calm continued, and the heat, if anything, was greater than ever. The ladies were sitting on deck, keeping as cool as they could under their sun-shades, when Mr Hooker returned from below, and spread a map out before them.

“Here, Walter,” he said, turning to me, as I was standing near him, “it being my watch on deck, I am going to give a lecture; you may as well come and benefit by it. Here is a chart of the seas through which we are sailing. See bow vast is this Malayan Archipelago! Putting out Australia, it covers an area far larger than the whole of Europe; indeed, from east to west it is fully 4000 miles in length, and 3200 miles from north to south. Look at Borneo: the whole of the British Isles might be put down inside it, and yet leave a wide extent of country on every side. New Guinea is even larger; and Sumatra is fully equal to Great Britain. Then we have Java, Luzon, and Celebes, each as large as Ireland. I think we could pick out eighteen or more the size of Jamaica; and a hundred, of which none are smaller and many considerably larger than the Isle of Wight. Now, some people hold to the opinion that all these islands were at one time joined to the continent of Asia. I, however, believe that though a portion of them were, that the eastern part was united to Australia, and appeared above the surface of the water at a later period, forming a vast Pacific continent. We have thus three regions—Borneo, Java, and Sumatra—that have only a shallow sea separating them from each other and from Asia. Between Borneo and Celebes there is, however, a deep sea; as there is between Celebes and numerous islands to the east and south of it, including Sumbowa, Flores, Timor, Gilolo, Seram, Bouro, and many others of smaller size. New Guinea, again, with the Aru Islands, are separated from Australia by a very shallow sea; and it is remarkable that the animals found in these three regions differ considerably from each other. Many of those found in Australia and New Guinea are different from those found in Celebes, and the other islands surrounded by deep water. They, again, differ from the animals found in Borneo, Java, and Sumatra, which are mostly identical with those of Asia.

“A striking contrast will also be found in the scenery of the islands of volcanic and non-volcanic origin. A volcanic belt passes from the north, through the Philippine Islands, down to the north end of Celebes. There is then a break; and again it commences in the island of Gilolo, passing through Borneo, Seram, and Banda, down to Timor; then through Flores, sweeping round to Java, where there is an immense number of volcanoes. The island of Java contains more volcanoes, active and quiescent, than any other known district of equal extent. There exist forty-five at least, averaging 10,000 feet in height. Volcanoes, you must understand, have been raised up by the accumulation of matter ejected by themselves, consisting of mud, ashes, and lava. Frequently, although a mountain has been thrown up by volcanic action, no opening appears, though probably one will be found in the neighbourhood. Thus Java is entirely volcanic. In most instances volcanoes are found near the sea, when the materials of the mighty mound have been drawn from the surrounding surface, and into the hollow below formed by their abstraction the water has rushed: thus, although the sea might not have been there previously, a strait or gulf has been produced. At the very centre of the great curve of volcanoes I have described, is found the large island of Borneo; and yet there no sign of recent volcanic action has been observed, while earthquakes are entirely unknown. In New Guinea, also, no sign of volcanic action is known to exist: except at the east end of Celebes, the whole island is free from volcanoes. In my opinion, this volcanic action did not commence till a comparatively late period, so that it has not succeeded in obliterating altogether the traces of a more ancient distribution of land and water.

“I must now give you a short description of the contrasts in the vegetation of this interesting region. We shall find a great portion of the islands clothed with a rich forest vegetation almost to the summit of their highest mountains. This is the rule with regard to all the islands on the west. When we reach Timor, however, we find the eucalypti, and other trees characteristic of Australia. In Timor they seldom reach any great height, being dried up by the hot wind which, lasting for nearly two-thirds of the year, blows from the northern parts of that vast island. In New Guinea, the trade-winds blow from the Pacific. New Guinea, however, is freer from their influence, and is therefore covered by a rich and damp vegetation, the forest trees growing to a great height and size.

“By examining the zoology of these countries, we find evidence that the islands we have been speaking about must at one time have formed a part either of Asia or of a vast southern continent which embraced New Guinea and Australia. In Borneo we find the elephant and tapir; and in Sumatra both these animals, as well as the rhinoceros, and the wild cattle which are known to inhabit some part or other of Southern Asia: showing that at one time there must have been land communication with that continent, as those animals could not possibly have swam over the straits which now separate them. A large number of the smaller mammals are common to each island as well as to the continent. Birds and insects also found on the islands exist on the Asiatic continent. It might be supposed that birds would easily pass over narrow arms of the sea; but this is not so. With the exception of the aquatic tribes, what are called the perching birds will never cross the sea; and thus it is certain that they, as well as animals, must have existed on those islands before they were separated from the continent. The Philippine Islands possess many of the birds which are found in Asia; but at the same time there are other indications which show that they must have been separated from the continent at an earlier period than the other islands to the west.

“Now I wish you to observe that the numerous islands to the east of Celebes and Lombok have a strong resemblance to Australia and New Guinea, as much indeed as the western islands have to Asia. Australia is a very remarkable country. It is, indeed, in several respects, unlike any other part of the world. It possesses no tigers or wolves or bears or hyenas; no elephants, squirrels, or rabbits; nor, indeed, any mammals, except such as have been introduced almost within the memory of man, such as horses, sheep, or oxen. It has, however, what are called marsupials: kangaroos, opossums, wombats, and the duck-billed platypus. Instead also of the various birds which exist in other parts of the world, it has the mound-making brush-turkeys, the cockatoos, and the brush-tongued lories, as well as honey-suckers, to be found in no other part of the world. These peculiarities are discovered in the other islands I have mentioned, forming the Austro-Malayan division of the archipelago. Looking down to the south-east of Java, we shall find the small island of Bali. It is divided from the east part of the island of Lombok by a narrow strait, where the water is very deep, showing, as I have said, that the separation must have taken place at an early period of the world’s existence. Now in Bali we find woodpeckers, fruit-thrushes, barbets, and other Asiatic birds. Crossing this narrow strait to Lombok, the birds I have mentioned are no longer to be found; but instead of them there are brush-turkeys, cockatoos, honey-suckers, and other Australian birds. These birds again are not to be found in Java or any region to the west. Crossing from Borneo to Celebes, there is a very great difference in the animals. In Borneo, a vast number of various species of monkeys exist, as well as wild cats, deer, otters, civets, and squirrels. In Celebes, wild pigs are found, and scarcely any other terrestrial mammal, besides the prehensile-tailed cuscus.

“Thus, when we pass from the western to the eastern islands, we feel ourselves almost in a new region, so greatly do the four-footed and feathered tribes we find in the one differ from those we have left in the other. The Aru Islands and others in the neighbourhood agree in many respects with New Guinea, from which vast island a shallow sea alone separates them. Possessing this knowledge, a naturalist would soon be able to learn whether he had landed on one of the islands of the Asiatic or Australian portion of the archipelago, judging alone by the animals he might discover.”

Mr Hooker’s lecture, of which I have only given a brief outline, was suddenly interrupted by the voice of the captain shouting, “Up with the helm!—square away the yards!” I flew to my station. Looking astern, there appeared a long line of white foam, rushing forward over the hitherto calm surface of the ocean at a rapid rate, while clouds came rising out of the horizon, and chasing each other across the blue sky, over which a thick veil of mist seemed suddenly to have been drawn. In a few seconds a fierce blast struck the ship, making her heel over to starboard in a way which seemed as if it was about to take the masts out of her. Mrs Davenport clung to the cabin skylight, on which she was sitting. It was with difficulty we could save Emily and Grace from being carried away to leeward; indeed, they both cried out with terror, so suddenly had the gale broken on us.

Down, down the tall ship lay. It seemed as if she would never rise. The watch below rushed up on deck, looks of dismay on the countenances of many. The captain shouted to Mr Thudicumb, “Get the axes ready!” and pointed significantly to the mizzen-mast. The first officer repeated the order; and Mr Tarbox was seen coming along, axe in hand, followed by the carpenter and several of his crew. There was no time to be lost, it seemed. I could not help dreading lest another similar blast should send the ship over, and the sea, rushing up her decks, carry her to the bottom. The rudder had lost its power, being nearly out of the water, so that no means but the desperate one to which we were about to have recourse remained for getting the ship before the wind. The risk of those on deck being injured by the falling of the mast was very great. I made my way up to where my sister, with Mrs Davenport and Grace, were clinging to the cabin skylight, in order to conduct them below. The captain shouted to Mr Hooker, and signed to him to assist me. Unless, however, I had been aided by the second mate, I could scarcely have done so.

As soon as I had seen them into the cabin, I sprang again on deck. The sharp sound of the axe as it struck the mizzen-mast was heard at that moment. The shrouds on either side were cut, and over the mast fell into the foaming water. Still the ship lay as before. “It must be done, Thudicumb!” the captain cried, and this time the mate himself approached the mast, and stood with gleaming axe uplifted, ready to strike. The hurricane howled round us. Every instant the seas increased in height and fury, the spoon-drift from their summits driving in showers over our deck. The sea came rushing up every instant higher and higher over the lee bulwarks, up almost to the hatchways. The captain gave another glance to windward. Still the rudder did not act. “Cut!” he shouted, his voice sounding high above the roar of the blast. Mr Thudicumb’s glancing axe descended, while at the same moment the boatswain cut the weather shrouds; and as the mast fell over, several brave fellows sprang to leeward to divide those on the lee side. Still the ship lay helpless on the foaming water.

One more hope remained—the foremast must go; should the ship then be unable to rise, our doom must be sealed. Anxiously we all watched the captain. Again he looked to windward, carrying his glance round on every side. His hand was raised to his mouth, apparently about to give the same ominous order as before, when suddenly the ship rose up from her dangerous position; and now, feeling the power of the helm, away she flew before the fierce hurricane. Hour after hour we continued our course, wherever the wind sent us—chiefly, however, towards the east. It was impossible, with the fearful sea there was then running, to attempt to raise jury-masts. Should land appear ahead, we knew too well that there was every probability of our being cast on it. We might anchor, and with the masts gone, the anchors might possibly hold, but we could scarcely indulge in that hope—indeed, few on board had any expectation of escaping shipwreck.

Again and again the captain examined his chart. It could not, however, be entirely depended on. A bright look-out was, of course, kept ahead, that whatever danger there might be in our course might be discovered as soon as possible, and such efforts made as good seamanship might dictate to avoid it. The time was a very trying one. I should have been anxious had I no one I cared for on board, but I dreaded the danger to which my dear sister Emily might be exposed, and I felt, too, for Mrs Davenport and Grace. Men can more easily escape from shipwreck, and if cast on a desert island are better able to rough it, than females; but what hope would there be of two young girls escaping with their lives, should we be cast on shore? I had not forgotten either the remarks Potto Jumbo had made about the Lascars. I could not help fancying that they all had a more than usually sulky manner. When ordered to do any duty, they generally gave a scowling glance towards the officers, and performed it in a slovenly, indifferent manner.

Darkness came on, and still the wind blew as hard as ever, and the ship flew on before it. I had been on deck for many hours, and it was my watch below, and in spite of the danger we were in, I could scarcely keep my eyes open. Even, however, when I laid my head on the pillow, I knew that any moment I might be awakened by the fearful crashing of the ship striking on a coral reef, with the sound of our remaining mast going by the board. Before going to sleep, however, I went into the cabin, and entreated the ladies to lie down. Emily and Grace said they would, and Mrs Davenport urged them to do so, but I found that she had no intention herself of sleeping. She would, I guessed, sit up, and watch and pray for her young charges. I, however, was scarcely in my berth before I was fast asleep, in spite of the loud roaring of the seas, the wild motion of the ship, and the howling of the wind in the fore-rigging.

Chapter Nine.

The Moluccas.

Wonderful was the change which I found had taken place when I returned on deck. The sun was shining brightly, the wind had fallen to a moderate breeze. The sea, though heaving and dancing, sparkling brightly in the sunbeams, had gone down considerably, but still blew from the same quarter as before. The ship was standing to the east.

“We have passed through the Straits of Banca, and are crossing the Molucca passage,” said Mr Thudicumb, of whom I asked whereabouts we were. “The captain proposes making for Ternate, which belongs to the Dutch. We may hope there to get new masts—at all events, it is the nearest place which we can reach with the wind as it is at present, and have any hope of getting the ship put to rights.”

All day long we were busily employed in repairing damages as far as we could. I had but little time to exchange a word with Emily. I was thankful to find, however, that she and Grace had quite recovered their spirits, though they owned that they had been greatly frightened during the hurricane.

“Still it is a comfort, Walter, to know that there is One who always watches over us, and does everything for the best. If he had thought fit to allow the ship to founder, I am very sure he would have had good reason for so doing. Still, as I know he wishes us to pray for blessings, I was praying all the time that we might be preserved, and especially that no accident might happen to you, my dear brother. Oh, how I thought of you when you were on deck, and the storm was blowing and the masts being cut away, knowing the fearful danger to which you were exposed.”

It was soon after sunrise one morning, when, a light mist clearing away, before us appeared, at some distance from each other, several lofty conical mountains rising as it were directly out of the sea, while beyond them was seen a line of blue land, extending north and south as far as the eye could reach.

“You see that peak ahead, Walter,” said Captain Davenport to me. “That is the island of Ternate, to which we are bound. To the right of it is Tidore. All those peaks are volcanic; and some of them, I believe, occasionally throw up flames. The land we see beyond is the large island of Gilolo—a strange land, I believe, but very little is known about it.”

A light breeze carried us on over the calm blue sea; when at length, entering between the two islands I have mentioned, the town of Ternate appeared in sight, stretching along the shores at the very base of the mountain.

“This is indeed beautiful!” exclaimed Emily, who just then came on deck, as she gazed up at the rugged promontories and the lofty volcanic cone of Tidore on one side, with the high mountain of Ternate on the other, while numerous other peaks rose on the neighbouring islands, as well as on the larger island in the distance. Immediately behind the town appeared thick groves of forest trees; indeed, vegetation was seen rising to the very summit of the cone, and it was difficult to believe that, from that calm and beautiful mountain, occasionally lava, streams burst forth; and produced destruction on every side.

A large amount of sago, massoi bark, tortoise-shell, tripang, and paradise birds are brought over from Papua, and shipped at Ternate. A tax, however, is placed on the exportation of paradise birds, which is paid to the Sultan of Tidore, whose predecessors ruled these islands. The paradise birds are chiefly sent to China, where they are highly valued. Above our heads, as we looked up, we saw the lofty summit of the mountain of Ternate, from whence, amid the luxuriant vegetation which surrounds its sides, columns of smoke are for ever rising towards the blue sky above—indeed, the whole island is simply a lofty volcano, the base of which is beneath the ocean. Its circumference at the shore line is about six miles, and its height 5400 feet. Several severe and destructive eruptions have taken place at different times. The last occurred only a short time before we were there. The lava poured forth and flowed down its sides into the sea, loud thunders were heard, smoke and ashes rose up, and hot stones fell like hail on every side, setting fire to the dead wood which, after so long a rest, had completely grown over the ground, and causing it at night to assume the appearance of one vast mountain of flame. For fifteen hours the solid ground rolled like a wave of the sea. Fort Orange, which had withstood numberless earthquakes for two centuries and a quarter, was almost overwhelmed. The people betook themselves to their boats, for the ocean and land seemed to have exchanged natures; the water being calm, while the land was heaving and gaping like a stormy sea.

Captain Davenport had been unwell for some time. He was acquainted with a wealthy Dutch merchant in the place, who invited him and his wife and daughter to take up their residence at his country house while the ship remained in the harbour. They of course said they could not leave Emily, who therefore accompanied them. Mr Hooker also went on shore, but engaged a house at a little distance from the town, where he could pursue his researches in natural history more uninterruptedly than in the town. He lost no time in sending out hunters in all directions to procure specimens. The various specimens which he already possessed were landed, that he might also re-arrange them. I paid him one or two visits, and found him enjoying his existence excessively. His house had of course only one floor: the walls for five feet were of stone; the roof was supported above them on strong squared posts, the interval being filled in with the leaf-stems of the sago-palm fitted in wooden framings. The ceilings were of the same material. The floor was of stucco. There was a centre hall, with three rooms opening off it on one side and one on the other; while on two other sides were broad verandahs, serving as cool drawing-rooms, or sleeping-places, perhaps, in the hotter months.

This island was at one time in possession of the Portuguese, who were said to have tyrannised over the natives. They were driven out by the Dutch, who are themselves accused of not being over careful of the well-being of the people they conquered. This island and several in a line to the south of it are known as the Moluccas, or Spice Islands. It was the original country of the clove, and here alone it was cultivated. Although the early visitors procured nutmegs and mace from the inhabitants, these were brought over from New Guinea, and the neighbouring islands, where they grew wild. The early voyagers made such enormous profits by their cargoes of spices from these regions, that they were able to give in exchange, jewels, gold, and the richest manufactures, which they brought from Europe or India. When, however, the Dutch took possession of the country they determined to confine the production to one or two islands, over which they could keep a strict watch, in order completely to confine the monopoly to themselves. They chose the island of Banda for the cultivation of nutmegs, and fixed on Amboyna for the production of the clove. The cultivation of the nutmeg in Banda has been eminently successful, but that of the clove in Amboyna has scarcely paid its expenses; the soil and climate of that island not suiting it as well as the regions where it was first found. The object of the Dutch has been to keep the monopoly of the sale of spices in their own hands, and thus to raise the price. They have therefore compelled the native chiefs to destroy the spice trees growing in their territories wherever they have been able to do so. To induce them to do this, they paid to each a fixed subsidy, the chiefs indeed being therefore somewhat the gainers. Formerly their sultan kept the trade solely in his own hands, and he was far more tyrannical than the Portuguese or Dutch. When our own circumnavigator Drake visited these islands, he purchased his cargo from the sultan, not from the native cultivators. As I walked about Ternate I felt satisfied that I should not at all wish to take up my abode there, for in every direction were seen the ruins of massive stone or brick buildings of every description which had been overwhelmed by earthquakes; indeed, considering the frequency of their occurrence, it is surprising that people should be willing to remain in the island. I, of course, was not able to see much of the country, as I was compelled to be on board, the more so as several of the crew were ill, and had been removed on shore, where the merchant I spoke of had them kindly looked after. We had great difficulty in getting a mast of sufficient size to replace the mainmast we had lost. At length, however, we got both our lower masts in, and we hoped, in the course of a week, should Captain Davenport and the rest of the crew be sufficiently recovered, to continue our voyage.

One evening when work was over, Mr Thudicumb, with the second mate and several of the men, went on shore, leaving the ship under charge of the boatswain, with about a dozen Englishmen and the Lascars. I, having been on shore several times, agreed also to remain to assist Mr Tarbox. The weather had for some time been threatening, but the clouds had passed away, and the sky again become serene. That evening the same appearances occurred. I should say that at Ternate a number of people of different nations are collected together. The most numerous, probably, are the Chinese, and their curious little boats are seen skimming about in all directions. There are traders from all parts of the East, so that the harbour at times presents a very animated appearance. I was on deck with Mr Tarbox, when looking out we saw a thick mass of clouds come rolling up suddenly on every side of the mountains.

“I wish Mr Thudicumb and the mate were on board,” he said to me; “I don’t like the look of things. We must veer away more cable and get another anchor over the bows. See, the Chinamen begin to think there is something in it.”

As he spoke, a number of Chinese and other boats were seen pulling in for the land; before, however, they could reach it, a loud roaring sound was heard, and in an instant the whole ocean seemed torn up by some mighty power, and a fierce blast broke down upon us. The vessels in the harbour were seen endeavouring to secure themselves as well as they could; but in a few minutes numbers were driven together, grinding and striking against each other, while they were sent by the fury of the sea towards the shore. The boats, tossed like cockle-shells, appeared every instant as if about to be overwhelmed by the ocean; many were capsized close to us, but we could render no assistance. Every instant the sea rose higher and higher, till we could scarcely see the shore beyond it. The ship, however, held well to her anchors. It was fortunate for us we had no top gear aloft, or the case might have been different.

“I only hope Mr Thudicumb and the rest are safe on shore,” I observed to Dick Tarbox.

“They will not attempt to come off while this gale is blowing.”

In a short time, a fearful havoc was made with the various craft in the harbour. Around us wrecks strewed the sea in every direction; here and there poor fellows swimming for their lives, some holding on to pieces of planks and spars. Many sank before our eyes. Boat after boat was upset. Some, however, rode over the seas in gallant style, the men on board pulling bravely. The fury of the gale increased. We veered out more cable. Night at length coming on, added to the wild horrors of the scene. Now, as a vessel drove past us, we could hear the shrieks and cries of the unhappy crew as they were carried to destruction. Such, in spite of the size of our stout ship, might be our fate should the anchors not hold.

Suddenly the wind dropped; still the sea continued to leap and foam around us.

“It will be all right, I hope,” I said to Mr Tarbox. “These hurricanes seldom last long, I fancy.”

“Not quite so certain of that, Walter,” he observed. “I don’t like the look of the sky even now.” Once more examining the cables, he walked with me aft, from whence we could better see the shore.

“Hark! what is that roaring?” I said. It seemed as if a blast was sweeping over the land, hurling down trees and buildings and all impediments in its course. “Can it be an earthquake? Oh! what will become of my sister and those on shore?”

“No, it is no earthquake,” answered the boatswain; “it is the hurricane shifting its quarter.”

As he spoke, the wind struck the ship with redoubled force. She swung round before it; still, knowing that our anchors had been holding, and our cables strong, we had little fear of receiving damage, as the sea, at all events, with the change of wind, would subside instead of being increased. Suddenly, however, a peculiar sound was heard, as of a chain running out. The boatswain rushed forward, and I followed him; but we were only just in time to see the end of the chain cables flying through the hawse-holes, and away the ship drifted out of the harbour.

“That did not happen by chance,” exclaimed Tarbox; “it is the work of those Lascars. Quick, lads, for your lives!” shouted the boatswain. “Range our spare cable! Get the second bower-anchor from the hold!—Now you, Ali Tomba, see that your men work,” he added, turning to the serang.

The English seamen worked away energetically; but in the dark it was a difficult business to get up the heavy anchor and chain cable. The Lascars were apparently assisting as zealously as the rest of the crew. Some accident or other was, however, continually occurring; and before the anchor could be got up and the cable ranged, the ship was in the centre of the channel, driving away at a rapid rate out to sea. At length the anchor was got ready for letting go. Scarcely, however, had it been got over the bows than with a loud splash it fell into the water free of the chain.

“Ali Tomba, you or your people have played us that trick!” exclaimed the boatswain.

The serang made no answer, but a cry of mocking laughter was heard from several quarters. Roger Trew, lead in hand, flew to the chains. He gave one heave. “No bottom,” he cried. “We cannot bring up even if we wish!”

I asked the boatswain what he proposed doing. “We ought to punish those Lascars, for they have played us that trick,” I observed.

“Little use to attempt to do that, Walter,” he answered. “If I was a navigator I might know more about it, but my only notion is to let the ship drive. When the hurricane is over, we must try to do our best to regain the harbour.”

“I am not much of a navigator yet,” I observed, “but I will look at the captain’s chart, and see whereabouts we are going. We shall, at all events, better know then what to do.”

“Ah, there’s nothing like learning,” observed Tarbox; “I wish I had more of it. What a seaman can do I will do, and with your help, Walter, we may still weather this gale.”

I hurried into the cabin, and soon found the chart. It afforded me but little satisfaction, however. We were driving to the southward, but several islands were in our course. We might escape them, but if driven against them, our destruction would be certain. With sails unbent, and short-handed as we were, we could scarcely hope to be able to get under the lee of one of the islands.

“We must try it, though,” said Tarbox. “We have another anchor and cable, and that will hold us well enough in a moderate breeze with land to windward, unless these Lascar fellows play us another trick. I should like to clap them all in irons at once.”

I agreed with him, but as we only mustered twelve men besides ourselves, and they numbered eleven, it would be no easy matter to do so, especially as they would probably be prepared for an attack. I, however, advised the boatswain to keep all our people together, that in case the Lascars purposed our destruction, we might not, at all events, be cut off in detail. He agreed to the wisdom of this caution, and sent Roger Trew to get the people together.

Our position was indeed a very fearful one. The hurricane seemed rather to increase in strength than to cease. On, on we drove. The helm was put up, and we scudded before it, the dark seas rising on either hand hissing and foaming, and every moment seeming about to overwhelm us. I could not help feeling also great anxiety about those we had left on shore. Even should they have escaped injury, I felt how anxious Captain Davenport would be when he found that the ship had disappeared; and Emily, too, how great would be her grief at the thought that I was probably lost. What the Lascars were about, I could not tell. Our people remained aft, while they kept forward. I have gone through many trying scenes, but that was decidedly one of the most trying. We felt it the more because we were personally safe. We could walk about and take our food, but at the same time we were every moment expecting destruction. I was soon to be in a far more dangerous position, but then I was looking out, hoping to be saved.

The morning at length broke. We saw the Lascars clustered forward. What they were about to do we could not tell. Still we drove on. Land appeared on either hand in the far distance. It was evident that we were between two islands. The chart showed me that one was Gilolo, and the other the island of Batchian. The want of sails prevented our taking the ship into some sheltered place which we might hope to find on one side or the other.

“We must either compel the Lascars to assist us in bending sails and getting the anchor ready, or attack them and drive them overboard,” said the boatswain to me.

“That cannot be done without bloodshed, I fear,” I answered, “for they are armed as well as we are.”

Thus the two parties remained watching each other. Our men were eager to make a dash forward and attack the Lascars, but the boatswain restrained them.

“Wait a bit, lads,” he said; “maybe they will attack us, and then, if we beat them, as I am very sure we shall, we shall not have their blood on our hands. Depend upon it, if they slipped the cables—and I am very sure they did—they did not expect the hurricane to continue so long as it has done. They wish it over as much as we do; and, like many other villains, in attempting to work us injury they are likely enough to bring destruction on their own heads.”

Hour after hour passed by, and once more the land seemed to recede from us, and we were in the open sea. The wind had slightly gone down, but still it blew with fearful violence. Again darkness was stealing over us. Our deck presented a strange appearance—a very sad one, in truth. The small number of human beings there collected, instead of helping each other, stood prepared for a desperate fight. Possibly, if it had not been for the Lascars, we might long since have been anchored in safety. I saw by the chart that several small islands, rocks, and shoals lay ahead. Should we escape them? There was the question. Several times the boatswain, or Roger Trew, or one of the other men, had ascended the main rigging to look ahead in search of land. However, so high did the sea run, that we might be close upon an island, unless it was a high one, without discovering it.

The increasing darkness now prevented us seeing beyond the bowsprit. All we could do, therefore, was to steer as we had hitherto done before the sea, to escape its breaking on board us. We had scarcely eaten anything for some hours, when the boatswain advised us to take some food. “Whatever happens, we have work before us; and we must keep the strength in our bodies,” he observed. Fortunately there was a good supply in the cabin, and half our party went down at a time to sup, leaving the others on guard on deck. All hands had just taken a hearty meal, when, as we were collected together on the quarter-deck, just below the poop, the sound a seaman most dreads—the roar of breakers—struck our ears. We all listened attentively. There could be no doubt about it. It was far deeper and louder than the roaring of the sea against our sides. I held my breath; so I suspect did every one round me.

“What is it, Mr Walter?” asked Oliver, who was standing close to me.

“Some of us will meet with watery graves before many minutes are over,” said the boatswain, “unless Providence works a miracle to save the ship.”

Scarcely had he spoken when we felt the ship rising to a heavy sea, then down she came with a crash which made every timber in her quiver and shake.

“To the main rigging!” cried the boatswain, seizing me by the collar. I saw Roger Trew seize Oliver in the same way. “Quick, quick, lads! or the next sea will wash you off the deck,” cried the boatswain.

We sprang into the shrouds, and climbed up, up, up into the pitchy darkness. Scarcely were we off the deck than a huge sea came rolling up, sweeping everything before it. The Lascars had done as we had set them the example, and numbers of dark forms were seen swarming up the rigging into the fore-top. Another and another sea followed. No longer could we distinguish the deck below us, so completely overwhelmed was it by the raging waters. Higher and higher they rose. The masts swayed about as if on the point of falling. Fearful, indeed, was the scene. The boatswain, getting into the top, helped me up, and I found myself seated with Oliver by my side. We could just distinguish the foremast through the gloom, the sea rising almost to cover the top to which the Lascars were clinging, curling over them as if to drag them from their perches.

Perilous as was our position, a cry escaped our men as we saw the foremast begin to totter. Another sea came and over it went, carrying the shrieking wretches clinging to it away in its embrace. Though good swimmers, in vain they attempted to reach the mainmast. The next sea swept them away to leeward. Their fate might be ours, however, any moment. We all knew that very well. With what desperate energy did we cling to that lone mast in the midst of the raging ocean. As we looked round our eyes could not pierce the thick gloom, nor ascertain whether any land was near. Oliver Farwell was clinging on next to me. The other men had secured themselves round the mast, others to the top. No one spoke; indeed it seemed to all of us that our last moments had arrived. Every instant we expected to be hurled off from our unstable resting-place, as the seas dashed with redoubled fury against the wreck. We could hear the vessel breaking up below us, and we all well knew that in a short time the mast itself must go for want of support.

Scarcely had one roaring wave passed under us than another followed. Above our heads was a dark, murky sky, below and around the foaming sea. Even the best manned life-boat could scarcely have lived amid that foaming mass of water.

“It is very terrible!” I could not help exclaiming.

“Trust in God,” said a voice near me.

Oliver Farwell spoke.

“I do, Oliver, I do,” I answered.

“Right, Mr Walter,” he said. “If he thinks fit he can find a way for us to escape.”

“Hold on, lads, even though the mast gives way!” shouted the boatswain. “The mast will float us, and maybe carry us to some pleasant shore. Daylight will come in time, and show us whereabouts we are. Never fear, lads.”

“Ay, ay,” answered several voices. “We will cling to the mast as long as our fingers can gripe hold of it.”

“Hold on, Oliver, hold on!” I said. “Don’t you feel as if the mast was going?”

Scarcely had I uttered the words when another sea came rolling up. It struck the shattered wreck like a huge hammer. In an instant it seemed as if all her timbers had parted. A cry rose from many of the sturdy men on the top. Over bent the mast. Now it swayed on one side, now on the other, and then with a crash down it sunk into the boiling ocean. I thought that I had been holding on securely, but at that instant a sea swept by, catching the end to which I clung. I felt myself torn from my grasp, and was carried far away off amid the seething waters.

Chapter Ten.

A desert island is reached.

As I was washed away from the mainmast a cry from Oliver reached my ears. I knew by this that he too had been carried off by the sea. I sprang towards him. “I will save him or perish!” I thought, “as I did once before.” He had not been idle since his first accident, and had done his best to become a swimmer. He kept up boldly. I urged him to try and recover the mast, but when we looked round we could discover it on neither side. Now I felt myself carried to the summit of a sea, to be hurled over again on the other side. I had little hope of escape, but still I resolved to struggle to the last. Oliver swam bravely by my side, but I knew from the exertions he was making that he could not long continue them.

“Oh, I am sinking! I am sinking!” he cried out suddenly. I caught him by the collar. At that instant, as I put out my hand, I felt it grasp a hard object. It was a large spar. I threw myself on it, dragging Oliver with me. With great difficulty I hauled him on to it, but so violent was the agitation of the sea that we could scarcely retain our hold. It seemed to me that we were driving onwards, carried perhaps by some current, but that might have been fancy. Again and again I looked out, in the hopes of seeing the mast. Every instant I feared that Oliver would again be washed off, but the foaming sea around and the dark sky above was all I could discern. I put out my hand, and caught hold of a rope which was secured to the spar. The end of this I passed round Oliver’s body, fastening myself with another portion. Still, though I kept my head well out of water, the sea was so continually breaking over us that we were almost drowned, even though clinging to the spar. I do not pretend that I thought of much at the moment but my own safety and that of my companion, but the thoughts of my old friend, Dick Tarbox, and Roger Trew, as well as indeed of the other men, did come across my mind. I felt very sad, for I was afraid that they had been washed off, and had not been so fortunate as we were, in getting hold of a spar. Strange as it may seem, I scarcely for a moment expected to lose my own life. In a cold climate I do not think I could have held on as I did, but the sea was warm, and I did not feel in any way benumbed.

The previous part of the night had appeared very long; this, however, seemed far longer. I often felt very sleepy, but I was afraid, if I gave way to sleep, that I should lose my hold, and resisted the influence. Had I been alone, I felt that I should not have held on, neither perhaps could Oliver Farwell, but we encouraged each other. We did not say much, but not a minute during the whole night passed without our exchanging a word or two.

At length I began to hope that the sea was going down: indeed, after a little time it appeared evident that the water was calmer. It did not break over our heads so frequently as at first. I thought with what joy we should welcome the first streaks of day. At length, as we rose to the top of a sea, we caught sight of the sun himself rising above the horizon. The clouds had cleared away, the wind had almost completely fallen. How gloriously the sun shot upwards in the clear blue sky. Still the ocean rose and fell considerably. As we again reached the top of a billow, I caught sight of an object at no great distance. At first I thought it was a rock just above the water, but on looking again, I saw it was a piece of wreck, and on it was seated a human being. I looked again and again, and so did Oliver. We were certain that we could not be mistaken. We shouted at the top of our voices. We saw the person look round. Again we shouted. He stood up. He had not discovered us. At length I managed to get my knees on the spar, and to kneel and wave my hand above my head, shouting at the same time. He now saw us, and waved his hand in return. At first I thought he was one of the Lascars, but now I saw that it was Macco. The raft on which he floated afforded far more security than did our spar, but how to reach it was the question. In smooth water I might have pushed the spar before me with the help of Oliver. Presently we saw Macco slip off the raft and strike out towards us. He swam beautifully. I did not think a human being could make such rapid way through the water. In a short time we saw his dark-skinned face close to us.

“Ah! ah! Bery glad, Massa Walter. Bery glad to see you safe.”

“What has become of the other poor fellows, Macco?”

“I not know. Come now, I help you to get on my raft.” Saying this he swam round, and began pushing the spar before him, one end first, by which means it was easily driven through the water. It took us some time to reach the piece of wreck, which appeared to be part of the poop-deck. Getting on it himself, he hauled up Oliver first at my request, and then assisted me, making fast the spar to one side. The deck, under which were some beams, floated well, and supported us completely. We were thankful that our lives had been thus far preserved; but yet here we were, out in mid-ocean as far as we could see, without land in sight, and with no provisions, not even a drop of water to support life. We all too well knew that unless help should come, our lives had only been preserved to suffer a more lingering death than the one we had escaped. One of my first impulses was to stand up and look round, in the hope of seeing the mast, with some of my companions clinging to it, but though several pieces of wreck were visible, nothing of the mast could we discover. Macco could give very little account of the way he had escaped. He had, I found, been in the top, and a sea striking him had washed him away; but being a good swimmer, he struggled manfully for life, now floating on his back, now looking round in the hopes of seeing something to which he might cling. At last he found himself close to the deck; which, indeed, was on the point of being thrown over him, when, had he been struck, his fate would have been sealed. Darting away from it, however, he escaped the danger, and then swimming round, succeeded in placing himself upon it.

“I so glad,” he exclaimed, “dat I saved my life, because now I try to help save yours.”

Oliver and I thanked him very much, though I said that I could not exactly see how that was to be.

“A way will be found,” observed Oliver, quietly. “Let us trust in God; he knows how to bring all things about.”

As the sun rose higher in the sky, the heat became very great, striking down upon our unprotected heads. Fortunately we had all eaten a good supper; but after a time we began to feel hungry, and thirst especially assailed us. Oh, what would we not have given for a glass of water! My companions were inclined to drink the salt water; but I had heard of the danger of so doing, and urged them to refrain from the dangerous draught. Oliver and I had fortunately on our jackets. These were soon dried, and covering up our heads with them, we lay down to sleep on the raft. In an instant, it seemed to me, my eyes closed, and I forgot all that had occurred, and the fearful position in which we were still placed. I suspect that Macco must have slept too, though when we lay down he said that he should keep on the watch. I was still dreaming, with my head covered up, thinking that I was seated at dinner at my old school, and that a number of fellows suddenly burst in, shouting out that it was to be a half-holiday. The noises grew louder and louder; and presently a voice shouted close to me. It sounded strangely like that of Macco; but how he came to be at school I could not tell. Throwing the jacket off my head, I started up, and there I saw close to us a large native prow. She was full of fierce-looking people, whose voices I had at first heard. Macco, who had been asleep, had not till just before perceived them. Oliver rose at the same time that I did.

“If they are human beings, they will treat us kindly,” he observed, standing up, and waving his hand.

Macco seemed far from satisfied with their appearance. “Me no like dem fellows,” he said; “dey cut t’roat—eat! eat!”

“No fear of that,” I observed. “She looks to me like a trading prow, though her men certainly would suit the deck of a pirate.”

However, we had no choice. It was now perfectly calm, and the prow rowed up to the raft, the men in her making signs to us to come on board. As the vessel’s side touched the raft, ropes were thrown to us, and we soon clambered up on her deck. The people began to shout to us, evidently asking us questions; which, of course, we were not able to answer, not understanding a word that was said. The vessel was a strange-looking craft, with large mat-sails, her deck sloping from the stern down to the bows, which were by far the lowest part. In the after-part was a poop-deck; under which there was a sort of cabin, while a small house of bamboo in front of it formed another cabin. She was steered by two rudders, one on either quarter, the tiller ropes coming in through ports in the sides, and being worked by men who sat on the deck under the poop. Her crew were brown-skinned men, in the usual dress of Malay seamen; that is to say, a pair of trousers fastened round the waist, a handkerchief encircling the head, and a thin cotton jacket, which, however, was thrown off when they were at work. Their captain, however, wore a handsome costume. He was seated on a cushion just before the poop, enjoying the luxury of an evening smoke, a long pipe with a bowl being in his hand. We were now taken up before him; and he again put questions to us, which of course, as before, we were unable to answer. At length we heard him shouting out to the men forward. One of them came aft, and the chief said a few words to him. On this he turned round to us, and said, “Talky Inglis?” I nodded. “Where you come from?” he asked, pretty quickly. I told him we had been wrecked at no great distance, and had been floated away from the place. After I had put my explanation in several different ways, he seemed to understand me. He explained what I had said to the chief, who seemed greatly delighted, and immediately issued some orders to his men. They forthwith got out their sweeps, and began pulling away in the direction, we supposed, of the wreck. I was very glad of this, as I thought there was a possibility, should any of our companions have escaped drowning, of finding them.

I now told our interpreter that we were very hungry and thirsty. He understood me more by the signs I made than the words, I suspect; and, nodding, made me understand that some food would be brought us. “But we are thirsty, thirsty!” I exclaimed. Indeed, my parched tongue made me feel that without a draught of water I could scarcely swallow food. On this our interpreter, going into the hold, brought up a thick cane of bamboo, and pulling a stopper out of the top, showed us, to our great satisfaction, that it was full of water. I never enjoyed a more delicious draught. I thought of my companions, however, and handed it to Oliver, who passed it on to Macco, after which I took another pull at it; and so we continued passing it round, till we had drained the contents.

We were ready by this time for dinner, and were thankful to see several dishes brought out of the little building which formed the cook-house on deck. The chief signed to us to sit down and fall to. One was rice; of that there was no doubt. Another, too, I soon discovered to be that most valuable production of the East, the bread-fruit: this was cut in slices and fried. The third, however, puzzled me excessively, and its appearance was far from attractive. There was, besides, a little saucer with red pepper. Oliver and I at once attacked the bread-fruit, when Macco pointed to the other dish.

“Eat, eat; good!” he said.

“Do you take some of it,” I observed, unwilling to begin.

He immediately did so, swallowing a good portion.

“What is it?” I asked.

“You know; what sailor call ‘squid,’” he answered. “Dem very good.”

I now guessed that it was octopus, or ink-fish, the favourite food of the sperm whale. I would rather have kept to the bread-fruit and rice; but Oliver was not so particular, and took a little with some red pepper. On his pronouncing it very good, I followed his example, and found it far more palatable than I had expected, and I doubt not very nutritious. I remembered having heard that it was dangerous, after a long fast, to eat much, and I therefore took but little. Oliver also was equally abstemious. Macco, however, laughed at my warning, and very soon finished off the contents of the dishes.

We hoped, from the hospitable way we were entertained, that we should continue to be treated equally well. After we had finished our repast, Oliver and I felt very sleepy. The chief seeing this, made signs to us that we might go into the bamboo house and rest. It was very clean and neat; a sort of sofa being on one side, on which there was room for Oliver and me to lie down, one at one end, and one at the other—with our legs somewhat drawn up, to be sure, as the whole length was not more than six feet. We must have slept there the whole night; for when we got up we found the sun just rising, while the chief and his crew were turning their faces towards Mecca—or where they supposed it to be—and offering up their morning prayers. By this we knew that they were Mohammedans: such, indeed, is the religion of a large number of the people of the archipelago inhabiting the sea-coasts.

We had time to look about us, and examine the strange craft we had got on board. She had no masts, but the sails were hoisted on huge triangles, which could be lowered at pleasure. Her anchor, too, was of curious construction: it consisted of a tough, hooked piece of timber, which served as the fluke or hook, being strengthened by twisted ratans, which bound it to the shank; while the stock was formed of a large flat stone, also secured by ratans to the shank. I observed that all the crew were armed; and on a small piece of timber in the bows a small swivel gun was placed, a similar piece being fixed in the after-part of the vessel. The cable also was formed of ratan, which, though strong, could easily, I suspected, be cut by rocks.

We found, on seeing Macco, that the vessel had made but little progress during the night, having anchored near a reef in order not to pass the spot where the wreck was supposed to have occurred. Little notice of us was taken by the chief or his men: they all seemed eagerly looking out for the expected wreck. We also kept our eyes about us in every direction, earnestly hoping that she might appear; but not a sign of her was visible. I thought I saw a sail in the far distance. I pointed it out to Oliver. He was of the same opinion; so was Macco: but whether the natives saw it or not, we could not tell.

We continued our course, the breeze being light. After a time the prow was steered first to the right, then to the left. Then she made a traverse to the south as near to the wind as she could lay (which, by-the-by, was not very near, even with the aid of her oars); but though several reefs were seen, on one of which probably the ship had struck, she was nowhere to be discovered. We saw, however, pieces of timber and various articles floating about. At length we caught sight of a long object in the water. We steered towards it. Yes; it was the very mast to which we had clung! So it seemed to me, and so Oliver thought. If so, what had become of our unfortunate companions? Shortly afterwards another mast was seen. A human form was entangled in the rigging. We eagerly looked down on it as we passed. The dark skin showed that it was the body of one of the Lascars. The mast was undoubtedly the foremast to which they had clung. A light boat was launched from the deck of the prow, and three hands went into it to the mast. I saw that they were taking off the girdle of the dead man. As they lifted him up I distinguished the features—so I thought—of Ali Tomba, who had been the cause of the destruction of the Bussorah Merchant. Leaving the body, the men returned with the sash and clothes. They were examined, and found to contain a considerable number of coins, at which the natives gazed with eager eyes.

Their whole conduct now changed towards us. The chief had seated himself in his usual place on the deck, when we were dragged up to him, and he made signs to us to empty our pockets. Oliver and Macco had, of course, but a few small coins: I had rather more, but no great sum, in Dutch money, which Captain Davenport had given me to make some purchases in the town of Ternate. I suppose they had treated us with civility at first, not understanding that our ship was entirely lost, and perhaps expecting that our countrymen would have punished them had they behaved ill to us. The chief seemed very angry at finding we had so little of value about us. He now made us a sign that we were to be gone from his presence. We sat down in the shade before the house, in the centre of the deck, where Macco began to bewail our hard fate, observing that he was sure the natives would kill and eat us. I endeavoured to comfort him by saying, that as they were Mohammedans they certainly would not eat us, though I could not be answerable for their not taking our lives; and, as far as I could, I endeavoured to persuade him to be prepared for whatever might happen.

“The great thing, Macco,” said Oliver, joining in the conversation, “is to be sure that He who lives up there,”—(and he pointed to the blue sky)—“who made this world, and all those stars we see, loves us, his creatures whom he has placed on the earth; and if we trust him, he will do everything that is best for us.”

“But how I know he does love us?” asked Macco. “He let many people die; many be drowned; many be killed with blow up mountain or shake of earth; many die fever, plague; many kill each other.”

“Very true,” answered Oliver. “Sometimes he lets those who love him best die. He does not say that he will keep even his friends alive; but if he takes them out of a bad world and puts them into a good one, does not that show his love? Some of those who are killed in the terrible way you say, are not his friends; but we know he loves us, because he gave One he loves better than anything else, to die for us, to be punished instead of us. We deserve punishment; we all feel that. He has told us, too, that he loves us; and if we believe the Bible, we must believe that. If man had not sinned, but had always been good and obedient, we might have reason to doubt God’s Word; but we are sure that man has sinned, and continues sinning, and it was sin which brought all this suffering on man. Besides, again, as I said, we must not look upon death—the mere death of the body—as a punishment. It may be a great blessing; it is indeed so to many. But then, again, Macco, we cannot pretend to understand all God’s dealings with us.”

I listened very attentively to these remarks made by Oliver. A new light seemed to break on me. God’s love! God’s love!—oh, how little do we understand that! It is only a knowledge of that which can enable us in any way to comprehend his dealings with man.

“You see, Macco,” continued Oliver, “that God is just as well as loving. He punishes those who continue to refuse his offers of mercy. With many he tries loving-kindness first. Sometimes his love makes him afflict people for the sake of bringing them to him, making them feel their own helplessness. The great thing of all, however, is to know for a certainty that he loves us, and that whatever he does is for the best. When a man is sure of this, he trusts to God, whatever happens. I have a loving mother, who taught me this. I am very sure it is the most valuable knowledge she could have given me. Though we know that we are sinners, and deserve punishment, yet we also know that when God’s Son became man and died on the cross, being sacrificed for our sins, he took away the sins of all those who trust to him; and so, instead of being sinners in God’s sight, when we thus trust to him we are made pure and holy, and fit to go to heaven—nay, sure of going to heaven when we die. If you believe this, Macco, you will not be afraid even though the people round us should suddenly jump up and kill us all, and throw us overboard.”

Macco was silent for some time. At length he looked up, and said,—“Bless you, Oliver; you tell me great truth. I no fear to die now.”

I felt indeed grateful to my young companion. His words had given me a courage I could scarcely have expected to possess; and though I did not feel indifferent as to our fate, yet I was prepared, at all events, far better than I should otherwise have been for whatever might happen.

The native seamen sat round in the bow of the vessel, eating from a huge dish of rice, with some dried fish of some sort, seasoned with red pepper. After they had eaten their fill, they put down the remains of the dish—into which they had all plunged their unclean fingers—before us, much in the way they would have put it before a hungry dog, and made us a sign to eat it if we chose. At first I could scarcely bring myself to touch the food; but Macco urged me to do so, and he and Oliver at length beginning their repast, I could no longer resist the desire to eat.

I could not make out exactly whether we were on board a trader or a pirate; perhaps a mixture of both. If she was a trader, I concluded she was bound to the coast of New Guinea for tripang, or sea-slug—considered a great delicacy by the Chinese and other people to the north; perhaps for pearls to the Aru Islands, or for other productions of the southern part of the archipelago. We found, at all events, that they were steering to the south. For several days they stood on, not altering their course. We were treated in the same manner as we had been since they had failed to discover the wreck of which we had told them. They gave us but scanty food, and allowed us but little water. The interpreter no longer came near us, while scowling looks were cast at us from every side. At length an island appeared on our port-bow, towards which the prow was steered. It was thickly wooded, down to the very water’s edge. A variety of strange-looking shrubs were seen, with lofty and elegant palms rising above them. What they were going to do we could not surmise. Having got close in, the sails were lowered, and the anchor let go. A boat was then launched. As we were standing looking towards the shore, the chief touched me on the shoulder, and made signs that I was to get into the boat. I knew that resistance would be useless. Two men then stepped in. I also did as I was ordered. He then signed to Oliver and Macco to follow; Macco going forward, and Oliver and I sitting in the stern. We endeavoured to ascertain from the chief why we were to be carried to the island; but he did not answer, making only an impatient gesture to us to be off. Without wasting further words, we took our seats, and the two men began to pull away towards the shore.

Chapter Eleven.

Our Island.

A ledge of rocks running out from the land formed a small natural harbour, into which the boat ran, and soon reached the sandy beach. Here the crew made signs to us to land. We obeyed, for resistance, of course, was useless. I jumped on shore, followed by my two companions, and scarcely wetting our feet, we reached the dry beach. The men, then giving a shove with their oars, pulled away, leaving us on what appeared to be an uninhabited island. Why we were thus treated we could not comprehend.

“I do not see that we have any great reason to complain,” observed Oliver. “We should have been very thankful had we reached this island on the raft, and we ought to be very much obliged to those people for carrying us here. They might have taken us to some place and sold us for slaves, or might have creesed us and thrown us overboard.”

“You are right, Oliver,” I answered; “and we must try to make the best of it. I only hope we may find food and water. Unless they were less than human, they could scarcely have placed us on an island which they knew was destitute of water.” We made these remarks as we watched the boat rowing away toward the prow. She soon reached the vessel, was hoisted up, and the prow made sail to the southward. We now sat down on the beach, to see what was best to be done. Macco had his sailor’s knife, fortunately, secured with a lanyard round his neck. I had a large clasp-knife in my pocket, which, though, like my clothes, somewhat the worse for having been wetted with salt water, was still serviceable and sharp.

The first thing was to survey our island, we agreed, and to try to find water. The shore was lined in many places with the curious pandanus, or screw-palm, which may well be described as a trunk with branches at both ends; or rather the roots seem to have lifted the trunk into the air and to have assumed the appearance of branches. Its woody fruit, about five inches in diameter, is in the form of a sphere, and is regularly divided by projections of a diamond shape.

The jungle was so thick that we could penetrate but a very little way through it, with great difficulty. Walking along the beach, we reached a small opening—a miniature gulf, as it were, into which apparently a stream of water had at some time flowed, though at present the bed was perfectly dry. Looking up it, we discovered a high hill some little distance inland; we agreed that if we could make our way to that, we might thence have a better view of the surrounding country. We had not gone far when we came to a grove of bamboos. We each of us cut down a couple: one we pointed to serve as a weapon of defence; and the other we formed into the shape of a gouge to serve as a spade, with which we intended to dig for water, should we not find any stream or pool. Still, from the rich vegetation which appeared on every side, we had little doubt that water would be found. Proceeding up the dry water-course, we approached the hill; but it grew narrower and narrower, till at length the trees and underwood, with numberless creepers, so completely blocked up the way, that we could scarcely force a road through it. Still, to the top of the hill we had determined to go. Making use of our knives, we cut away the creepers, sometimes crawling under the trees, sometimes climbing over the stems which bent across our course. Once more we saw the summit of the hill. It appeared much higher than we at first supposed it to be. At length we were rewarded for our exertions by finding that we were actually ascending the side. On we went, the underwood becoming less dense as we rose higher and higher. We now had little difficulty in making our way, the trees and shrubs indeed assisting us in climbing the steep sides. When, however, we got to the top, we found that what we had supposed to be small shrubs were, in reality, large trees, covering it so thickly that the view on every side was shut out.

“I am afraid we have had all our toil for nothing,” I observed.

“I am afraid so, too,” said Oliver.

“Stay, Massa Walter,” observed Macco. “I climb to top of dis tree, and den see what I can see.”

He pointed to the lofty palm under which we were standing. Descending a little way, he cut a quantity of creepers, which he soon twisted into a strong hoop round the tree and his own body. He now began, by placing the hoop a little way above him and leaning back, to climb upwards, and with wonderful rapidity reached the summit. We asked him what he saw.

“We on good big island!” he shouted out. “Plenty of wood; but no see water. Dere oder islands.” And then pointing to the south-east, he cried out,—“Dere more land, long, long away dere!”

“Do you make out any vessel?” I asked.

“No; only prow go away to de south.”

“That must be the coast of New Guinea,” I observed to Oliver. “I only hope none of the inhabitants may come over to this island, for they are terrible savages.”

“If they come, we must keep out of their way,” said Oliver. “It would be better to remain here than to be carried off and eaten by them.”

Macco, having ended his survey, descended the tree. I tried to get up the same way, wishing to take a look round myself; but I found that, though not a bad climber, I could not manage it. Seeing no great use in persisting in the attempt, I gave it up. We could find no other way down to the shore, besides the one up which we had come. Having cleared away some impediments, we had less difficulty in returning than we had found in going upwards. Macco led; indeed, his knowledge of woodcraft in his native country was of great service to us, for I believe without him we should very easily have lost our way, even though we had left the marks of our knives on the creepers as we went up. As we were pushing on, my eye caught sight of some trees in a hollow on one side, which I at once knew to be sago-trees, from the description Mr Hooker had given me of them.

“See!” I exclaimed to Oliver, “there is a supply of food sufficient to last us for months, or years, indeed, if we can manage to manufacture the sago; and I think we shall have little difficulty in doing that.”

I pointed it out to Macco. He knew them at once.

“Yes, yes!” he said; “dey bery good. I make food from dem. Come to look for water dere.”

Following him, we proceeded to the hollow I have mentioned. The ground was low and soft, and gave us some hopes of finding water. We instantly set to work, digging with our bamboo spades. We dug and dug in the soft earth; but though it was somewhat moist, not a thimbleful of water appeared. Still we did not despair. Oliver proposed that we should look for another spot at a lower level, where we might hope to be more successful. We accordingly set to work to force our way through the jungle towards the shore. Even with sharp axes we should have found some difficulty; but it was very heavy work with our knives. Still, it had to be done. Water was the first thing we required. We had progressed a hundred yards or less, though it had appeared to us upwards of a mile, when we heard close to us a peculiar cry, which sounded something like, “Wawk—wawk—wawk!—Wok—wok—wok!” loud and shrill above our heads. On looking up we caught sight of a magnificent bird, with rich crimson wings, and a long pendant tail like strips of satin. The head, and back, and shoulders were covered with the richest yellow, while the throat was of a deep metallic-green. The end of the side plumes had white points. I had little difficulty in recognising the bird of paradise, and I remembered Mr Hooker speaking of one which he called the red bird of paradise. This, I had little doubt, was the bird before us. Away he flew, however, followed by a smaller bird of a sombre brown plumage, which I could scarcely have supposed was his mate, had I not known that the wives of these gay-plumaged gentlemen are nearly always robed in Quaker-like simplicity. As he went, he appeared to be pecking away at the fruit of various trees over which he passed. It seemed surprising, too, that his long ribbon-like tail should have escaped catching in the thick foliage through which he rapidly flew. We, poor creatures, scrambling through the lower part of the forest, had a difficulty in making our way, without losing our close-fitting garments; indeed, as it was, they were sadly torn by the underwood. We were rewarded for our exertions, by reaching another hollow in which a number of the sago-palms grew.

The sago-palm has a creeping root-stem, like a nipa-palm, and Mr Hooker had told me that when it is nearly fifteen years old it sends up an immense terminal spike of flowers, after which it dies. It is not so tall as the cocoa-nut tree, but is thicker and larger. The mid-ribs of its immense leaves are twelve or fifteen feet long, and sometimes the lower part is as thick as a man’s leg. They are excessively light, consisting of a firm pith, covered with a hard rind. They are frequently used instead of bamboo; entire houses, indeed, are built of them. They serve for the roofs of houses, as also for the floors; and when pegged together, side by side, they form the centre part of the panels of frame houses. As they do not shrink, but look clean and nice, without requiring varnish, they serve better for walls and partitions than do ordinary boards. Boxes, also, are made of them; indeed, it would be difficult to describe the numberless uses to which they are put. The trunk, however, is the more valuable part, as the pith of the interior is the staple food of large numbers of the inhabitants of these regions. I will not stop here to describe how the sago is made; but I will do so shortly.

We again set to work with our bamboo spades, and dug away most energetically. Some moisture on the ground encouraged us to proceed, while the burning thirst from which we were suffering increased our anxiety for success. As we dug lower the ground became soft, and more and more moist, when Macco, putting down his hand, brought it up full of liquid mud. “Water come soon,” he exclaimed, digging away more energetically than before.

“Hurrah!” I shouted. “A spring! a spring! We are indeed lucky!”

“Let us rather say that God is merciful,” said Oliver, though in so low a voice that it seemed scarcely as if he intended me to hear him.

“You are right,” I answered; “I do feel grateful.” Some bamboos grew a short way off, and Macco, running to them, soon cut several pieces, leaving the knots at the ends to serve as bottoms; we thus in a few minutes were each supplied with a serviceable cup. By this time the thick mud had settled down, though the water was far from limpid. We each of us eagerly took a draught to quench our thirst. Thus, then, we were supplied with the first necessary of life. By this time we had all become very hungry; though we felt sure we could manufacture some sago out of the sago-palms, yet it would be a work of time. Our chief hope of obtaining food immediately was on the sea-shore—we might at all events find shell-fish. Macco told us he was sure he could manufacture some fishing-lines and hooks; the latter out of the bones of birds, and the lines from some of the numerous creepers with which the island abounded. While this was being done, however, we should be starved; we therefore made the best of our way round through the path we had already made to the shore. I had often thought the matter over, and I was sure that many persons had lost their lives from not immediately setting to work to try and find the means of subsistence. I had read of two parties being cast away on the same island at a short distance from each other: the one perishing; the other, from their energy and perseverance, existing for many months, and ultimately escaping.

Oliver needed no urging, and Macco especially seemed ready to exert his faculties in obtaining food. We looked along the beach, but the water was up, and no shells with live creatures in them could we find. There was no lack of empty shells, however, some of them of great size and beauty, such as would fetch a high price in England.

“They are of very little use to us,” I observed.

Macco heard me. “Not so sure of dat, Massa Walter,” he said, for I should remark that, having learned his English from Potto Jumbo, he spoke very much in his way. “Here dis big shell make good cook-pot; here clean out dis, make good cup; here plates, and here dis make good spoon,” and he picked up shells of different shapes.

“I wish, however, we could find something to put into them and cook,” I could not help saying.

Soon after, we had reached the beach where we had landed. We found the sand soft and fine. Macco looked about, and then exclaimed, “Ha, ha! here’s somet’ing;” and he began digging away with the bamboo spade. In a short time he produced a couple of turtle’s eggs: we hunted, and soon found several more. “Dese do till tide go down and we find shell-fish,” he observed.

Though very hungry, I had no fancy for eating turtle’s eggs raw. “We must try and find the means of lighting a fire,” I observed. “Do you think, Macco, you could produce a flame with two pieces of wood, as is done in some countries?”

“Not so sure,” he answered; “but if we had flint, I soon find pith to set on fire.”

From the character of the island, which appeared to be entirely volcanic, I had no hope of finding flints. Just then it flashed across me that a few days before I had been using a glass from my telescope as a burning-glass, and I recollected putting it in my pocket on being called off suddenly to attend to some duty; I had little hope, however, of finding it unbroken. I put my hands into my trowsers pockets, and then into my jacket pockets, but it was not there; neither was it in my waistcoat pockets, but there was a hole in one of them, and after feeling about, I found it had worked its way round into the corner of the waistcoat by my side. It had thus escaped being broken, or discovered by the Malays when they took away our money. I produced it with great satisfaction. Macco ran off immediately, and came back with some dried pith and a bundle of sticks. We soon produced a flame and had a fire burning. Macco then made a collection of round stones, which he put on the fire, at the same time filling one of the shells with water. “Too much water,” he observed, turning some of it out. He then transferred the hot stones to the water, which began bubbling and hissing as if it were boiling. “Put in the eggs,” he observed; “soon boil dem.” We followed his advice, and in four or five minutes the eggs were boiled thoroughly, quite as well as if they had been put into a pot on the fire. We had now no danger of starving, for the present at all events; and indeed, if we could manufacture the sago, we might supply ourselves with food sufficient to last for any length of time.

The tide had, meantime, been going out, and here and there where the rocks were exposed we caught sight of shell-fish. I, however, knowing even in that climate the danger of sleeping entirely exposed to the night air without a roof over the head, advised my companions at once to set to work and build a hut. We accordingly went back to the sago-palm grove, and cut down as many of the leaves as we could carry. With these we returned to the beach, on the highest part of which, just under the trees, we proposed putting up a temporary hut, till we could get a more permanent building. We soon had an edifice erected, something like a North American Indian wigwam, into which we could all creep and lie conveniently at full length. By this time the tide had gone down, and by crawling along the rocks, Macco was able to capture a number of shell-fish. This he did by cutting them off the rock with the bamboo spear: our only fear was lest they should be poisonous. We asked him what he thought about the matter. “All right,” he answered; “dem good for eat.” He had brought an ample supply for our supper; some were roasted, but others were boiled as we had done the turtle’s eggs. After this, commending ourselves to One whom we knew would watch over us, we lay down in our small hut to sleep.

The sun was just rising out of the horizon when we awoke; the sea was calm and blue, and the sky was beautifully clear. Our first discussion while at breakfast on turtle’s eggs, was the best means of manufacturing the sago. If we could get a tree cut down, there would not be much difficulty; but how to fell it with our clasp-knives was the question.

“Perseverance conquers all difficulties,” observed Oliver. “I remember the story of the mouse letting the lion out of the net by nibbling away at the meshes. We can work away at the stem with our knives, and do a little every day, in the meantime subsisting on the eggs and the shell-fish.”

“Yes, yes,” said Macco; “we choose small tree, enough for us to live on for many days, and we soon have him down.”

Before starting, however, the tide being still low, we collected a further supply of shell-fish. As we were proceeding along the beach, we saw, just rising as it were out of the water, a small ridge. “What can that be?” I said, drawing nearer to it. I saw, as I got close to the water’s edge, that it was a huge bivalve. As far as I could judge, it was alive. I called my companions, and catching hold of it, we dragged it up, though our united strength could with difficulty accomplish our object.

“Take care no put hand inside,” said Macco, “or he bite bery hard!”

I am certain that I am right when I say that it could not have weighed much less than a hundredweight. It would afford us not only one, but several meals probably, if the creature inside bore any proportion to his house. I did not know the name at the time, but I afterwards learned that it must have been a specimen of the Tridacna gigas. I have since heard that the shells themselves, without the mollusc, weigh even more than that; indeed, I afterwards saw some in use of larger size. Having captured our prize, however, we found that there was some chance of our not being able to get at the mollusc inside; for when the difficulty of opening an ordinary oyster-shell is remembered, the force required to get at the inside of so large a shell as this would be no easy task. It was important, however, to get the creature out at once, for if it were exposed to the sun, it would, in all probability, not be fit to eat by the evening. Macco, ever fertile in resource, ran off, and soon returned with a supply of bamboos, which he split up into fine long wedges. He hunted about on every side till he found a small opening; into this he instantly inserted the fine point of a piece of bamboo, and going round the shell, placed another in a similar position. There was no lack of pieces of coral rock lying about which had been broken off by the sea, and thrown up on the beach; these served as hammers. “Now,” he cried out, “strike! strike altogether!” We did so, but Oliver’s instrument and mine made no impression; Macco’s, however, went right in, and seemed to cut some part of the creature; for directly afterwards, by using the wedges as levers, we lifted up one of the valves, and exposed to view a huge mass of blubber-like flesh. Macco seemed highly delighted. “Dat bery good, bery good!” he exclaimed, and soon cut the whole away from the shell, and held it up to let the water run out.

“I should be very hungry before I could eat that,” I observed.

“Ah, Massa Walter,” he answered, “you will be bery hungry if you no eat dis, and many oder curious t’ings. De great t’ing is, if good to eat. If good, no mind looks; better to eat dis dan starve.”

With some powerful blows, he separated the two shells, and now begged us to carry them up to the hut. “Dey hold water,” he observed; “and we soon have all we want to live well.” Having made up the fire, he cut three very long bamboo stakes, with which he made a triangle over it, so high that the flames could not reach the poles to burn them. From the centre he hung down the huge mollusc, so that the smoke might circle round it. “Dere,” he said, “dis now dry, and keep well till we want eat it.”

Chapter Twelve.

Our life on the island.

The success we had already met with in finding food raised our spirits; but I knew the risk we should run of losing our health if we could not obtain vegetables was very great. I therefore urged my companions to set to work at once and try to get the sago manufactured.

“Come directly,” said Macco, collecting a quantity of half-dried leaves. These he placed on the fire. He then covered them up with green twigs, thereby preventing the flames bursting out, at the same time producing an abundant smoke. “Dere, dat do bery well,” he observed. “No creature come to carry off de fish, and he well dry when we come back.”

I cannot say I felt any great confidence in the success of his experiment; and I thought it of no great importance even should it fail, as I began to hope that we should have a sufficient supply of food. We soon found a palm of moderate dimensions, which we might hope, even with our knives, to cut down in the course of a day or two by working away assiduously. What, however, would take us several days, a sharp axe would accomplish almost in the course of almost as many minutes. However, we could all three work at once.

“You take one side, Oliver; Macco, you take another; and I will take a third,” I observed.

“Stay, Massa Walter,” he answered; “you no want to break head. Do dis first. You cut here; Oliver cut here; and I go make rope.”

Some ratans were growing not far off; he immediately began cutting them away, and having collected a large supply, twisted them ingeniously into a rope. Oliver and I had made apparently but little impression in the tree by the time he had done so. Taking the rope, he climbed up as before, to a considerable height, where he fastened it, and then carried the other end to another tree at some little distance, so that it might fall to the ground clear of its companions.

“Now,” he said, “do bery well;” and taking out his knife, he began to work away with great energy. So dexterously did he ply his instrument, that he soon had made almost as much impression as we had done, who had been working so much longer a time. The ratans I speak of, though allied to palms, are creepers. They grow from the ground, climbing up a tree, and then running along the branches, and descending again, mount up another tree, or sometimes climb from branch to branch. They often encircle a tree, which, in time, is completely destroyed; while they survive, forming an extraordinary intricate mass of natural cordage on the ground. In some places the original trunk had entirely disappeared, leaving only the ratan. They greatly ornament the forest as they hang in graceful festoons from branch to branch, or adorn their summits with feathery crowns of leaves, their highest points being erect leafy spikes which rise up above all the other foliage.

Macco had collected several lengths of this curious creeper, each perhaps of fifty fathoms; and having twisted them together, had formed a very strong rope. The natives make their cables of them, as well as the standing rigging of their masts; indeed, they are used for all sorts of stout cordage. While we were working away, looking up, I saw on the branch of a tree, at no great distance, as if watching our proceedings, an animal with a small head and very large bright eyes. He was covered, apparently, with very thick fur, and, I soon saw, had also a long tail, which was curled on a branch below him. As we did not move, he began eating away in a fearless manner the leaves from a branch which hung near his snout. He reminded me somewhat of the opossum, covered with thick, pure white fur, on which appeared a few black spots of various shapes. I pointed him out at length to Macco. “He good eat,” he whispered. “I catch him.” Several pieces of small ratan lay near us, and taking one of them, he formed a noose, with which in his hand he crept towards the tree. On considering what the animal could be, I recollected one called the cuscus, a picture of which I had seen in one of Mr Hooker’s books. “Yes, I am sure that must be a cuscus. It is a marsupial, or pouch-possessing animal, like the kangaroo,” I said to Oliver. Macco quickly climbed the tree, and reached a branch just above the cuscus. Not till then did the creature catch sight of him, and began moving along the branch, but at a very slow pace. Macco immediately climbed down towards us and followed it. Just, however, as he was approaching, cuscus let go his hold, hanging down by his tail. It was a fatal manoeuvre, for Macco’s noose was immediately let drop, and quickly drawn over the head of poor cuscus, who in vain tried to liberate himself with his claws. He was now a captive, and Macco, keeping the noose tight, descended the tree. Cuscus held on by his long prehensile tail; but Macco pulled and pulled, and down the animal came with a flop to the ground. His claws were so sharp, that it was rather difficult to take hold of him without the risk of being severely scratched. Macco called out to us to bring him one of the bamboo spears. With this he transfixed the poor creature to the ground; but even then it struggled, and not till he had made use of his knife, half severing the head from the body, did the creature die. It looked somewhat, in its white, woolly covering, like a small, fat lamb; but it had short legs, hand-like feet, with large claws.

“He make bery good dinner for us,” observed Macco. “No fear of our starving. Dat good t’ing.”

Oliver and I were very glad, and thanked him very much for catching the creature. However, I urged him to go back at once, that we might continue our work on the sago-tree, for I was sure that, though by eating flesh and fish we might support our lives, we should not retain our health without bread, or a substitute for it, which the sago would afford. From the height of the sun, in addition to the hints of our own appetites, we guessed that it was already past noon. We therefore proposed returning with the cuscus to our hut. Tying up the legs of our prize with the ratan, we passed a piece of bamboo through them, and took our way by the path we had cut to the beach. Our fire was out, and the number of flies collected round our mollusc made us doubtful whether we were not too late to preserve it from destruction.

“Soon drive dem away,” said Macco, and bringing fresh fuel, he piled it up under the triangle. “I get fire dis time,” he said. “I see man on board de prow do it de oder day.”

Taking a piece of bamboo sharpened like a knife in one hand, he held another piece in the other, split in two, with the convex part uppermost, in which he had cut a small notch. He began passing the sharp piece slowly over the other, as a fiddler does his bow over his fiddle—strings, increasing in rapidity, till, in a very short time, the powder produced by the friction ignited, and fell down upon the ashes. This he quickly blew up, and even more rapidly than I could have done with my burning-glass, a flame was produced. The smoke which ascended soon sent some of the flies to a distance, while the others fell down into the fire. This gave us a hint that we must not leave any of our food exposed, or that it would very quickly be destroyed.

“Cuscus better for dinner dan dis,” he said, for he had heard me name the creature; and he at once began to draw off the skin; then cutting some slices off the animal, he soon had them toasting on forked sticks before the fire.

“I wish I had some salt,” I observed, pointing to the large shell in which we had boiled our eggs. The water had evaporated, leaving the sides and stones covered with saline particles. By scraping this off, we had an ample supply of salt for our meat.

“It strikes me, Mr Walter,” said Oliver, “that we may be able to manufacture enough salt to preserve the animals we kill, for the time may come when we may not be able to obtain any, and possibly it might be a better way of preserving them than by drying them in the smoke.”

“In dry, cool weather we might do so,” I observed; “but in this hot climate I doubt whether we could get the salt in with sufficient rapidity to stop putrefaction. However, of course, it would assist in preserving the meat.”

“I am afraid you are right, Mr Walter,” he answered. “At all events, it is satisfactory to know that we can procure salt for our daily use.”

“Oliver,” I said, “I must ask a favour of you—it is, not to call me Mr Walter. A common misfortune has made us brothers, and as a brother, I am sure, I shall ever look upon you.”

“I will do what you wish,” said Oliver, “for I owe my life to you; yet, though I regard you as a brother, I do not feel myself your equal.”

“Do not talk of that, my dear fellow,” I said. “We will not bandy compliments. I should have been very miserable had I been left on this island by myself, or even with so honest a fellow as our dark-skinned friend here; for though we two might have been like Robinson Crusoe and his man Friday, I have often thought that Crusoe must have passed many dull and melancholy hours, without a companion with whom he could exchange ideas on equal terms.”

I felt much more at my ease after I had said this to Oliver. I had long looked upon him as a very superior lad. His earnest piety, his courage and his coolness, had made me greatly respect him. Had I been told to choose a companion in the situation in which I was placed, I certainly should have selected him. Our meal over, we went back to our sago-tree, and commenced our work. We made some progress, but still clasp-knives were very inadequate tools for the work we had undertaken. Every now and then, as we were labouring on silently, we heard the same cry of Wawk—wawk—wawk!—Wok—wok—wok! and caught sight of magnificent birds flitting among the higher branches of the trees, but so rapidly did they move, that we could scarcely distinguish their forms. We knew them, however, to be birds of paradise, which Mr Hooker had fully described to us. I knew from this that we must be on an island very close to the shores of New Guinea, as Mr Hooker had told me these birds are only found in that vast country, or in the surrounding islands. When Europeans first arrived at the Moluccas to obtain cloves and nutmegs, which were then supposed to be rare, and considered of great value, they saw, in the possession of the natives, dried skins of birds of beautiful plumage and unusual shape. On inquiring their name, they were told that they were God’s birds. As the bodies shown them had neither feet nor wings, they easily believed the story they heard, that they had fallen from the sun, and the Portuguese therefore called them birds of the sun. The Dutch, who came afterwards, gave them the name of birds of paradise. One of their early writers declared that no one had ever seen them alive, that they existed only in the air, invariably keeping their heads towards the sun, and never reaching earth till they died. Even as late as 1760 they were supposed to have no feet, and Linnaeus calls them footless birds of paradise. Another account says that they come to some of the spice islands of the East to eat nutmegs, which so intoxicate them, that they fall down senseless, and are then killed. Mr Hooker, however, assured me that they were found only in New Guinea, and in a few groups of islands in its immediate neighbourhood. There is a considerable number of species of this bird, all of which have a magnificent plumage. They are of moderate size, and are allied in their habits and structure to crows, starlings, and to the Australian honey-suckers. I longed to get some of these beautiful birds; but at present we had too much important work on which our existence might depend to allow me to make an attempt to obtain them.

We laboured on till the sun nearly reached the horizon, and then hurried back to our hut. As may be supposed, as we passed along the shore we took an anxious look-out in every direction to ascertain if any sail was in sight; but the distant horizon still remained unbroken, as it had been since the prow which had brought us to the island had disappeared across it.

I was still unwilling to attack the mollusc; but Macco, cutting off some slices, toasted them before the fire, and declared them very good. I preferred supping on the remainder of the turtle’s eggs, as did Oliver. He, however, tried a bit of the mollusc, but agreed that, unless more perfectly cooked, it was likely to prove very indigestible. Having finished our repast, we crept into our hut. I should have said we had strewn it thickly with leaves to serve as a mattress. The nights were warm, and as there was no wind, we required no covering beyond that afforded us by the roof. We agreed, however, that as soon as we could manufacture some sago, we would build a more substantial mansion, in which we might be able to live should the rains come on.

I cannot describe the incidents of each day; for having no note-book, they are somewhat mixed up in my memory. For two days we laboured on at the tree, and had now begun to make some progress. I became somewhat eager at length, and hacked away incautiously with my knife. In so doing, I caught it in the wood; and in drawing it out again, snapped the blade across. Here was indeed a misfortune.

“O Massa Walter,” exclaimed Macco, “dat bad!”

“It is indeed,” I said; “for though you and Oliver may in time get through the trunk with your knives, it will certainly take much longer.”

“Not so certain of dat,” said Macco. “An idea strike me. You take my knife—don’t break it, though—and I come back by-and-by and see what I can do.”

Saying this, he handed me his knife, and with greater caution I continued my task.

“We must be content to chop out a little at a time,” observed Oliver. “Perseverance will succeed in the end. It might even be done with a penknife, if we did not attempt to work too quickly.”

Macco, after being absent an hour, returned with several articles in his hand. One was a thick flat shell, something like an oyster-shell, only very much larger. He had also brought some pieces of wood, with some fibre to serve as string, and some small sticks of bamboo. He sat down near us, and taking the shell, formed with the bamboo a small drilling machine. With wonderful rapidity he worked away, drilling first one hole and then another in the shell, till he had formed a line completely across it. He now asked for his knife, and shaped away the wood he had brought. Placing two pieces, one on each side of the shell, with another at the back, he secured the whole together by means of the fibre, binding it round and round through the holes, till he had formed a serviceable-looking axe.

“Dere,” he said, lifting the weapon.

“Let me have it!” I exclaimed. “I will work away gladly with it.”

“No, no, Massa Walter,” he answered. “I make de axe, I use it; if you make it, you use it.”

Macco, lifting his newly-made axe, advanced to the tree, and began chopping away with careful and delicate strokes. He cut off only very thin slices at a time, but by degrees he increased the rapidity of his strokes, and I soon saw would produce far greater effect than we could do with our knives. When he stopped, we set to work again. By the end of the day, we calculated that we had got through more than half of the trunk. It showed, at all events, what perseverance could do; and in good spirits we returned to the shore. It was some time before sunset, but we were anxious to try and find some more turtles’ eggs. In vain, however, we searched; and thinking that we might possibly find some more further on, we continued our walk along the shore. We had gone some distance without meeting with any success, when, the brushwood appearing somewhat lighter, we determined to proceed a little way inland. We had not gone far when we found a large mound fully six feet high, and, I daresay, not less than twelve feet across. What it could be, we could not at first tell. It seemed as if a building of some sort had stood there, and the whole had tumbled down and been broken to atoms. We had our bamboo spades with us, so we took it into our heads to dig into the mound. It appeared to be composed, on examination, of dead leaves, stones, earth, and rotten wood, and sticks of all sorts—indeed, every variety of rubbish. At first I thought it might possibly be an ant’s nest, as I had read of the curious buildings formed by those creatures. I had begun on one side; but Oliver went to the very top, and began digging away. Macco could not assist us, as he said he had seen nothing of the sort before. One thing we were certain of, that the mound was artificial.

“I am afraid we are only wasting our time,” I observed; “and it will be better to go back to the shore to look for turtles’ eggs; and perhaps we may catch a turtle itself.”

I had already begun to walk away, expecting my companions to follow, when Oliver cried out, “Stay!—stay!—see here!” and he lifted up a large egg of a light brick-red colour, fully as large as that of a swan. I hurried back, and now, assisting him to dig, we uncovered a considerable number—two or three dozen at least. I now recollected having heard from Mr Hooker of a bird called the megapodius, which lays its eggs in large heaps. It is said that a number of birds make these mounds together. For this purpose they are furnished with large feet and long curved claws, to enable them to scrape up the dirt and rubbish. This they are supposed to do by labouring together; and they then, making a hole in the centre, lay their eggs in it and cover them up. The heat caused by the fermenting leaves is sufficient to hatch the eggs; and the young birds then work their own way out of the mound, and run off in a most independent manner into the woods, picking up their food as they go. They are quite independent of parental control, and seem at once to obtain all the knowledge they are ever likely to possess. We determined to watch for the birds themselves, when we had time, to learn more about them. Of the fact that they thus lay their eggs, we now had a very pleasant proof.

“Stay,” said Macco; “I make baskets to carry de eggs.”

Ascending a tall palm-tree, he cat from the top some fan like leaves, and descending, speedily wove them into three baskets, sufficient to carry away our prize. We left, however, a portion to be hatched, not liking to take the whole—indeed, there were more than we should probably require while they remained good. We had not got far with them, when a dreadful idea struck me.

“Suppose they are nearly hatched,” I said; “I am afraid they would be uneatable!”

Macco understood me, and laughed heartily. “Oh, dem bery good,” he answered. “Little bird better dan big, bird.”

However, I could not agree with him. To satisfy myself, I at once broke one. Greatly to my delight I found that it was perfectly fresh; and probably, had we approached the mound more cautiously, we might have found the parent birds in the neighbourhood, for it was evident that the eggs could only just have been laid.

As may be supposed, we made a hearty supper. On examining our larder, we found that the flesh of the cuscus was still perfectly fresh. At first I had some repugnance to eating a new animal. However, the steaks which Macco cut from the creature’s fat sides looked so tempting that I did not refuse the portion he offered me, and found it very delicate. As the eggs were more likely to keep than the flesh of the animal, we agreed to preserve it for our morning’s meal, cooking only one, which we divided amongst us. A couple we agreed would be sufficient for a hearty meal; indeed, one was almost enough to satisfy a moderate appetite. While we were eating it, we discussed the best plan for keeping our eggs.

“What do you say to trying to hatch some of them?” said Oliver. “We may then have some poultry about us, as I suppose, if we were to begin when the birds are first hatched, we might tame them, and then, in case of necessity, we may kill them for food.”

There appeared to be no great difficulty in imitating the parents’ way of building. We therefore constructed a mound, similar in character to the one we had discovered, and placed half-a-dozen eggs at the same depth that we had found them. And, as far as we could recollect, in the same position. The others were hung up in the air on the branch of a tree in baskets, that they might be kept as cool as possible, hoping thus that they would remain fit for food till they were exhausted.

“What cause we have to be thankful!” said Oliver. “See tow bountifully we are supplied with food; and the care thus taken of us by a kind Providence should make us trust that we may some day be rescued from our position, and restored to our friends.”

Chapter Thirteen.

The treasures of our island.

The next morning, as we took our way to the sago wood, our ears were saluted by the loud cries of some of the birds of paradise; and looking up, we saw a vast number of them collected on the tops of some lofty trees in the forest, having immense heads of wide-spreading branches with scanty foliage, though with large leaves. Suddenly the birds began to move about in the most extraordinary manner, stretching out their necks, raising their beautifully-tinted plumes, and elevating their wings, which they kept in a continual state of vibration. Now they flew from branch to branch backwards and forwards, so that the trees appeared filled with waving plumes, and every variety of form and colour. “Why, they are dancing in the air!” exclaimed Oliver; and truly it seemed as if they were expressly performing a dance for our entertainment. The wings appeared to be raised directly over the back. The head was stretched out, bending downwards; and the long hinder feathers were elevated and expanded, forming two superb golden fans, striped with deep red at the base, and fading away into the pale brown tint of the body. Their heads were yellow, their throat emerald-green—though even the bright tints were scarcely perceptible amid the rich golden glory which waved above them. They appeared to be of the size of crows, the bodies being of a rich coffee brown. Their long gold and orange feathers, which form their most conspicuous ornament, spring from the sides beneath each wing; and I found afterwards, when I examined one of the birds, that when in repose they are partly concealed by them.

We could scarcely move from the spot, so delighted were we with the beautiful appearance of these magnificent birds. Now and then, also, superb butterflies of gorgeous colours flew by us; while here and there, as the sunlight penetrated amongst the branches of the trees, we saw, creeping along the ground or up the stems, numbers of glittering beetles, of equally beautiful tints.

At length, however, we repaired to our sago-tree. Macco used his newly-formed axe with as much judgment as at first; we as before working away at intervals with our knives. At length he exclaimed, “Me t’ink tree fall now. You go to end of rope and haul, haul. Take care far enough off; and I cut, cut.”

Macco again shouted; and Oliver and I hauling with all our might, we saw the lofty tree bending forward. We ran back even further than was necessary, and down it came with a crash upon the ground, which echoed through the forest, and startled several creatures, which went flying or leaping, it seemed to us, among the branches or over the ground. One, however, in a little time came back again, and we saw a curious black face looking down upon us. “A monkey or baboon!” I cried out. A chattering cry was the answer, and the black face disappeared among the branches.

We could do little more towards preparing the sago that evening. On passing through a more open part of the forest, our eyes were gladdened by seeing some large fruit hanging from the top of some palm-trees. “Cocoa-nut!—cocoa-nut!” cried Macco. Yes; there was the long-coveted cocoa-nut; and apparently mature. Macco, as may be supposed, was very quickly at the top of the tree, and engaged in throwing down the nuts.

“Stay!” I cried out; “don’t pick more than are necessary, and we may have them fresh.”

We had soon torn off the fibrous covering, and knocked a hole in one of the eyes. How deliciously cool and sweet did the juice inside them taste!

“That is refreshing!” exclaimed Oliver. “I am glad we have begun on the sago-tree, or we might have been lazy, and not have taken the trouble to cut it down.”

“Yes, indeed,” I answered; “and remember the cocoa-nuts will only last for a time, whereas the sago will keep as long as we require it.” Here was another addition to our store of provisions, for which we had truly cause to be thankful.

Next morning we set to work to cut off the leaves and leaf-stalks, and we then took off a strip of bark from the upper part of the trunk. We now had the pithy matter exposed, which in the upper part is of snowy whiteness, and of the consistency of a hardish pear, with woody fibres running through it, a quarter of an inch from each other. We had seen, the pith removed by means of a club, with which it is pounded while still in the trunk. Our next work, accordingly, was to form a couple of clubs for the purpose. It was a difficult matter, however, to cut a piece of hard wood suitable for our object. After hunting about for some time, we could find nothing to suit us. At last it occurred to me that we might load the end of a stout piece of bamboo, which might, at all events, do better than nothing. We accordingly cut some pieces, and going to the shore, fixed in the bottom of each a lump of coral rock, which Macco managed to secure in a neat and at the same time thorough manner. With these we commenced operations, and though the process was slower than it might otherwise have been, we found that we could manage to beat out a considerable quantity of sago pith.

While Oliver and I were proceeding with this work, Macco who was far more ingenious than we were, commenced the operation of the washing machine. This he formed of the large sheathing bases of the leaves, in the shape of a trough. The object is to strain the sago pith. With the fibrous covering from the leaf-stalks of the cocoa-nuts he soon twisted a net-like strainer. The trough, I should say, is deep in the centre and very shallow at the end; thus the starch which is dissolved sinks down to the bottom of the trough, while the water runs away from the upper part. Macco made also some baskets out of the sheathing bases of the leaves, in which we might carry the sago.

We now set out with our materials to our spring. There was not as much water as we should have desired, but still it seemed to come bubbling up in sufficient quantity for our purpose, without fear of exhausting the supply. Macco, having formed a number of trestles of pieces of bamboo sticks, rested the trough between the forks, the straining place being placed on higher trestles than the strainer in the centre, so that the water might run down into the trough below. The strainer was now stretched across the upper part of the trough, and putting in our sago, Macco began to pour the water from the shell which he had brought for the purpose. We eagerly watched the process. In a short time a good deal of thick matter seemed to run off, leaving only refuse in the net. This refuse we threw aside, and supplied its place with fresh sago. This we continued doing till our trough was nearly full, and the water being allowed to run off, we found a fine mass of sago starch with a slightly red tinge. We now made this up into thick cylindrical masses, as we had seen done before, and covered them up with the sago leaves.

Truly thankful for our success, we carried off the sago we had thus manufactured to our encampment. We agreed, however, before commencing any other operation, to turn all the pith we had obtained into sago, as we might not otherwise have time to manufacture a further supply. Our difficulty was to cook it. We had seen it eaten boiled with water. It then forms a thick glutinous mass, and salt is mixed with it to give it flavour, as it is of a somewhat astringent taste. We tried boiling some in one of our shells; but before the sago was sufficiently boiled the shell caught fire. We, however, managed to eat it, and mixing it with salt, found it palatable. We then determined to try and make some bread of it. To do this, however, we had to build an oven. This, without difficulty, we formed in the earth. We then filled it with hot embers. Having pounded our sago in a shell, we mixed it with water, and made it into small cakes. These we placed on stones in the oven. In our first experiment we burned up our cakes, as we kept them too long in. We then agreed that we would try and make a baking-pan, such as we had seen formed. This is a square box made of clay, with several divisions, into each of which a cake is placed sideways. The difficulty, however, was to form this oven; and we agreed that we would try and find some clay and manufacture one. At the next attempt we kept the cakes in a much shorter time, and found them sufficiently palatable. We were occupied for more than a week in manufacturing our sago. It was probably very inferior to what is made by more experienced persons. At the same time it was wholesome, and would be a great addition to the animal food we were likely to procure.

One evening, as we approached our hut, after our day’s work was over, we heard a noise inside. We approached noiselessly, with our bamboo spears ready for use, thinking, probably, that wine animal had got inside. Just as we were within ten yards of the entrance, out popped a large black creature, which turned round chattering and grinning at us, and then bolted off as fast as it could, with a lump of sago in its paws. “Monkey! monkey!” cried Macco, giving chase with his spear. The creature was, however, I saw, a baboon, from having no tail, or an imperceptible tail if he had one, the part he turned towards us being bare of hair, and of a ruddy hue. He was far too nimble, however, even for Macco to overtake him, and up he sprang into a tree, going chattering among the branches, dropping the sago, however, in his flight. I recognised, as he turned round, the face I had seen watching us when we were making the sago.

We agreed that we must secure our provisions, or he, having discovered our store, would perhaps return with many companions to pilfer it. I heard afterwards that only one species of baboon is found thus far east, probably introduced by Malay seamen, who constantly carry baboons and monkeys on board their vessels. We agreed, indeed, that it was now time to begin a hut, in which we could sit more comfortably during the evening, and which would shelter us from the rains, which I knew were likely to occur before long. The rich vegetation which covered the island would not, I knew, exist, unless frequently watered by heavy showers.

We agreed to call our house Bamboo Villa. We first stuck into the ground a number of stout bamboos, and then secured, at about six feet from the ground, to the uprights, horizontally, some bamboos almost of the same thickness. These formed the beams on which we rested our floor. The floor was composed of the mid-ribs of the sago-palm, split in two, and supported beneath by poles. The sides were of the same material. Our work, the framework of which was of bamboo, was thatched with the smaller mid-ribs, and with the leaves of the sago-palm foliage, tied in bundles, side by side. These, however, being very thick, formed a covering which kept out the heat of the sun as well as the rain, a very important consideration in that climate. A ladder of bamboo enabled us to reach the door of our house.

In this abode we hoped better to preserve our provisions, and to be free also from insects or any reptiles which might exist on the island. We had frequently caught sight in the distance of creatures moving about among the thickly-growing trees, but had been unable to tell what they were. We had also seen movements amongst the dense mass of leaves which covered the ground, and had supposed them to be lizards and snakes, or other crawling things.

As soon as our house was finished we manufactured a sago oven, which we baked in the sun. It was, however, of a very fragile nature, and we feared would not answer very well for our cakes—to use it, indeed, we were obliged to increase its size. When all was ready, we prepared some cakes. This we did by drying the sago thoroughly in the sun, then pounding it in a shell into a fine powder. Keeping some of the powder to sprinkle the oven with, we made the rest into cakes. Having got the oven heated, we put in our baking-pan, with a piece of palm-leaf over it, and then closed up the hole with stones and earth. In a short time we again opened the mouth of the oven, when lo, and behold, our pan had burst asunder, and though the cakes were pretty well done, pieces of clay were sticking to them on every side. It took us some time to pick them out before the cakes were at all fit to eat; indeed, an epicure would certainly not have considered them palatable. What would we not have given for a good pot in which to boil our water, and a well-made pan for baking our cakes!

“There is no use wishing for them,” exclaimed Oliver; “we must make the best use of the materials at hand.”

We determined not to be defeated, and our next pan was made of clay, and strengthened with pieces of bamboo in the inside. We began baking it in the sun, and then carried it to our oven, which was only slightly heated. We then added more fuel, and closed it up. On opening it we only let in a little air at a time, and this allowed it to cool slowly. On taking it out, not a crack was perceptible. On examining it, when it was thoroughly cool, we had hopes that it would answer better than its predecessor. The next time we made some cakes we pounded some cocoa-nut with them. We then heated our oven, and put in our pan full of cakes. In about five or six minutes we again opened it, and drawing out the pan, we saw the cakes well cooked, and the pan unbroken.

We had been too busy to go hunting; but we determined, as soon as our house was completed in every respect, to do so systematically. We hoped to have no difficulty in procuring a cuscus occasionally, and as there were evidently many birds on the island, to trap them or kill them in some other way. We talked of forming cross-bows, and we hoped to find some elastic wood for the purpose. Still, we had a longing for vegetables. We found a delicate-looking plant, which had nothing suspicious about it, for I knew the appearance of several of the noxious plants. On digging down we discovered a root to it. Macco said he thought that it was wholesome, and volunteered to try it. We agreed that it would be better for one person to do so, and to take only a little at a time, that, should it have any bad qualities, we might discover them before serious injury was done to any of us. We accordingly boiled some in a shell with some hot stones, and Macco, taking a little, declared it very good. Next day he ate rather more of it, and in a short time took a considerable quantity mixed with some shell-fish, which we had just before procured. Its wholesome nature was now satisfactorily ascertained, and we had thus another article of food on which we could depend.

Among the many beautiful objects in our way were the groups of bamboos. Botanically, the bamboo is looked upon as grass, but, practically, it is a tree, as it sometimes attains the height of seventy or eighty feet. In many of the places we had visited we found the native huts built of it. For this purpose the people split it open, and press it out flat. To strengthen the walls, other perpendicular and horizontal pieces are fixed to it. The masts of small vessels are made of it, as well as spars, and drinking-cups and vessels of all sorts. The more savage tribes still make their weapons of bamboo, as, when slightly burned, a sharp edge like a knife can be given to it; indeed, the pointed end of a bamboo makes a formidable spear, which an unarmed man would not wish to encounter.

I cannot give a full account of our residence on the island. We were never without an ample supply of provisions, both vegetable and animal. A fortnight had passed since we had buried the eggs in the mound, and had almost forgotten all about them, when, as Oliver and I were seated in our hut, we heard Macco shouting out, “Come!—see! see!” We hurried out, and remarked a curious commotion on the top of the mound we had thrown up. Presently, one head popped out from the earth, and then another, and another, and a curious half-fledged bird emerged, and pointing its head inland, began to run away towards the wood. Macco made chase, and brought it back. We, in the meantime, seized the remainder of the little creatures as they emerged from their curious hatching-ground, and carried them off to the hut. They seemed very unwilling to stay there, till we placed some sago flour and other food before them. They instantly began pecking it up, as if they had been long accustomed to feeding. Nothing seemed to satisfy them, and we were surprised at the quantity of food they managed to swallow. I never saw such independent little creatures. It was satisfactory to know that we were not depriving an affectionate hen of her offspring. As we were anxious to preserve them, we made a pen of bamboo sticks closely stuck in the ground, in a circle of about a couple of yards in diameter. It took us some time to do this. As soon as the pen was finished we put the brush-turkeys—for such we supposed they were—inside it, throwing in at the same time a supply of food. The little creatures ran round and round, but finding they could not get out, began to peck away at the food. Supposing that, as they took to the woods, they would require some shelter, we threw in a quantity of leaves, and small branches, and twigs. Under these, when they could eat no more, they went to roost, apparently very well contented with their quarters.

Well satisfied with our success, we searched for some time, but without finding another mound; indeed, the birds which made them did not appear to be very common in the island. However, we could not make much way into the interior on account of the thick jungle, though here and there were a few open glades through which we could pass along with tolerable ease. We had reached one of these glades when we saw directly before us a brown animal jumping along over the ground. “A kangaroo! a kangaroo!” exclaimed Oliver. “It is so like the pictures of one.” We, of course, made chase, but the kangaroo—for a species of that animal it was—soon caught sight of us. Greatly to our surprise, however, when it came to the end of the glade, instead of forcing its way through the thicket, or turning round to stand at bay, it began to climb up the nearest tree. It did not climb very fast, however, and had we been somewhat nearer we might have struck it with our spears. By the time we got up it had climbed above our reach. I then remembered reading of a tree kangaroo which is supplied with powerful claws on the fore-feet. Once up in the tree, it did not appear to be much frightened at us, and we had time more particularly to observe it. It had a hairy tail, much finer than the ordinary kangaroo, and we observed as it went over the ground that it had not used it as a support, as the Australian kangaroo does.

Macco proposed climbing the tree to attack it, but we thought it would be dangerous for him to make the attempt, as the creature might seize him in its claws, and tear his skin. He laughed at the notion, and remarked, “If he do dat, he tumble down. No, no; you let me alone. You go away, I kill kangaroo!”

Saying this, he made a circuit through the thick forest, so as to get the tree between himself and the branch on which the kangaroo was sitting. We, meantime, retired down the glade. As soon as the animal saw that we were at a distance, he began tearing away the leaves from a branch and eating them voraciously. Macco, hanging the spear about his neck, climbed up a neighbouring tree, which was united to the one on which the kangaroo was sitting by a strong band of ratan. Along this, finding it secure, he cautiously climbed, till he gained a branch directly above the kangaroo. We watched him anxiously, afraid to move lest we should disturb the animal. He seemed to be considering whether his spear was long enough to reach it. Then we saw him cautiously stoop down over the branch. The moment the kangaroo stopped eating, he drew back and remained still as death. When the animal again commenced tearing off the twigs, he cautiously approached. At length he seemed satisfied that he was in a good position, and raising his spear, he darted it down directly on the animal’s neck. It must have pierced the spine, for the creature instantly dropped off the branch and lay without moving on the ground. We ran up as fast as our legs could carry us, but Macco was on the spot before us, and examining the creature. He seemed satisfied that it was perfectly dead. It had a graceful, mild-looking head, and, except in the points I have mentioned, was in all respects like an ordinary kangaroo, though not so large as the animals I had read of in Australia. It was indeed a prize to us, for we had not killed a cuscus for some time, and had been living on shell-fish, sago, and cocoa-nuts, with now and then a few turtle’s eggs. Fastening the legs of our prize round a piece of the universally useful bamboo, we bore it off in triumph to our mansion, and very soon had some delicious steaks cooking before our fire.

Chapter Fourteen.

Carried off by savages.

I do not know whether a more than usually substantial supper made us sleep sounder than we were wont to do, but the sun had already risen when, the next morning, I started up, hearing as I fancied some strange noises near us. My two companions were still asleep on their bamboo couches on either side of the hut. The noises seemed to me like human voices. Oliver and Macco must have heard them also, for directly afterwards they also started up, and looked about them with a somewhat startled expression of countenance.

We sprang to the door of the hut. On opening it, we saw directly below it a number of dark-skinned savages, almost destitute of clothing, some of them having huge black mop heads, while others had simply thick woolly hair. From this I knew them at once, as well as from their strongly-marked, ferocious features, to be Papuans, or inhabitants of New Guinea. They seemed as much surprised at seeing us as we were at seeing them, and shouted out to us in a language we of course could not understand. By their signs, however, we knew that they were telling us to come down to them. This, from their unprepossessing appearance, we were not well-disposed to do. Probably they supposed we possessed fire-arms, and were therefore unwilling to approach nearer. They had just landed, we knew, from seeing two long, low canoes with high stems and sterns rudely carved and surmounted by plumes of feathers. A row of mother-of-pearl shells apparently ornamented each side of the gunwale. The men were armed with bows and arrows and huge clubs. Some of them also had spears in their hands, but we saw no guns among them. This was satisfactory. However, from their numbers we knew too well that they could easily overpower us, if they had evil intentions.

Again they shouted to us, and we shouted in return, putting out our hands, and making other signs to show that we desired to be friends. They only answered by still louder shouts, some of them apparently laughing at our appearance. They now began to approach, one party coming up on one side, one on another, and a third in the centre. We still held our post, hoping that they might not come to extremities. We thought, too, that perhaps, seeing three people at the door, they might suppose others were within, and not be aware of how far superior they were in force to us. As they advanced they discovered our brush-turkey pen, and, greatly to our distress, some of them instantly stooped over, and began to seize the birds, and to fasten them by their legs round their waists. Others rushed at the body of the kangaroo, which hung by the legs to the branch of a tree, and immediately began cutting it up, each man appropriating a portion.

“I hope they will be content with robbing us, and go away,” said Oliver.

“I am afraid not,” I answered. “They will soon find how few we are to oppose them, and will not be content until they carry off everything we possess, even if they do not kill us. They mean mischief, depend on that.”

The savages having searched about, and finding nothing else on which to lay their hands, approached still nearer our hut.

“If they attack us we will sell our lives dearly,” I said to Oliver.

“I am afraid we must do so,” he answered. “I wish to fight for your sake, though for myself I scarcely think I should do so.”

Thinking that possibly, after all, they might go away without further molesting us, we lifted up our ladder and shut the door. Scarcely had we done so, than we felt the house violently shaken, and on looking out once more I found that a number of men had got hold of the posts on which it rested, and seemed attempting to shake it down. They shook, and shook, and shook; but it was so strongly secured in the ground, that their united strength could not pull it down. All the time they were shouting and crying to each other, every now and then giving way to hoarse laughter, which occasionally broke into shrieks of merriment. “Bery good fun for dem, but bad for us,” observed Macco, as the violent shocks made us expect every instant to be hurled to the ground. At length they stopped, and there was an ominous silence. We felt as people do during the lull of a hurricane, when they know it will come back with tenfold force. Presently we heard the savages crying out louder than ever, and directly afterwards thin wreaths of smoke began to ascend through the flooring. They were about, we dreaded, to burn us out. Soon the crackling flames ascended. We had no help for it; so, throwing open the door, we sprang to the ground. We were each of us instantly surrounded by a number of savages. One black fellow, with a huge head of frizzled-out hair, and a dark heavy club in his hand, seized hold of me, and I thought he was about to dash my brains out with his weapon. Others, in like manner caught my companions. I thought my last moment had come, and expected every instant to see my friends struck to the ground. No sooner had we jumped down than they began to rake out the fire and to pull down the burning portions, though they were only just in time to save the hut from destruction. Immediately a number of them rushed up, and began to bring out our stores of sago and dried mollusc, our cocoa-nuts, and other articles of food. They seemed well pleased with their prize. These they quickly divided among themselves.

The big man with a mop head now gave certain orders to several of his companions, who hurried off into the wood. They soon returned with some fine pieces of ratan, with which they immediately bound our arms behind us, and our legs so close together, that we could with difficulty walk. This being done, they all sat down and began to consume our provisions, a large portion of which they quickly devoured. On seeing water in one of our shells, they made signs to Macco to ask where we got it from, and ordered him to lead a party to the spot. Going to their canoes, they returned with a number of long jars and small casks, made of the thick ends of large bamboos. The savages had apparently touched at our island for the sake of getting food or water. Having supplied themselves with this necessary article, they unceremoniously dragged us on board their canoes. Oliver and I were taken to one, and poor Macco to the other. He looked very disconsolate when he saw that he was to be separated from us. I confess I felt very uncomfortable at the thoughts of being in their power, for I had heard that they were not only fierce and treacherous, but addicted to cannibalism, if they were not regular cannibals. Still Oliver and I agreed that we would endeavour to show no signs of fear. They seemed very well satisfied with the provisions with which our stores had supplied them. Before shoving off, however, a party of them again landed, and went to the cocoa-nut grove, of the produce of which they brought back a quantity. They now, getting out their paddles, began to glide away from the island where we had spent so many weeks. Looking back at it, we admired the numberless beauties it possessed—beauties which no change of season in that latitude could possibly mar. There was one enemy, however, which might quickly scatter destruction around. It was likely to proceed from the conical mountain in the centre of the island. Already there appeared to be a white smoke ascending from the summit.

“Perhaps, after all,” said Oliver, “we are taken away in time to be saved from destruction. See, our captors are watching the top of the mountain; they too seem to think that something is likely to happen. Let us be thankful, then, that we have been removed in time; for had the mountain burst forth while we were on the island, we could not possibly have escaped, if the lava or ashes had come down on our side of it.”

While he was speaking I was looking towards the mountain. Instead of the volumes of smoke which had hitherto been issuing forth, there spouted out a bright sheet of flame, which, expanding as it rose towards the sky, spread around like a vast fan, arching over and forming a canopy of fire above the island. Thus for an instant it hung suspended, threatening destruction to the smiling landscape below it. At the same moment sounds like the loudest peals of rolling thunder rent the air, almost deafening us with their roar. Even our captors, not unaccustomed to such a spectacle, stood aghast, clutching each other’s arms, and gazing with horror-stricken countenances at the mountain. “See, see!” cried Oliver; “how mercifully we have been preserved!”

Indeed we had; for down the mountain’s side, half covering it, flowed a river of burning liquid, setting fire to the trees and shrubs, the conflagration spreading far and wide, fanned by the breeze among the easily ignited timber, while from the sky above there rained down dense showers of glowing stones and hot cinders, till the late green island became enveloped in flame, amid which the tall palms waved to and fro, as if struggling to escape from impending destruction. At the same time, a shower of fine ashes began to fall on our heads. Thicker and thicker they came, obscuring the atmosphere, till we could merely distinguish the pyramid of fire with its fanlike summit, and the wide circle of leaping flames which raged around it. In a short time the canoe was thickly covered with ashes, which penetrated also through our clothes, and filled our ears and nostrils, making even breathing painful. The savages at length aroused themselves, and seizing their paddles, began with desperate strokes to urge their canoe away from the ill-fated island.

“O Walter, let us return thanks to our merciful Father in Heaven, that what we thought so great a misfortune has been the means of our preservation,” said Oliver; “and never let us mistrust the kind providence with which he watches over us.”

We knelt down in the bottom of the canoe, and I joined Oliver in the prayer he offered up, the savages looking at us with surprise, unable probably to comprehend in the remotest degree what we were about.

I should say that some time had been spent after the events I have briefly described had taken place. We had got to a distance from the burning island, and were once more in safety. Having become very hungry, we made signs to our captors that we should like to have some food. With a careless air they handed us some lumps of our own sago, and some pieces of cocoa-nut. We were compelled to take it, uncooked as it was; for though we showed by signs that we should like to have some bread made of it, they laughed at our request, and seemed to tell us that it was good enough for such white-skinned slaves as we were.

These New Guinea men had apparently been on a voyage to the northward, and were returning to their native land, which lay, we judged, somewhere to the south. We ate our hard sago-cake, which we could scarcely have got down without the aid of the cocoa-nut. We again made signs that we should like an entire cocoa-nut, that we might drink the juice. They pointed in return to the water alongside, and mockingly, by signs, intimated that we might drink that. In vain we entreated that they would give us some fresh water or a cocoa-nut. Our distress seemed to amuse them amazingly; for both, the chief and his men indulged in most uproarious shouts of laughter, rolling about as if they were thoroughly tipsy. At length, however, when they had amused themselves sufficiently at our expense, one of them threw a cocoa-nut, which hit Oliver on the head. He could not help exhibiting some signs of suffering, which made them again burst into fits of laughter; indeed, they appeared to be the merriest fellows, though savage in their merriment, that I had ever met with. The juice, however, which we got from the cocoa-nut, Oliver declared, made ample amends for the treatment we had received.

“I do not think they can intend to kill and eat us,” he observed, “or they would feed us better than they are doing. We must see how we can best win their good graces. If we could but do something to prove that we would be useful to them, we might obtain better treatment.”

“Very true,” I answered; “I will do my best to help you, if you can think of anything.”

We could distinguish Macco sitting near the stern of the other canoe by the different shape of his head, as well as by the seaman’s woollen shirt he wore. He seemed to be sitting quietly, as if listening to the conversation of those around him. However, it was not likely that he could comprehend anything of their language. Hour after hour the savages paddled on, till at length we approached some rocky islets, towards which they steered. Here they landed, and lighting a fire, rudely cooked the remainder of our kangaroo. Not till we petitioned very hard did they condescend to give us any portion of it. At length, however, they made signs that we might cut off what flesh we required, and we eagerly took advantage of the permission they granted. At the same time, finding a bamboo cask of water at hand, we soon drained its contents, and afterwards felt very much refreshed. The meal over, they again took to their canoes, and continued their voyage. How they could manage to cook their food on a long voyage, I could not discover. Oliver suggested that they perhaps lived on those occasions on cold provisions; indeed, their sago-cakes would provide them with sufficient food, if they ever did make long voyages, which, however, I suspected they did not.

At length, however, we got close in with the coast, which we took to be that of New Guinea. On either side, as far as the eye could reach, it was covered with tall forest trees and dense brushwood. They were considerably taller than those on our island—some of the most lofty being draped with festoons of the creeping ratans, which gave them a peculiarly graceful appearance. The sands, unlike many of those of the volcanic islands we had passed, were white and glittering, and the water of the most transparent nature, so that, looking over the side, we could see far down into the depths of the ocean. In the distant interior rose up ranges of lofty mountains, appearing one beyond another, and extending, till lost to view by distance, both to the north and south. Altogether the country appeared magnificent in the extreme. Under other circumstances I should have been delighted to visit it; but the idea of having to live among such fierce-looking savages was terrible, especially when we could not help thinking that if they did not kill and eat us, they would at all events make us labour as slaves.

Our captors, instead of landing, continued to proceed towards the south. As night approached, they ran into a little sandy bay, where, hauling up their canoes, which, notwithstanding their large size, were very light, they all assembled on shore. We were now on that mysterious coast of New Guinea. Macco was allowed to come near us. I asked him whether he thought we could manage to run away while our captors were asleep.

“Dey run faster dan we,” he answered, “and if dey catchy dey kill, and if dey kill dey eat. No, no, Massa Walter; we stay and try and make friends. I tell dem big ship come soon and bring cloth, and knives, and hatchets, and all sorts of good t’ings for dem, if dey no hurt us.”

How Macco had contrived to explain this I could not understand, but he seemed very confident that they had comprehended him. Some of the party, armed with bows and arrows, started away into the woods, while the others collected sticks and lighted a fire. The hunters soon returned, bringing with them a tree kangaroo and a cuscus, with several large bats. The latter creatures I had seen before, and heard them called flying-foxes. They were very ugly, and one of them; which I took up had a rank, powerful, foxy odour. One of the natives who saw me thought I was going to eat it raw, I suppose, for he shouted out, and I quickly dropped it. They immediately set to work to skin these creatures, and cutting them up, roasted them on sticks before the fire. Some rough sago, which they baked on the embers, was also produced.

We sat apart from them, and they commenced their feast without intending apparently to give us any. Macco, however, after waiting a few minutes, observed, “Dis no do;” and getting up, approached the savage-looking group. Pointing to his mouth, he quietly stooped down, and was carrying off one of the bats.

“No, no,” I shouted; “bring us a piece of kangaroo or the other animal.”

The savages looked somewhat astonished at his audacity, but yet no one prevented him. Throwing down the half-roasted bat, he placed several pieces of the other meat on leaves, which served them as plates, and came back to us with them in triumph. He then returned for some sago. With this food we made a tolerably hearty meal, and certainly felt our spirits a little the better for it. The savages then, again going into the thicket, brought out a number of bamboos, with some tall ferns, with which they constructed some rude huts, sufficient to hold all the party. We, imitating their example, did the same, and commending ourselves to Him who had hitherto so mercifully watched over us, lay down to sleep.

By dawn the next morning the savages were on foot, and having consumed the remains of their supper, began to shove off their boats. Macco managed to get hold of a little more sago and meat, with which we made a scanty breakfast. We were in hopes that they were going to leave us behind, but they had no such intentions; and as soon as the boats were in the water, their mop-headed chief made signs to us to go on board—an order we obeyed with as good a grace as we could command. The canoes paddled on the whole of the next day, the coast scenery being very similar to what we had previously passed. Towards evening we entered a large bay completely sheltered from the sea. On one side of it, towards which they directed their course, we came in sight of what appeared to be a village built out on the water.

Their dwellings, if such they were, were curious, dilapidated edifices. They stood on platforms supported by posts, placed apparently without any attempt at regularity. Many of the posts were twisted and crooked, and looked as if they were tumbling down. The houses were very low, the roofs being in the shape of boats turned bottom upwards. They were connected with the land by long rude bridges, which seemed as if they could scarcely support the weight of a person going over them. As we drew nearer, we saw that the fronts of these dwellings were ornamented with rude carving, sometimes of the human figure, such as the grossest savages alone could wish to exhibit. Under the roofs of the houses were hung as decorations rows of human skulls; trophies, we concluded, of their combats with neighbouring tribes.

The canoes were received with loud shouts from the inhabitants of the village, who came out on the platforms to welcome them, lowering down some roughly made ladders to enable them to ascend. Alongside the platforms were a number of canoes of various sizes, some capable only of containing one person, with outriggers to prevent them going over. Our captors made a sign to us to follow them, and we now had to stand in a row and be inspected by their friends. We were arranged on the platform, for the houses were far too low to allow of our standing upright in them.

Fierce as the savages looked, they were most of them remarkably fine men, tall and athletic. The women, however, except a few who appeared to be very young, were most unattractive. Their features were strongly-marked, and their dress coarse and disgusting. It consisted of stripes of palm-leaves, worn tightly round the body, and reaching to the knees, and dirty in the extreme. Their hair, frizzled-out, was tied in a huge bunch at the back of the head. We saw them, while they were talking and looking at us, forking it out with large wooden forks, having four or five prongs: indeed, an ordinary comb would have been of little service in such a mass of cranial vegetation. The women wore ear-rings and necklaces arranged in a variety of ways. Some of them had two necklaces, made of white beads or kangaroo teeth, which looked well on their dark glossy skins. The ear-rings were composed of thick silver or copper wire, in hoops, the ends crossing each other. Some of them had the ends of their necklaces attached to their ear-rings, and then looped up to the chignon behind, which had a very elegant appearance, if anything could look elegant on such unprepossessing dames.

The men had a far greater number of ornaments than the women, most of them composed of the teeth of small animals. They had finger-rings as well as necklaces and ear-rings, and also bracelets. Some, too, wore bands round the arm, just beneath the shoulder, with bunches of bright-coloured feathers or hair attached to them. Others, also, wore anklets and bands, made of shell or brass-wire, below the knee. All the chiefs, and those who wished to be exquisites, carried a huge forked comb, which they continually employed in passing through their hair, much as I have seen people with large whiskers keep pulling at them when they had nothing better to do.

We only hoped that our captors had formed a better opinion of us than we had of them. They appeared undecided what to do with us. At last, however, the chief, whom we called Frizzlepate, made us a sign to enter one of the houses, and pointed to a little box-like room, into which we could just manage to creep. The partition walls of the house were formed of a sort of thatch, and the only articles of furniture we saw within were rude wooden plates and basins, with one or two metal cooking-vessels apparently, and a number of baskets and mats. Their weapons were spears, bows, and clubs. The mats were evidently used for sleeping on. They were made of the broad leaves of the pandanus, sewn together, with their usual neatness, in three layers. One end is sewn-up, so that when used for sleeping it forms a kind of sack, serving at the same time for mattress and coverlid. We saw them also used in rainy weather, worn over the head, the sewn-up end being uppermost, serving thus the purpose of umbrella and greatcoat. Most of the men wore in their belts a chopping-knife and axe. Some of them had besides smaller knives, and a skin pouch, with a bamboo case, containing betel-root, tobacco, and lime. The mats, however, were certainly the most useful articles in their possession. They could be folded up in a very small space for travelling, both as a protection from rain and as bedding at night: indeed, they were equal in most respects to the Mackintosh rugs used by our officers in campaigning.

We were expecting to go supperless to our cramped-up bed, when a woman, with a more pleasing expression of countenance than most of those we had seen, came to our room with a basket containing some plantains and yams, with a few cooked fish. She signed to us to take the contents and give her back the basket, with which she immediately disappeared. Anxiety for the future would have kept us awake, had not our ears been assailed by the loud chattering and laughter of the natives in the hut in which we were located, as well as in those around us. Even in that small hut there must have been a dozen or twenty people, which was not surprising, if they were contented with the small space they had awarded us.

Chapter Fifteen.

Our adventures in New Guinea.

Next morning, at an early hour, the whole community was on foot. The men came out, and sat themselves down on their platforms, where they began to smoke very curious pipes, made of a single piece of wood, with an upright stalk under the bowl, which either rested on the ground or on their knees. The tube was at right angles with this, and the bowl shaped like a cup on the top of the stalk, a knot of wood at the outer end of the tube serving to balance it. The women were seen going along the beach to the shore, or descending into the small canoes, we concluded either to fish, or to collect limpets or other molluscs from the rocks for food. Not knowing exactly what to do, we got up and were about to follow them, when a shout from Prince Frizzlepate, as we now called him (for he seemed to be the chief of this delectable community), reached our ears. He made signs to us that we were to take two of the canoes and go into the bay to fish, as the women were doing.

“Dat bery good,” observed Macco. “Me know how to catch more fish dan dem.”

We found a number of lines, with hooks made of the bones of birds, hung up in the house. When we offered to take them, Prince Frizzlepate nodded his permission. Macco also borrowed one of their knives, with which to cut some shell-fish from the rocks to serve as bait. We had fortunately not consumed all our sago or fish; and these, hidden in our pockets, we took with us, for our masters apparently had no intention of providing us with food. We quickly got the bait, and, guided by Macco—he being in one of the canoes, and Oliver and I in the other—we paddled off to a point near where the women were fishing. Soon after we let down our lines, Macco hauled up a fine fish. He caught double as many as Oliver and I together.

We naturally talked of the possibility of making our escape in the canoe; but where to go to was the difficulty. We saw also that we were observed from the huts, a large canoe being apparently kept ready to make chase should we attempt to paddle off. After a little time, we ate the provisions we had brought with us, turning our backs towards the shore as we did so, for fear our masters might observe it. We were already beginning to practise some of the arts of slaves. Having caught a good supply of fish, we paddled back towards the shore.

“I vote we land on the beach, instead of going back to those dirty huts,” I observed. And Oliver agreed with me. Macco, however, seemed rather doubtful that we should bring down on our heads the displeasure of our masters. The women had landed some time before. Either the men were sleeping, or they did not think it worth while to call us, and, reaching the beach, we landed and hauled up our canoes.

Oliver proposed that we should light a fire and cook some of our fish. A flame was soon produced by Macco, in his usual way, with two pieces of bamboo; and we soon had our fish cooking before it. Having finished our meal, we walked a little way into the country. We had not gone far when we observed a small hut, raised from the ground, somewhat like those on the beach. Near it, leaning on a bank, we saw a woman who appeared very like the kind person who had brought us our provisions on the previous evening. She was stooping forward, with a small branch in her hand. On getting nearer, we saw that she was playing with a little child, who was seated in a large bivalve shell full of water. It made a magnificent bath for the little black fellow, and it was larger even than the shells we had found on our island, a magnificent, specimen of the Tridacna gigas. The woman was younger and far pleasanter-looking than most of the women in the huts.

“Yes, I am sure it is her,” said Oliver, when we approached. She seemed somewhat startled at seeing us, and instinctively lifted her little boy out of the bath, and held him, dripping as he was, in her arms. That did not signify, however, as she was clothed in very scanty garments. We stopped short, not further to alarm her; and then, recovering herself, she signed to us that we might come nearer. She pointed to the huts on the beach, and seemed to intimate that we had better go back, lest the chief should be angry at our wandering about the shore without his leave. She then patted us on our heads, which we took to signify that she wished us well. Of this, indeed, from her previous kind conduct, we had no doubt.

“We will give her some of our fish,” I said. “It will show her that we are grateful to her for her kindness.”

Macco, hearing my proposal, ran back to the boat, and returning with several fine fish, placed them at her feet. Having done this, we hurried back to the canoe, and paddled away to the huts. On climbing up the ladders, we found that the men had been sleeping, which had been the reason, probably, we had been allowed so much liberty. As we were bringing the fish up to the platform, the chief awoke, and seemed well pleased with our success, for he nodded his head, and graciously gave each of us a fish.

For two or three days we were sent out in the same manner, and each time Macco was successful. We, however, discussed all sorts of plans for making our escape; for although we were not especially ill-treated, we yet could not tell how soon the mood of our savage masters might change.

I was very anxious to see something of the interior. An opportunity arrived sooner than I had expected. Early one morning, the chief awoke us, and signified that he wanted us to attend him on shore. It appeared, that having found us so useful as fishermen, he expected that we should be equally successful as hunters. Having put bows and arrows into our hands, he signified that we should attend him. About a dozen men were collected together, armed also with bows and arrows and spears. On the ground were several baskets, and just as we were beginning to march, some of the men lifted them up, and, without asking our leave, strapped them on over our shoulders—an unmistakable hint that they expected us to carry them. I, feeling indignant at this proceeding, let the basket drop; on which the chief, casting an angry glance at me, gave me a blow across the shoulder with his spear, which made me feel so faint that I nearly fell to the ground. My companions wisely took the hint, and, just as they were about to follow my example, re-secured the baskets. I saw that there was no help for it; so, again lifting up mine, I followed the party as fast as I could.

“You see, Massa Walter,” observed Macco, “dem can make us do what dey like, so no use cry out. ‘Grin and bear it,’ as Potto Jumbo say to me bery often.”

As we passed through the forest we caught sight of numerous beautiful birds flying among the trees, and countless numbers of lovely butterflies flitting to and fro, and beetles crawling over the grass or climbing the trunks of the trees. “What would not Mr Hooker give to be here!” I could not help exclaiming.

I was going to put my foot on what I thought a large leaf, when I saw it suddenly rise and spring forward. A little way on I saw another creature—for a creature it was—of the same description; and, looking at it more narrowly, I saw that it was an enormous grasshopper. The wing covers, which were fully nine inches across, were of a fine green colour, looking exactly like one of the large shining leaves which hung from the trees above. The thorax was covered by a large triangular sheath of a horny nature. Its serrated edges, and a somewhat wavy hollow surface, with a line down the centre, made it also look very like a leaf. At a guess, for I could not measure it, I should say that it was between two and three inches long. The body was short, but the legs were very long and strongly spined. It did not move very fast, so that I could examine it easily. Though only at a very short distance, I could not have distinguished it from the number of fallen leaves among which it moved. Overhead were numbers of cockatoos, parrots, and other birds of gay plumage, while now and then we caught sight of a brush-turkey running along rapidly over the ground. Many of the butterflies we saw were of magnificent size, and all richly adorned with the most brilliant colours.

At length the savages stopped under some high trees with wide-spreading branches, though thinly clothed with leaves. Several of them then ascended, carrying with them bows, and a number of arrows with round weighted heads, while each man also carried a large piece of roughly-formed matting at his side. Ascending the trees, they stretched out the matting across the branches, just above a convenient fork on which they took their seats. In a short time, as the sun was tingeing the lofty tops of the trees, we heard the well-known sound of “Wawk—wawk—wawk!—Wok—wok—wok!” Soon afterwards we caught sight of a flight of the most magnificent birds of paradise assembled on the branches, and immediately they began the curious dance we had before seen, spreading out their brilliant feathers, which glittered like masses of gold thread in the sunlight above our heads. The hunters meantime lay hid under their palm-leaf shelter. Presently, one let fly an arrow, which stunned a bird, and it fell to the ground. Another and another arrow was shot, few failing to bring down a bird. The lovely creatures, unconscious of the fate of their companions, continued their dance, seeming too much interested in themselves to think of the rest. At length an arrow whizzed by one of the birds, which it failed to strike. This seemed to astonish the rest; and, looking about, it discovered one of the hunters. Immediately, with loud cries, the whole rose from the tree, and flew away with rapid wings from the spot. The savages then got down the tree to secure their prizes.

Satisfied with their success, they now took out some food, which they commenced eating. Macco, as before, in spite of their angry looks, carried off a small portion for us and himself. As soon as their meal was hastily concluded, they began cutting off the wings and feet of the birds. When the skin was taken off the body, a stout stick was run through it, coming out at the mouth. Round this a number of leaves, were stuffed, and the skin was then wrapped up in a palm-spathe. I saw at once how it was that the legend of their having no wings or feet had arisen. The beautiful flowing plumage appeared to great advantage, but the body, by this process, was greatly reduced and shortened, and gave a very erroneous idea of the real shape of the bird. While speaking of the birds of paradise, I should like to describe the great variety which exists. Those I have described are very different from the ordinary bird of paradise, with which ladies were accustomed to ornament their hats and bonnets. That is a very beautiful little bird, but not to be compared to the Great Paradise bird, or the Red Paradise bird, or the King Paradise bird, or, indeed, to several others which I saw brought from various parts of New Guinea, or from the neighbouring islands. One of the most curious and beautiful is the Red Paradise bird, which is said to be only found in the island of Waigiou. In the same island, another bird, called the Red Magnificent, is found.

The birds having been prepared for travelling, the savages now roused themselves, and signified to us that we must continue hunting. We kept close to Macco, knowing that he was more likely to be successful than we were. We urged him to try and get away from them, that we might be by ourselves.

“But we get lost; we no find our way back,” he answered.

“But I thought you were accustomed to your native forests, and that you could easily find your way,” I observed.

“Dis forest not like my forest,” he answered. “I dere know de signs. Here bery different. I live here one year, two year, and den I find my way about.”

“I thought you could find your way by instinct,” I said, “through the forest.”

“Macco not know what ’stinct mean,” he answered. “Me know de signs on de trees, de way de rivers run or de streams run, where de mountains are, where de sun rise, where de sun set. Den know de way.”

However we managed, while our masters started off in one direction, to take an opposite one; and before long, as we moved cautiously through the wood, we caught sight of a cuscus. Macco was quickly up a tree, and soon captured the poor beast. Not long after we came up with a tree kangaroo, to which we gave chase. We caught him as we had done the other on our island, and had now two animals to take to our masters. We hung them by their feet over a bamboo, and carried them along in the direction we believed would lead to the coast. We had gone some distance when we began to doubt whether we were going right. The forest was far too thick to allow us to get a glimpse of the sea, by which we might have guided our steps. At length, fatigued with carrying our heavy burden, we stopped to rest. On a piece of fallen timber on which we sat, I observed some curious flies with slender bodies, and wonderfully long legs, which raised their bodies high above the surface on which they stood; but the remarkable thing about them was the large horns which projected from below their eyes, very nearly as long as the animals themselves, something in shape like the horns of a stag. Their eyes were violet and green, and the bodies and legs yellowish brown, and their horns black. We had been silent for some time, each of us occupied in his own thoughts, when, looking up, we saw a long snouted animal approaching slowly and rubbing his nose into the soft ground as he advanced. “Pig, pig,” cried Macco, starting up and giving chase, spear in hand. The pig, however, was far too quick for him, more active considerably than the cuscus or the tree kangaroo, and though Macco ran fast, piggy, who knew the country, ran faster; and in a short time Macco returned, somewhat crestfallen at his want of success. “If we kill three animals dey tink we great hunters,” he exclaimed. “We look for another piggy, and try cachy.”

We now thought it time to continue our journey. We had not got far, however, when we heard shouts behind us, and turning round, we saw a number of black fellows, their countenances expressive of rage, pursuing us with clubs uplifted. To fly through that jungle would have been folly, so we stopped and faced the savages. I fully believed from their gestures that our last moments had arrived. They were within a dozen yards of us, and in another moment our brains would have been dashed out on the ground, when a cry was heard coming from one side, and in an instant afterwards a young woman burst through the thicket, and threw herself between us and our enemies. We recognised her as the kind person we had seen bathing her baby in the large shell. She held up a branch between us and the men, and appeared to be expostulating earnestly with them. She used much gesture and spoke with vehemence. Gradually their countenances somewhat calmed, and their clubs, which had been raised, slowly descended to the ground. As they stood leaning on them she pointed to the animals we had killed. Macco had been watching both parties attentively.

“Dey tink we run away. She say no,” he observed. “We take dem and give dem to her.”

On this we lifted up the kangaroo and cuscus, which we had placed behind the trunk of a tree, and exhibited them to the savages, laying them afterwards at the feet of the young female; I cannot say our fair friend, for she was almost as dark as a sloe berry. We then lifted them up again, and inquired of her by signs what we were to do with them. She told us in the same dumb language that we were to accompany her, and pointing to the path up which we had come, she bade us go before, walking herself between us and the men, as if to protect us from them. We went on and on, and now found from the time we took to reach her hut, that we must have been going inland instead of towards the village on the sea-shore. This naturally made the savages suppose we were attempting to run away.

On arriving at the hut she again addressed the men, who thereon began to cut up the animals.

They carried away the whole of the cuscus and part of the kangaroo. The other part we supposed she had claimed as her perquisite. She then made signs to us that we were to remain. Who she was we could not tell, but we concluded that she was a chief’s daughter, or, at all events, a person of great influence and probably of rank among them. As soon as the men had gone, she lighted a fire and cooked the remaining part of the kangaroo, placing a savoury piece before us on some palm-leaves, to which she added some well-made cakes of sago, far superior in flavour to those we had manufactured.

She now signified to us that we were to build a hut for ourselves in which to pass the night, and took us to a spot where we found an abundance of bamboos, and the large palm leave? I have before described. She seemed much amused at our awkwardness in putting up the building, and quickly set to work to show us the way, so that in a short time we had a comfortable little hut for a sleeping place.

“I wish we knew her name!” observed Oliver. “I have often read of acts like these, and of the way in which women have saved the lives of people as, I am sure, she has done ours. They are the same all the world over. We have now a proof of it.”

We were in hopes that after this we should be employed entirely by the kind lady, for lady she was in her look and manner, though she had but few garments and no ornaments.

The next day, however, Prince Frizzlepate made his appearance, and ordered us to go off fishing. She nodded to us as much as to tell us that we had better do so, and accordingly we entered the canoes which we had used before. We had even more than our usual success, and returned with a number of fine fish. On landing we took up the finest to our friend.

“I have thought of a name for her,” I exclaimed, as we walked along. “I remember reading of a Princess Serena of some island in the Pacific, and I doubt if she could have been more amiable than this lady; so I propose we call her Princess Serena.”

Oliver agreed with me. Macco only grinned. Probably he saw nothing like a princess about her—only a kind-hearted girl, who had taken compassion on three unfortunate strangers.

We presented our fish in due form to the princess, and she graciously received them, being indeed highly pleased with the present. With the remainder we returned to our masters. They received the fish as a matter of course, not deigning in any way to thank us. Without asking their leave we slipped back into our canoes, and paddled away towards the hut of the princess. The men called after us, but we pretended not to hear them, and were soon afterwards seated round a fire roasting several fish we had lately caught.

For several days we were employed in the same manner. At length, however, the fish would not bite, or they had left the bay—at all events, we caught but few. Each time we returned we were received with scowling looks by our masters; and it was very evident that though their disposition towards us had been far from amiable when we first encountered them, it was now considerably worse.

Chapter Sixteen.

Our perilous escape.

We had returned one evening from an unsuccessful fishing. When we reached the hut we found the Princess Serena in an evident state of agitation. Looking cautiously around, she made signs to us that some one was about to kill us, lifting up her hands as if they were holding a club for the purpose of breaking our heads. There was no mistaking the signs. We inquired of her what we were to do. She stopped to consider, first pointing to the canoes. Then she seemed to advise a different plan. Hurrying into her house, she brought us out some bows, and a considerable supply of arrows. She then went in, and returned with three baskets, which she showed us were full of sago, as also some dried fish. She then made signs to us to eat as much as we could, putting some kangaroo meat and sago-cakes before us.

We followed her advice. As soon as we had finished, going into her hut, she returned with her child in her arms, wrapped up in a piece of matting, which was secured round her waist, assisting to support the little creature. She then beckoned to us to follow her. We did so in Indian file, proceeding along the coast towards the south. As soon as we had got well out of sight of the village, she led us along the beach close to the water, where the tide would obliterate our footmarks. The moon soon rose, and gave us ample light to see our way. It was a lovely night. The water rippled brightly on the sand, while the moonbeams played softly over the calm ocean. On the other side rose up the dark forests with their curious tracery of creepers. Here and there our feet struck against shells of rare beauty, such as would delight a collector in England. Just then, however, we thought of little but making our way as rapidly as we could from our captors. I asked Macco if he could make out where the princess was leading us.

“Not know,” he answered. “S’pose to friends.”

“I suspect,” observed Oliver, “that, from her appearance, she belongs to some other tribe, and has been married to the chief of the people who captured us, and that she is going to take us to her own relations.”

This seemed the most probable explanation of her conduct.

“She can scarcely wish to lead us away, and then leave us to our own devices,” said I. “Perhaps she thinks we are such good hunters that we should be able to support ourselves.”

We travelled on the whole night as rapidly as we could move, close to the edge of the water, which, rising, soon covered the impress of our feet. Just before the sun rose, a thick mist came over the land, completely hiding all objects, except those in our immediate neighbourhood. Still the princess led on. Daylight at length stole over the world; but the mist yet hung down upon us as much as ever. Our conductress at length stopped. She was evidently somewhat weary, and although Macco offered to carry her child, she would not allow it out of her arms. She now made signs that we had better rest, putting her head upon her hands as if to go to sleep. We were too glad to follow her advice, for having been on foot the whole of the previous day, we were completely worn out, and could not have gone many miles further. In spite of the exercise we had taken, the damp air made us feel very cold. She observed that we shivered, and instantly leading the way into the woods, took us to a place where we could cut a quantity of long leaves—a sort of fern, apparently, of gigantic size. With these, she intimated, we could cover ourselves up while we slept, pointing to a sheltered place under a bank which had been worn away into a sort of cavern.

I suppose we had slept some time, though we felt very unwilling to get up when the princess roused us, and made us understand that we should take some food, and then proceed on our journey. We, of course, obeyed her implicitly, and we proceeded on as we had done during the night. Several times, when we came to an elevation of any sort, she looked back, examining the line of coast along which we had come, as if to ascertain whether we were pursued. Then, again, she came down with a look of satisfaction on her countenance, and proceeded on as before. It was towards the afternoon when she again stopped, the ground before us rising, and jutting out into the sea, forming a lofty headland. She now led the way inland, and showed us another hollow, signifying by her gestures that she wished us to occupy it. As we, however, felt anxious to explore the country, we continued wandering about. This seemed to cause her much annoyance. First she caught hold of Oliver and led him back, and then me, and then ran after Macco. At length, observing that we did not seem disposed to keep quiet, she came and took me by the hand, and led me cautiously up towards the top of the height, looking round on either side, and keeping as much as possible under cover. On reaching the summit, she pointed down below, where I saw, in a sheltered bay, another collection of huts somewhat similar to the one we had left. This at once accounted for her unwillingness to allow us to wander about, lest we should be seen by the inhabitants. I expressed my thanks to her as well as I could, and at once returned to the cavern.

She now, as before, made us collect a supply of fern leaves, as well as a number of branches; and we having again taken some food, she covered us up inside the cavern, fastening the branches in front, so as to conceal the entrance, she herself going to a little distance, and sitting down under a bank with her child. As we had had but little rest the previous morning, we quickly fell asleep.

The shades of night had again stolen over the world, when we heard the gentle voice of our conductress calling us; and once more she set out, we following her in Indian file as before. We made a circuit, apparently to avoid the village, and then descended to the sea-shore. All night long, indeed, we went on. The journey was almost a repetition of that of the previous night. The moon was still shining brightly over the waters, when Macco uttered an exclamation of surprise, and putting his hand on my shoulder, cried out,—“O Massa Walter, look dere!”

He pointed seaward, and there, just under the moonbeams, I caught sight of a white object. I looked more and more earnestly. Yes, I was almost convinced that it was the sail of a vessel. The shape of her canvas convinced me that she must be European, and not one of the mat-sail craft of those seas. Oliver thought I was right also. “Yes, yes!” exclaimed Macco; “no doubt, dat brig!”

Our conductress stopped when she heard our exclamations, and also looked towards the sea. The vessel was standing towards the south, the direction we were going. I observed that she walked, after this, more slowly, as if her thoughts were engaged on some matter of importance.

“Oh, if we could but manage to get off to her, or make some signal!” I exclaimed.

“I am afraid that will be very difficult,” said Oliver.

As may be supposed, our thoughts were occupied after this with all sorts of plans for getting off to the vessel. The fog, however, which constantly comes over the land before sunrise, concealed her entirely from our sight. We rested, by the desire of the princess, among some fallen trees in the forest, she having examined the place first, apparently to ascertain if there were any snakes, or other creatures, to hurt us. We, however, could scarcely go to sleep for thinking of how we could reach the vessel we had seen. Still, sleep at length overcame us.

We were awoke by the voice of the princess, evidently in a state of great agitation. Pointing to the sea-shore, she led the way there. She took us down to the beach of a small bay, in which a canoe was hauled up. It was barely sufficient to hold two people, and would certainly not contain three.

“Jump in, Massa Walter—jump in, Oliver!” exclaimed Macco. “Shove off; me find other canoe, and follow.”

Though it was broad daylight, the mist still hung over the ocean, and we could not see to any distance. The princess urged us by her gestures to follow the advice which Macco gave us.

“But where is there another canoe?” I asked, not seeing one near.

“Never mind, Massa Walter,” he answered; “shove off—shove off, I say;” and running the canoe down to the water, he forced us both into it, putting a paddle into the hand of each. “Dere, dere, you go off; I come off in ’noder canoe! Go, go! I say, go!”

Hitherto we had been unable to ascertain the cause of the alarm exhibited by the princess. At that moment we learned it too well, by hearing some shouts in the distance. They became louder and louder, and as they did so, her agitation increased. We endeavoured to thank her for her kindness, but she seemed too anxious to get us off to take any notice of our gestures. Trusting that we might discover the brig we had seen on the previous night, we paddled away with might and main. My heart misgave me, though, as to what would become of Macco. We saw him still on the beach waving an adieu, till both his form and that of the princess were almost hidden by the mist. The shouts increased in loudness, and just then, glancing over our shoulders, we saw a number of gigantic looking forms—gigantic they looked through the mist—rushing down with uplifted clubs towards where our friends were standing. Life was sweet to us; we could not help our friends, and we paddled away. A shriek reached our ears, but the shadowy forms were no longer visible—indeed, the whole land was concealed by the mist. On we paddled for our lives. Every instant we expected to be pursued, for though our canoe was the only one we had seen, we could not help fearing that there must be others in the neighbourhood, into which the savages would certainly get, and come in chase of us. As far as we could judge, we were pulling directly out to sea. The shouts had died away. They had assisted us somewhat in directing our course through the mist. We again heard them; they seemed to be approaching.

“We are pursued,” cried Oliver.

“Then we must pull away faster,” said I.

Again louder and louder grew the shouts. Our hopes of escape began to vanish.

“I am afraid we shall again be made prisoners,” I observed to Oliver.

“Don’t let us despair,” he answered. “We have been preserved hitherto. The same Power can still take care of us. See, see! What is that?” Just then, the mist breaking, we saw appearing above it the topgallant sails of a square-rigged vessel.

“The brig, the brig!” I shouted.

We paddled on with redoubled vigour. She was still at a considerable distance. Behind us rose the fierce cries of the savages. The surface of the water, which had hitherto been calm, now became somewhat agitated. The mist rose. Before us appeared the brig, and turning round our heads, we saw at almost an equal distance a couple of canoes. On we dashed, shouting at the same time at the top of our voices. The people on board the brig apparently heard us, for a boat was lowered. The wind was moderate; but still a heavy surf rolled in on the shore. At that moment the fragile canoe was lifted up by a sea, and then down she came upon a bed of rocks, almost splitting in two.

“On, on!” I cried to Oliver, throwing off my jacket; “we must swim for it!” and seizing him by the arm, I helped him to wade across the reef, and then plunging into the sea, we swam off towards the boat. Her crew perceived our danger, and with sturdy strokes pulled towards us. A glance I cast behind showed me that one of the canoes of the savages had met with the same accident that we had, and several dark heads were seen floating in the water, and getting fearfully near us. One of our pursuers, I saw, held a club in his hand. Had I been alone, I might easily have kept ahead of the savages, as we had so much the start of them; but Oliver not being so good a swimmer as I was, made but slow progress. The other canoe, avoiding the reef on which we had struck, made for an opening in it, and was only a short distance behind the swimmers. I looked up. Oh, how long the boat appeared to be coming! Still she was coming; and I urged Oliver to persevere. He redoubled his efforts. How grateful I felt when at length the boat reached us. I looked up, and there I saw the countenance of Dick Tarbox, of Roger Trew, and the dark features of Potto Jumbo, expanded by excitement in the most wonderful manner. There also were several others of my shipmates. Was it a dream, or was it a reality? For an instant I thought the whole must be a strange dream. Still, no, it must be a reality, I said to myself; and crying out, urged my friends to take Oliver on board, I meantime treading water alongside. They lifted him up, and had just time to stow him in the bottom of the boat, when the savages were upon us. One fierce fellow was close to me with uplifted dagger. Roger Trew knocked it out of his hand with his oar, which the savage then seized. Another savage was coming on with his club raised in one hand, while with the other he tried to catch the stem of the boat, when Dick Tarbox came down on his cranium with the blade of an oar with such force, that the savage sunk beneath the sea. The others, meantime, began to let fly their arrows; but Tarbox, settling the other man who had hold of Roger’s oar, in the same way as he had done the first, and I being taken on board, the boat pulled rapidly towards the brig.

I still could scarcely believe that I was not dreaming. “What!” I exclaimed, looking up at Tarbox, “are you really alive, or is this all fancy? I thought you were all lost when the mast went over.”

“It is no fancy, but we are all alive and jolly,” answered Tarbox. “Thank Heaven, Roger Trew and I, and a few others of us, were able to cling on to the mast. We thought you had been lost; and thankful I am to find that we were wrong about you, as you were about us.”

However, as may be supposed, there was no time to ask questions or get answers. I was satisfied that I was really awake, and had providentially escaped from the savages. The brig, for fear of the reefs, had been unable to get nearer. Numerous other canoes were seen coming off from the shore. The savages appeared determined to recapture us; and, perhaps, finding that the brig did not fire, hoped to take her also. Before, however, they could reach the boat, we were alongside.

I quickly sprang up on deck, and there, with open arms, stood to welcome me, my dear sister Emily. Grace and Mr Hooker were behind her. They greeted me cordially. As may be supposed, they had many questions to ask me, and so had I to ask them. The brig, I found, had been fitted up by Mr Hooker and Captain Davenport. The captain, I was sorry to hear, was unable to come in her, and Mrs Davenport had remained behind at Ternate to nurse him. Mr Thudicumb had come in command, with those of the crew of the Bussorah Merchant who had been left on shore.

The captain’s object was to search for his lost ship. Mr Hooker had the same object in view, as also to examine the various islands we were likely to call at, for the sake of gaining information in natural history. Emily had entreated to be allowed to come; and the captain, after some hesitation, thinking that his daughter’s health might be benefited by the voyage, allowed her to accompany Grace. An old Dutch woman, Frau Ursula she was called, who spoke a little English, and to whom I was presently introduced, came as a sort of nurse, or governante.

The savages meantime were approaching; and Mr Thudicumb and his men were making preparations for their reception, getting all the arms on board loaded, including a couple of small brass swivel guns and two six-pounders, which we carried on our quarters for making signals. The land-breeze, however, freshened considerably, just before the leading canoes got within bow-shot.

“Don’t fire, Thudicumb, as long as we can help it,” said Mr Hooker. “I have no wish to injure these poor savages; and if we can avoid doing so, it will be much better, both for ourselves and for any who may come after us. I believe that many of the murders which have been committed by the savages, on these and other coasts, have been caused by some insult or injury, first inflicted by the white men, and they have simply retaliated, fully believing themselves justified in so doing.”

The sails were trimmed, and away we stood from the coast. I seized a glass, and tried to examine the shore, in the hope of seeing either our kind protectress or Macco; but neither were visible, and it seemed too likely that both had been killed by the savages. When I had time to tell Mr Hooker about Macco, he proposed standing back to try and hear something of him, and to bring him off if he had escaped. The savages, finding they could not overtake us, at length pulled back to the shore.

“And now, my good boys,” said Mr Hooker, “you may as well rig yourselves decently. You have been living so long among savages, that you are scarcely aware of the uncivilised figure you cut.”

I had nearly forgotten my scanty garments in the excitement of what was taking place. Mr Hookers shirts were certainly rather large for Oliver or me; but he insisted on our taking one apiece, as also a pair of duck-trowsers. “I have no doubt that Roger Trew, and one of the other men, will cut a pair for you into proper dimensions by to-morrow,” he said, laughing, as he handed us the garments. Some spare jackets, which more nearly fitted us, were found among the men’s things; and we were thus able to appear in the cabin in rather more civilised costume than we had come off in, and be presented to the Frau. She was a somewhat portly dame, with a most good-humoured countenance, her little round blue eyes appearing to be always laughing, while her mouth was constantly wreathed in what Mr Hooker used to call full-blown smiles. She had kind, sympathising feelings, and wept heartily when she heard of the fate of the Princess Serena, which we described to her. Emily and Grace, too, were much moved by it, and very sorry to hear that the faithful Macco had also too probably lost his life in his anxiety to save ours.

“I am so glad to see you, Massa Walter,” said Potto Jumbo, as he shook my hand when I went forward to the caboose, in which, in spite of its small size, he appeared quite as happy as in the large one on board the Bussorah Merchant; “only bery sorry to lose cook-mate. Poor Macco! He bery good cook-mate!”

“Yes, indeed; he was a very excellent and sensible fellow,” I observed. “I trust he may have escaped, and that we may get him on board again.”

I could not bear the idea of thinking that poor Macco had been murdered. Potto Jumbo, however, said he had very little hopes on the subject, as evidently, from the conduct of the savages, they were fierce, revengeful fellows, and were certain to have wreaked their vengeance on those who were still in their power.

Next day, we again stood in towards the coast, with a white flag flying, hoping that the savages might understand it. No canoes, however, came off. In my eagerness to try and recover Macco, I volunteered to go off in a boat; but to this Mr Thudicumb would not consent. He said he was sure that the savages would pursue us; and that the only two boats we had in the brig were too heavy to give us any chance of escape. I scanned the coast with a telescope all day long, on the chance of seeing some signal from the shore, but none appeared; and at length, with much sorrow, I gave up all expectation of recovering poor Macco.

The brig then made sail to the southward, to visit the Aru Islands, which Mr Hooker was desirous of exploring. Some time passed before I had an opportunity of asking Dick Tarbox how he and his companions had escaped.

“Why, you see, Master Walter,” he said, “after supper that day, some of us old hands thought of putting some biscuits and ham in our pockets, though we did not remember them till we were beginning to get very peckish. When the mast fell, we still clung to it, except two poor fellows, who were washed off much at the time that you were; and as they have not turned up, I am afraid they must have perished. The rest of us clung on for dear life. As you remember, soon afterwards the sea went down, and we were able to stand up on the mast and look about us. It was now we recollected the food we had stuffed into our pockets, and lucky it was that we had done so, or we should have been starved: as it was, we nearly died of thirst. Still, though we had a hard matter to get the food down, with our throats so dry, yet we did manage it, and held on to dear life. We were, howsomedever, almost giving up, when we caught sight of a sail coming over the water to us. She was a native craft; but whether or not the people on board her might knock us on the head, we could not tell. Still, anything was better than staying where we were. We had not our choice, though, for the people aboard the prow caught sight of us, and came up to the mast. They were pretty peaceable-looking fellows, though their skins were brown enough. We managed to make them understand that our ship had been cast away: indeed, our mast showed them that; and we were not long in tumbling on board, and making our salaams to an old chap, who seemed to be their captain. He was rather vexed when he could not understand what we said, or we understand what he said to us. However, he observed that we might rig ourselves in mats while our clothes were drying, and had some dishes of rice and smoked fish put before us. When the sea went down, they got out their sweeps, and pulled round where they supposed the ship had struck, in the hopes of getting something up from her; and there were some fellows on board who seemed to be well up to diving. However, they were not successful; and suddenly they got out their sweeps, and pulled away to the northward. A strange sail which appeared some little way off was, we supposed, the cause of their doing this. Probably they took her for a pirate.”

“Very likely that was the craft we were on board,” I observed. “It would have been curious if we had come up with you.”

“Well, for your sakes, I am rather glad you did not,” said the boatswain. “In a little time, our friends, who seemed bound to a distance, began to think that our room would be pleasanter than our company. They had a strange cargo on board,—bales of that nasty-looking stuff, the sea-slug, and birds’ nests, and mother-of-pearl shell, and I do not know how many other odd things. Two or three days afterwards, coming in sight of an island, they quietly made signs to us to get into a boat; and though we at first talked of showing fight, and declaring we would do no such thing, yet at last we agreed, seeing we had no arms to fight with except our fists, that it would be better to obey. To make a long story short, we were shoved on shore on a desolate island; we supposing that we were to find some houses, and people to look after us, but not a human being or a hut could we discover. There was water and there were cocoa-nuts; and as we had our knives, we had a chance of getting some shell-fish, if we could not find anything else. Now, as it happened, not one of us had been on a desolate island before; and there we were, six stout fellows, very little better off than babes in the wood. We had short commons, I can tell you, Master Walter. There were birds enough, and some of them with gay feathers, but we could not catch them; and there were animals, but they got away from us. At first we thought we were not going to find any water; but we did come up to a spring, which bubbled up out of the earth—the only one that we could discover on the island. That kept our throats moist. We had a hard job to get a light. We hunted about for tinder out of the rotten trees; but, then, there was the flint to be found: and no flint could we fall in with. You may be sure we hunted in our pockets, and looked about with our noses on the ground wherever we went. At last, what should we see but a bit of a broken tea-cup. At first I thought it was a bit of shell. How it could have come there I do not know, except it was thrown overboard from some Chinese craft and washed up there. Well, that bit of china was of more use to us than its weight in gold. Taking it in my hand, and beginning to strike it against the back of my knife, what was my joy to see a spark fly from it. It was but one; but one little spark was, I knew, enough to kindle a great fire. Well, we dried our tinder in the sun, and then began to strike away with the flint and china. Roger Trew took it in hand first, and struck and struck away; but though the sparks came, not one could he make go down to the tinder. At last I took it; and didn’t I feel pleased when I saw there was a spark resting on the tinder. We blew, not too hard, you may depend on it, and blew and blew, and the spark began to grow larger and larger, and the whole of the tinder was on fire. Did not we bring dried leaves in a hurry!—and, blowing them, up there sprung a flame in no time. We soon collected a whole load of sticks, and in a few minutes there we had a fire blazing away. We felt inclined to join hands and dance round it. We did not, though. We quickly got our shell-fish, and began roasting them. We thought them very good, though they were not much for keeping body and soul together. Well, we did prize that piece of old china, and I kept it carefully in one pocket, with my knife in the other; and we made up a big fire, almost enough to roast an ox, though we had nothing but a few cockles to cook by it. However, the food, such as it was, put a little more spirit into us, and we set out to see what sort of a country we had been left on. It was not very large; but we saw a number of parrots and parroquets up in the trees, and many other birds, but we had not much chance of getting them. Still, we all agreed we would do our best.

“Well, we walked and walked along the shore, and now and then went inland; but we could not make much way there, on account of the trees. At last, looking up, I saw some tall palm-trees, and at the top of them there were some cocoa-nuts. You may be sure we set to work to get up at them; but it is pretty hard work climbing a cocoa-nut tree without ropes, not like swarming up a mast. However, Roger Trew did haul himself up; but then, you see, there are not many men who have got arms like his, and they are better by half than legs for climbing trees. That is why the monkeys have them so strong, I suppose. To be sure, some of them have got tails to help them. Do you know, I have often thought what convenient things tails would be to sailors, if they could catch hold by them as monkeys do. Howsomedever, Roger got to the top at last, and then he sent thundering down a dozen cocoa-nuts or more. Some of our fellows thought they were to be eaten husk and all, and cried out they did not think that would do them much good. At last we got them broken open, and sucked away at the juice inside, which had begun to turn almost into milk. They were more than ripe. It is said that young cocoa-nuts have far more juice and are far better than the old ones. Still, you may be sure, we were very glad to get these at any price; and having found some trees, we had fair hopes of finding more. Still, cocoa-nuts and shell-fish, though they may keep body and soul together, after a time do little more than that; and we all became thinner and thinner. I am not at all sure that we should have lived many weeks longer, so thin and wretched did we get, when at last a sail appeared in sight. Our hearts beat pretty quick when we thought that after all she might not come near the island. Oh! how eagerly we watched her. Now she seemed to be standing away; now, once more, she tacked, and stood towards the island. There was a high rock near, running out into the sea. We made our way to it; and one of our people tearing off his shirt, we made it fast to it, to serve as a signal. You may be sure we gave a shout of joy when up went a flag in return, and the brig stood towards the island. She was no other than this little Dugong, as they call her, and Mr Thudicumb, and your friend Mr Hooker, come to look for us. We were all very glad to see each other; but we felt very sorry when we thought that you and Oliver had been lost. And now, I’ll tell you, Master Walter, it was about the happiest moment in my life when I got hold of you, and helped you into the boat safe from those savages.”

Chapter Seventeen.

The Aru islands visited.

Leaving the coast of New Guinea, the Dugong stood across to the Aru Islands, which Mr Hooker was anxious to visit. I may as well say that the dugong is a large fish found in these waters, from ten to twelve feet in length, of the whale species. They swim in flocks, often coming into shallow water.

The natives prize them for food. We speared one, and got it on board; and we all agreed, when the fish was cooked, that we had seldom tasted a more delicate dish. However, the look of the dugong is not attractive. Mr Hooker told me that the female dugong is remarkable for the affection which she has for her young, of which she produces only one at a time. If the young dugong is speared, she will never leave it, but is sure to be taken also.

We approached the Aru Islands from the southward. The sea between them and New Guinea is very shallow, considerably under fifty fathoms in many places. There are about eighty of them, mostly very low, and forming a chain about a hundred miles in length, and half that distance in width. They belong to the Dutch. The inhabitants are very mixed. There is a larger number of Papuans than any other race among the population. Two or three native Christian schoolmasters have been sent over from Amboyna to teach the inhabitants. We could just see these islands in the far distance, when we found ourselves approaching a fleet of large native boats at anchor. Two or three vessels were also at anchor near them. With our glasses we could see a number of figures standing up in the boats, and then suddenly disappearing overboard. Others were seen climbing up over the sides. What they could be about I could not at first guess. On pointing them out to Mr Hooker, however, he said at once that they must be pearl-divers; and as the wind was very light, and we passed close to them, we had an opportunity of observing their proceedings. There appeared to be about a dozen men in each boat, half of whom were evidently, from their want of dress, the divers, while two other men we took to be the chief and an assistant. A large sugar-loaf stone was let down overboard by a thick rope. A diver stepped on the gunwale, holding on by the rope, and apparently placing his toe in a loop or hole to keep his foot in its place. On the other foot a net was fastened. With this apparatus the diver began to descend. Before, however, his head reached the water I saw that he held his nose very tightly with his hand. This was, I understood, to prevent the water getting into his nostrils. We calculated that about four from each boat were down at a time, and we judged that each man remained from two to three minutes below the water. Up he came again at the end of that time, apparently very little exhausted, although he must have been making active exertions to collect the shells. After he had come to the top, the net containing the oysters was drawn up, and in that time he had collected from a hundred to a hundred and fifty.

We watched them with great interest, and were anxious to procure some of the oysters, but the chiefs would not sell them; indeed, they all belong to merchants who have rented the fishing for the season. Some of the men, we observed, suffered far more than others, and discharged water from their mouths and ears and nostrils, and some even blood; but, notwithstanding this, the same men were ready to go down again when their turn came. We learned that most of them will make from forty to fifty plunges in one day, and that a few of the most experienced and strongest remain down nearly five minutes. Their greatest danger is from the ground shark, which lies in wait at the bottom. However, some of these men will face even the shark, with knives in their hands, and come off victorious. To secure themselves still further, some of the boats carry conjurers or priests on board, who, by their incantations, are supposed to preserve them from the attacks of the shark. Of course, if a diver is picked off by a shark, the conjurer asserts that he has not properly obeyed his directions, and thus does not lose his credit. The saw-fish is another of the diver’s foes, more dangerous, because more difficult to attack than the shark.

The merchants have to keep a very strict look-out on the divers on their return to the shore, as frequently when the oyster is in the boat, and left alive undisturbed for some time, it opens its shell. A pearl may then easily be discovered, and, by means of a piece of wood, the shell be prevented from again closing till the diver has an opportunity of picking out the prize. Sometimes they will even swallow the pearls to conceal them. As soon as the boats arrive on the shore the oysters are put in holes or pits dug in the ground to the depth of about two feet, fenced carefully round to guard them from depredation. Mats are first spread below them to prevent them touching the earth. Here the oysters are left to die and rot. As soon as they have passed through a state of putrefaction and become dry, they can be easily opened without the danger of injuring the pearl, which might be the case if they were opened when fresh. The shell is then carefully examined for pearls. Sometimes one is found in the body of the mollusc itself, but it is generally in the shell. We afterwards, on going on shore, had a specimen of the horrid odour which arises from these pits, but the people who are accustomed to it do not appear to suffer; indeed, we saw people groping about on the sands where the oyster pits had existed, and learned that they were seeking for stray oysters, frequently pearls of some value being thus discovered.

Emily and Grace, as well as Oliver and I, took great interest in watching the proceedings I have described. I asked Mr Hooker how pearls come to exist.

“Oh, I have read somewhere,” exclaimed Emily, “that they are produced by a kind of dew which falls from heaven into the salt water, where the oyster swallows it, when it hardens and forms the beautiful white object we call a pearl.”

“A very poetical notion, Miss Emily,” observed Mr Hooker; “but in reality pearls are identical with the substance which we call mother-of-pearl, which lines the shell of the oyster. It is, indeed, the result of disease. When any substance intrudes into the shell the animal puts forth a viscous liquor, which agglomerates and hardens till the pearl is formed. It is said, indeed, in some places, that the divers pierce the shells of the oysters, and thus increase the number of pearls. It has also been discovered that oysters which have been pierced by a certain small marine worm have invariably pearls within them. The oyster, to defend itself from the worm, covers the hole with a substance which becomes as hard as the shell, and brilliant as mother-of-pearl.”

A breeze springing up towards evening, we proceeded on our voyage, followed by the boats, which also shaped a course for the Aru Islands. In the course of the next day we came in sight of a small rocky island with high cliffs, off which we espied a couple of Chinese junks at anchor. As the island was not much out of our course, we stood towards it, keeping the lead going for fear of reefs. The water, however, was deep close up to the rocks. The cliffs completely overhung the sea, and we observed within them numerous hollows and caverns. On getting nearer, we saw that several boats belonging to the junks were lying directly under the cliffs. As the wind fell, we came to an anchor, for the sea over which we were now sailing was so shallow, that we could anchor in calm weather in almost any part of it.

A boat was lowered, and Mr Hooker invited us to accompany him. As we passed near the Chinese junk the crew hailed us, and Mr Hooker, who understood a little Chinese, remarked that they seemed very angry with us.

“They think, probably, that we have come to search for edible birds’ nests, which they themselves are now collecting,” he observed.

“Edible birds’ nests?” exclaimed Emily and Grace together. “Do you mean to say, Mr Hooker, by that, that there are birds’ nests fit to eat?”

“The Chinese not only think them fit to eat, but esteem them great delicacies,” observed Mr Hooker. “These junks have come all the way from China to collect them, and if they manage to get back without being plundered by pirates, or sent to the bottom by storms, they will make an enormous profit by the voyage.”

Mr Hooker hailed the junk in return, and told the men that they need not be alarmed; that we did not come to interfere with them, but only prompted by curiosity to see what they were about. As we got nearer we saw the entrance to a cavern, into which we pulled. A far from pleasant odour issued from it, while ahead there was an inky darkness, which the keenest eye could not penetrate. As we proceeded, however, we observed a bright light coming from the interior, which showed us a boat with a couple of Chinese in her, one of whom was holding a torch; while another man, by means of a ladder, was mounting up a narrow ledge of rock on the side. Overhead huge bats flitted round us, while on every side the tiny chirp of innumerable birds was taken up and echoed from seemingly a thousand voices throughout the cavern. Above the head of the Chinese appeared a number of nests, something in the shape of large deep spoons without handles, split in half longitudinally, smaller than the ordinary swallow’s nest. They were placed, without any order apparently, on every spot where a slight projection of the rock afforded a foundation. The Chinese, like their friends on board the junk, began to abuse us for coming to interfere with their occupation. Mr Hooker, however, soon pacified them, and offered them some money for a few of the nests, that we might examine them. This brought them at once into good humour, and they very readily sold us a dozen or more of the nests, though I thought the price for birds’ nests a very high one. A number of birds like swallows were flying in and out of the cavern. They had the flight of swallows; indeed, Mr Hooker said they were a species of swallow. They were about the size of robins or sparrows; their breasts white, their wings grey, and their backs and the feathers of their tails shining black. On examining the nests which we had purchased, we found that they were composed of a gelatinous substance something like isinglass.

“This is the substance,” Mr Hooker told us, “that the Chinese make into broth. They are packed, however, just as they are cut from the rock, and carried to China. There they are cleansed from all extraneous substances, and are then boiled or stewed, every particle of dirt being thus more completely removed; and then, with a mixture of spices, they make a transparent, delicate-looking jelly, although, without the spices, they have little or no flavour.”

“But where can they obtain this jelly-like substance?” asked Emily.

“I believe it is produced from a mollusc of some sort, on which the birds feed. When they require to build their nests, they disgorge the gelatinous portion for the purpose; and as this substance possesses the nutritive qualities of animal matter, I have little doubt that it is produced from these molluscs,” said Mr Hooker.

Not only within the cavern, but on all available and tolerably sheltered spots outside, we saw a number of the sea-swallows’ nests. We pulled close under one cliff, where we could distinguish clearly a bird sitting in its nest—we concluded on its eggs—and looking very much at its ease. Another little bird was standing watching its nest. We supposed therefore that its young had been hatched; and as they were in an inaccessible part of the cliff, we hoped they would escape the Chinaman’s grasp.

As we had given a good price for the first nests, the Chinese willingly sold us another dozen, with which, wishing them a successful bird’s-nesting expedition, we returned on board the Dugong. The Malays assert that the bird feeds upon insects and other minute creatures floating on the surface of the sea; and on further examining the nests, we perceived long filaments resembling very fine vermicelli, coiled one part over the other, without any regularity, and glued together by transverse rows of the same material. Mr Hooker told us that the trade in birds’ nests employs a large amount of capital and men. However, the loss of life arising from accidents and exposure is very great. It has been asserted that, on an average, two out of every five men employed in bird’s-nesting meet with a violent death. In China a “catty” or one pound and a quarter English, of the best nests, sells at about 9 pounds sterling. Their value depends chiefly upon their translucent whiteness. Those which have not been lined or used by the birds obtain the highest prices.

Frau Ursula made a small dish of a few of the birds’ nests, which, when first put before us, were perfectly tasteless. When, however, she had added certain seasoning, it was pronounced as delicate as any food could be. The Chinese use them chiefly for thickening their soups and ragouts.

The sea-swallow is found along the northern coast of Australia, as well as on the rocks and islands of the sea which we were now navigating. A large number of Chinese junks come every year to procure the nests, which are greatly prized in China.

As we neared the Aru Islands we passed close to a number of boats at anchor, the people from which were continually jumping overboard, diving, and returning to the surface with some creatures in their hands. As on the previous day, the wind was light, and we were able to accompany Mr Hooker, and pulled off in the boat to see what they were about.

“What can they be getting?” I asked.

“The creatures the natives are collecting are the holothurians, or sea-cucumbers,” answered the naturalist. “There are a great many species of these creatures; but, I believe, those found on banks of coral sand are the most valued.”

Emily and Grace, however, when they saw the creatures, could not help expressing exclamations of disgust at their appearance. They were like gigantic slugs, or long black bags with frills at the top. Mr Hooker purchased a basket full of the creatures, which he wished to examine more at his leisure.

“But of what use can those ugly things be?” asked Emily, as we pulled back to the vessel.

“Our omnivorous friends the Chinese would be very much surprised at your asking the question,” answered Mr Hooker. “They look upon them as one of their most delicate articles of food, though greatly inferior to the birds’ nests we found yesterday. I see it stated that from Macassar alone these creatures are shipped to China to the value of 150,000 pounds; and this is only a very small portion of those used, not only by the Chinese, but the natives of many other parts of the shores of those seas. When taken on shore, their intestines are removed, and they are then boiled in sea-water: in some places with the leaves of the papaw, and in others with the bark of the mangrove-tree, which gives them a bright red colour. After they have been boiled, they are buried in the ground till the next day, when they are spread out to dry in the sun. They are now considered fit for shipment to China, to which the larger number are sent. In some places, however, they are not buried, but smoked over the fire on a framework formed of bamboo. The Chinese make them into soups, sometimes boiling pieces of sugar-cane with them, which is said to neutralise their rank flavour.”

Sailing round the north end of the group, we approached its capital, or chief trading settlement, situated off the north-west end. It is called Dobbo. Just as we came off it we sighted a Dutch man-of-war brig, and stood towards her. The wind was light, and she had, apparently, fishing-lines overboard. Mr Hooker hailed her, and asked her where she was bound for. Her commander, who spoke English, replied, “For Ternate.”

“How fortunate!” I exclaimed. “We can then write to Captain Davenport, and tell him of our safety.”

The commander at once politely offered to convey a letter. “He might however,” he observed, “be some little time on the passage, as he was in search of pirates, whose vessels had lately been heard of in those seas, and had committed depredations on the islands under protection of the Dutch.”

We all hurried down into the cabin to write our letters, as, of course, I was anxious to give an account of what had occurred to my kind friend. Emily wished to write to Mrs Davenport, as did also Grace to her mother. As there was not much time, we described our adventures as briefly as possible. Mr Hooker had proposed to proceed through the Java Seas to Singapore; while Captain Davenport had arranged, should he be able to obtain a vessel, to go there by way of the Sooloo Archipelago, round the north of Borneo. On returning on deck we saw a great commotion on board the brig—all the sailors rushing aft, and hauling away at a rope overboard. In a short time the snout of a huge fish appeared above the water, struggling violently, and it seemed very likely he would break away. “A shark! a shark!” cried our men. I had scarcely supposed so enormous a creature existed. He was fully twenty-six feet long, and looked capable of swallowing not only a man’s leg, but the whole of his body at a gulp. It made me shudder at the thought of falling overboard, and I felt thankful that while struggling in the water no such monster had found me out. “O Walter! how terrible!” exclaimed Emily. The same idea seemed to have crossed her mind. One of the officers stood, harpoon in hand, ready to strike the creature as he was drawn up under the vessel’s counter. A “whip” was immediately rigged, and the crew hauling away, the shark, in spite of his struggles, was hoisted up on deck. Scarcely had he reached it, however, than we saw the crew scattering right and left; and it looked as if he had taken the deck from them, so violent were the lashes he gave with his tail as he floundered up and down, and turned and twisted on every side. At length the most daring of the men returned aft, armed with capstan bars and hatchets; but it was not till after many blows, and jumping and leaping to get out of the way of the monster’s tail, that he was seen to lie quiet on the deck.

I then went in the boat with our despatches on board the brig. The commander received me very politely, and undertook to deliver them. He warned us to keep a sharp look-out for pirates, as our brig being only slightly armed, they were very likely to attack us should we meet them. He kindly offered me some slices of the shark; but I laughingly declined the gift, saying that we were going on shore, where we might find plenty of beef and mutton. He laughed, however, at that notion, and observed that we were more likely to find pig and kangaroo, as beef and mutton were articles unknown in that region. I bid him and his officers farewell, and returned to the Dugong, I felt greatly relieved at the thought that Captain Davenport would now hear of our safety, and hoped before long to meet him and his kind wife at Singapore. I told Mr Hooker that I had been offered some of the shark’s flesh, but had declined receiving it.

“Had he presented a Chinese with the fins, he would have been overwhelmed with gratitude, as they are considered almost as delicate morsels as the edible birds’ nests,” said Mr Hooker. “The creature in many parts is caught for the sake of his fins alone, which are sent to China in large quantities, where they are used in the same way that the birds’ nests and tripang are employed, though they rank next to birds’ nests in value. They are of the same gelatinous consistency, and are made into soups and ragouts.”

Dobbo, being exposed, to the sea-breezes, is healthy, and a good anchorage is found close to it. The place presented an animated appearance, as traders from all parts of the archipelago assemble there. The buildings they inhabited were not, however, pretentious, being composed of bamboo and reeds; while many of the traders considered clothes somewhat superfluous. On the shore a number of prows were hauled up and being refitted for sea. Caulkers were at work on some; painters on others, who were covering them with a thick white lime plaster, making them look very clean and bright. Sailmakers, who looked, however, more like mat-makers, were at work in some places. The tripang—black ugly lumps—was being exposed to the sun to be prepared for loading. In another spot people were busy tying up bundles of mother-of-pearl shell. Carpenters were engaged in squaring timber for repairing vessels; while boats from the islands of Goram and Ceram were unloading their cargoes of sago-cake, with which the traders supply themselves for their homeward voyage. We were amused with the vast number of different cockatoos, lories, and parrots, which were secured by strings on bamboo perches in front of the numerous reed huts, all chattering and talking together, as if carrying on some important consultation; while beautiful metallic-green or white fruit-pigeons were uttering their pleasing coos in all directions. These people are evidently fond of tame creatures, for we saw several beautiful little kangaroos hopping about, quite as tame and as elegant as fawns. Young cassowaries also, striped with black and brown, ran about as tame as barn-door fowls. This is a wingless bird, the body of which is about double the size of that of a large turkey, but its long legs make it five or six feet in height. It is covered with long, coarse, black, hair-like feathers. The skin of the neck is bare, and is of a bright blue and red. Instead of wings it has a group of horny black spines, like porcupine quills. The species I have described is found in the neighbourhood of the island of Ceram. Mr Hooker told us that it feeds chiefly on fallen fruits, and on insects or Crustacea. The female lays from three to five large eggs of a shagreen-green colour, upon a bed of leaves. The male and female sit alternately for about a month upon them. The articles we saw exposed for sale in the fair were chiefly pearl shell and the tripang, known also as the bêche-de-mer; as also tortoise-shell, edible birds’ nests, pearls, and birds of paradise, or rather their stuffed skins. The Malay traders had brought for sale, or to exchange with these articles, guns, swords, knives, choppers, tobacco, plates and basins, handkerchiefs, sarongs, calicoes, and arrack in bottles. Tea, coffee, sugar, and wine, were also to be seen; and even fancy goods, such as china ornaments, pipes and purses; umbrellas, razors, and looking-glasses; indeed, it is curious what a number of articles are found in this out-of-the-way spot, and many of them costing no more than they did in England.

These articles are exchanged for English calico, crockery, cutlery, fire-arms, gunpowder, gongs, and elephants’ tusks. They not only buy muskets, but small brass guns, on which they set a high value. They also prize tobacco for chewing. We always slept on board, and the sound of the Malays’ songs came across the water to a late hour of the night. The musical instruments we heard were tom-toms, Jews’-harps, and frequently fiddles. The Malays are a merry, vivacious people, and fond of several games. The most interesting was a game at football, which was generally played in the evening. The ball is small, made of ratan, hollow, elastic, and light. One of the players dances it for a short time on his foot, sometimes on his arm or thigh, and then striking it with the hollow of his foot, sends it flying high into the air. A player from the opposite side rushes forward, catches it on his foot in the same way, and returns it. The rule appeared to be that the ball should never be touched by the hand, but that the arms, shoulder, or knee may be employed. Far less satisfactory was their custom of cock-fighting. Steel spurs are used, as they were formerly in civilised England; and the spectators, who stand round in a ring, show their savage character by their fearful yells and leaps as they see their cocks likely to win or lose.

We saw shells used here for every purpose. Some of the magnificent volute shells were employed as baskets; while gigantic helmet shells, suspended by ratan handles, formed the vessels in which fresh water was brought from house to house.

I was delighted to find that Mr Hooker had resolved to make an excursion into the interior of the mainland for the sake of obtaining some birds of paradise. As the fatigue might be too great for the young ladies, they remained on board under charge of Frau Ursula; Oliver and I only accompanying him, with two native hunters, a trustworthy guide, and an interpreter who spoke Dutch. The natives of these islands, I should say, are Papuans, and in some parts are said to be very savage. They are expert archers, and are never seen without their bows and arrows. They shoot pigs and kangaroos with them, as well as all sorts of birds. We met some of the natives who came from the south islands, who were even more savage in appearance and manners than the rest. They wore a number of rude ornaments—one of comb, shaped like a horse-shoe, on their foreheads, the ends resting on the temples. The end of this ornament is fastened into a piece of wood, plated in front with tin; above it waves a plume of feathers of a cock’s tail.

In the Aru Islands are found a number of birds of paradise, some, indeed, of the most beautiful, which I will describe shortly.

Chapter Eighteen.

A search for birds of paradise.

I must give a very brief account of our excursion, which we had just before projected. A native boat carried us across to the mainland, and landing, we were amused with the number of sea-shells which we found on the ground away from the beach. They were of a variety of shapes and kinds, which had been taken possession of by those curious creatures, the hermit crabs, who wander into the forest in search of food. Sometimes, however, they become food themselves to huge spiders, and we saw one monster carry away a fair-sized shell, and devour its unhappy occupant. We came upon several little parties of hermit crabs, whom, breaking through their custom, we found assembled round some delicate morsel; but as soon as they heard us, away they scrambled as fast as they could crawl. The spiders were huge spotted monsters, with bodies two inches long, and legs in proportion. They form thick glutinous threads across the path, which are very unpleasant to meet, and really cost a great deal of trouble to get rid of. Sometimes, indeed, we ran our faces directly against one of the monsters, though in most cases the creature was as glad to get off as we were to get rid of him. We met also numerous lizards, of various shades of green, grey, and brown, every rotten trunk being alive with them, as they ran about seeking for insects. Our native hunters had arrows with heads as large as a small tea-cup, for the purpose of shooting the birds of paradise.

Among the most beautiful vegetable productions are the tree-ferns. We were never tired of admiring them, and Mr Hooker said they were superior in size and beauty to any he had before seen. There were also beautiful palms with slender smooth stems, perfectly straight, reaching to the height of a hundred feet, and surmounted by a crown of gracefully drooping leaves.

Our men carried sleeping mats for us to wrap ourselves in at night, with a small kettle for boiling our tea, and a pot for cooking our meat or soup. When resting at night we quickly formed an impromptu hut of boughs. I could not help wishing that my sister and Grace had been with us, to admire the beautiful forests and magnificent birds we saw. Rising in the morning, we witnessed another dance of the birds of paradise in some trees close to us, and our native hunters shot several of them.

“It is strange,” said Mr Hooker, “that the only inhabitants of this region, where the most graceful of trees and the most beautiful of birds in the universe exist, should be inhabited by races utterly incapable of appreciating them.”

“Perhaps, sir, it may be that God has thus arranged it, that civilised man should be led to the spot to make His name known among those savages. Had it not been for these birds of paradise, perhaps these very islands might not have been heard of.”

“Ah, Oliver, I like that idea. I think you are right,” said Mr Hooker, and he was silent for some minutes. I too was struck by it.

“Yes, sir,” said Oliver, “God has a reason for all His arrangements, and I think it is allowable for us to conjecture what that reason may be; but though we cannot find it out, we may be very sure the reason exists.”

We had been walking on through the forest, when one of our hunters made a sign to us to stop, and he advanced cautiously. We saw him raise his bow and let fly an arrow. Down fell a small bird rather larger than a thrush, the plumage as we saw it falling being of the most intense cinnabar red with the softest and most lovely gloss. Mr Hooker ran forward in the greatest state of agitation I had ever seen him exhibit, and kneeling down, gradually lifted up the bird. Had he discovered a nugget of gold of the same size, he could not have appeared more delighted. The feathers of the head were short and velvety, and shaded into a rich orange beneath. From the breast downwards the body was like the softest white gloss silk, while across the breast a band of deep metallic-green separated it from the red throat. Above each eye was a round spot, also of metallic-green. The bill was yellow, and the feet and legs were of a fine cobalt-blue, forming a striking contrast with the other parts of the body. On each side of the breast, concealed under the wings, were tufts of grey feathers, about two inches in length, terminated by a broad band of deep emerald-green. These plumes are raised, as in the other species we saw, into a pair of elegant fans when the wings are elevated. Besides these beautiful ornaments, there were in the middle of the tail two feathers like slender wires, about five inches long, diverging into a double curve. The end of these wires are webbed on the outer side, and covered with a fine metallic-green; so that the bird appears to have two elegant glittering circles hanging about five inches from the body, and the same distance apart.

It was some time before our kind friend could recover himself.

“Is it not beautiful? is it not beautiful?” he kept exclaiming as he held it up, still kneeling on the ground and exhibiting its various beauties. “Walter, I tell you that this is the most beautiful of the eight thousand different kinds of birds which our beneficent Creator has placed on this earth, to adorn it for the sake of us mortals. Not one of them possesses these spiral-tipped tail wires nor these beautiful breast fans. Then look at the colours. What art can in any way approach them! This is the King Bird of Paradise—the Paradisea Regia, we naturalists call it. Well worthy is it of the name.” When we stopped for the night, our attendants quickly built some leafy sheds, into which we crept, wrapped up in our mats, after we had partaken of our supper—consisting of a parrot pie, which we had brought with us, and also of some sago biscuit, washed down with arrack and water. Our guides would have preferred the spirit undiluted, as they are fond of potent liquors as well as of strong-tasted food. At early morn, before the sun rose, we heard the well-known cry of “Wawk—wawk—wawk!—Wok—wok—wok!” resounding through the forest, and continually changing its direction. Looking up, we caught sight of nights of the great bird of paradise, going to seek their breakfasts on the fruit-bearing trees. Lories and parroquets soon afterwards flew off from their perches, uttering shrill cries. King hunters croaked and barked; and cockatoos, black and white, screamed loudly through the woods; while numerous smaller birds, many also of the most lovely plumage, chirruped and whistled as they saluted the dawn. Our hunters, one with a gun, the other with a bow and arrows, started forth while we lighted our fire and made other preparations for breakfast. One of them soon came back with a large black bird having an enormous bill. Mr Hooker jumped up, almost letting drop the saucepan which he held in his hand, in his eagerness at the sight of the bird.

“A superb black cockatoo!” he exclaimed. “This is indeed a prize.”

All thoughts of eating were abandoned, while he expatiated on the beauty of the bird and its peculiar mode of living. Compared to its largely developed head, which was ornamented with a superb crest, its body appeared weak and small. It had long slender legs and large wings, its head being armed with a sharp-pointed hooked bill of prodigious size and strength. The plumage was quite black, and had over it the peculiar powdery white secretion which characterises cockatoos. The cheeks were bare, and of an intense blood-red colour. We had heard its voice the evening before, which, unlike the harsh scream of the white cockatoo, is that of a plaintive whistle. The tongue was a slender fleshy cylinder of a deep red colour, terminated by a black horny plate, furred across, and possessing prehensile power. We afterwards saw several of them, mostly one at a time, though now and then we caught sight of two or three together. They were flying slowly and noiselessly, and our hunter told us that a very slight wound would kill them.

“See here, Walter and Oliver; observe its powerful beak. This bird lives upon the kernel of the kanary-nut. We passed several of those lofty trees as we came along. This bill is evidently formed for the purpose of eating this kanary-nut, which no other bird can do. By-the-by, I picked up one. Here it is. See! it is so hard that a heavy hammer alone can crack it.”

The outside of the nut Mr Hooker showed us was quite smooth, and of a somewhat triangular shape.

“However, the birds are hungry, and we will try and catch flight of one of our black friends taking his breakfast, and see how he manages.”

We quickly discussed our breakfast, and immediately afterwards set off in search of a kanary-tree. On one of the lower branches we were fortunate enough to see a black cockatoo perched. He had just taken one of the nuts end-ways into his bill, where he kept it firm by the pressure of the tongue. He then cut a transverse notch, so Mr Hooker declared, by the lateral sawing motion of the lower mandible. He next took hold of the nut by his foot, and biting off a piece of a neighbouring leaf, retained it in the deep notch of the upper mandible. Again seizing the nut, which was prevented from slipping by the elastic tissue of the leaf, he fixed the edge of the lower mandible in the notch, and by a powerful nip broke off a piece of the shell. Once more taking it in his claws, he inserted the very long and sharp point of his bill and picked out the kernel, which he seized hold of, morsel by morsel, with his curiously formed, extensible tongue. As no other bird in existence can compete with him in eating these nuts, he has always an abundance of food. Mr Hooker called this species the Microglossum aterrimum.

Soon afterwards, a native brought us a king-fisher with an enormously long tail, such as no other king-fisher possesses. It was the racket-tailed king-fisher. It had been caught sleeping in the hollow of the rocky banks of a neighbouring stream. It had a red bill, and Mr Hooker observed that he doubted whether it lived upon fish, for, from the earth clinging to its beak, he suspected rather that it preys on insects and minute shells which it picks up in the forests. Its shape was very graceful, the plumage being of a brilliant blue and white.

We caught also another cuscus, which Mr Hooker showed us was of the marsupial order; that is, having a pouch in which it carries its young, as does the kangaroo. There are several other marsupial animals in these islands, such as are found also in Australia and New Guinea, where alone they exist, some as small as mice. Though no mice exist in those regions, these little animals are about as mischievous—entering into houses, and eating their way through all sorts of materials, just in the manner that mice do. I cannot attempt to describe the numerous other birds which we shot or caught. Among them were many of brilliant plumage—pigeons, little parroquets, and numerous other small birds, similar to those found in Australia and New Guinea.

We spent three or four days in a native house, at which, at a rental of a few yards of cloth, some tobacco, and one or two other articles, we engaged rooms. It was raised on a platform seven feet high on posts; the walls were about four feet more, with a high pitched roof. The floor was composed of split bamboo, and a part of the sloping roof could be lifted and propped up, so as to admit light and air. Our apartments—for I have dignified them by that name—were divided from the rest of the house by a thatched partition. At one end of it was a cooking-place, with a clay floor, and shells for crockery. Several families occupied the other parts of the house, which was very extensive. There were generally half-a-dozen or more visitors in addition to the families. They led very easy idle lives, only working when it was absolutely necessary for the sake of obtaining food; and from morning till night the people were laughing, shouting, and talking without cessation. Such screams of laughter, such loud shouts—the women and children vying with the men—I have never elsewhere heard. They seemed to live very well, as the men and boys are capital archers, and never went out without their bows and arrows. With these they shot all sorts of birds, and sometimes kangaroos and pigs. Besides this, they had a variety of vegetables, although they grew no rice nor the cocoa-nut tree. They had plantains, yams, and, above all, the sugar-cane. They were continually eating it. It grows on the black vegetable soil to a great height and thickness. At all times of the day we found the people eating it, generally four or five together, each one with a yard of cane in one hand, and a knife in the other, and a basket between their legs. There they sat paring away at it, chewing, and throwing the refuse into the basket.

Mr Hooker was highly pleased with the collection of birds and insects which he had made. Engaging the services of two more natives to carry them, we returned to the boat, in which, in the course of a day’s sail, we reached the Dugong.

Chapter Nineteen.

Voyage continued.

Sailing from Dobbo, a number of our mop-headed friends accompanied us to sea in their long canoes—curious, savage-looking boats, the bow and stern rising up six or seven feet high, decorated with shells and waving plumes of cassowary’s feathers. They were all talking, laughing, and shouting at once, and when they at length, after receiving a few farewell presents, bid us good-bye, we felt as if we had passed out of a tempest of noise into a calm, so apparently deep was the silence which reigned round us. In two days, passing the Key Islands, the inhabitants of which are very much like those of Aru, we arrived in sight of a lofty volcano, from the summit of which wreaths of white smoke were even then ascending. On approaching more closely, we saw that there were two other mountains near it, clothed with vegetation to their very summits. A fair breeze enabled us to enter the land-locked harbour of Banda. The water below our keel was so transparent, that we could see, at a depth of seven or eight fathoms, the smallest objects on the sand, and watch the living corals at work. We sailed on through narrow channels, having on one side lofty cliffs rising out of the sea.

Besides three large islands, there are several others, which form what are known as the Banda group. The largest is Lontar, or Great Banda—a crescent-shaped island, about six miles long and a mile and a half wide. Within the circle of which this island and two others joined to it form an arc, lie three more, the highest and most remarkable of which is the Grunong Api, or the Burning Mountain. It is an ever active volcano, about two thousand three hundred feet in height. We passed close under its base, and looking up, saw cloud-like masses of steam and sulphureous acid gas rising from its summit. On the Lontar shore rose up perpendicular crags from two to three hundred feet high, but everywhere covered with the most luxuriant vegetation, the trees and shrubs having their roots in the crevices, and hanging down in broad sheets of the brightest green. As we sailed on we perceived lofty palms rising amid the matted mass of vegetation, and from their crests hung long feathered leaves, silently and gracefully oscillating in the light air which filled our sails.

On the top of one of the heights appeared the dazzling white walls of Fort Belgica, with another fort below it; and along the shore on every hand extended the chief village, called Neira, with rows of wide-spreading trees shading the streets and bordering the bay. Opposite the village were a number of prows from Ceram—strange-looking vessels, high at the stem and low at the bow, having, instead of a single mast, a tall tripod, which can be raised and lowered at pleasure. There was a number of other craft—Bugis traders, mostly square topsail schooners, but ill-fitted apparently to contend with the storms which occasionally rage in those seas. Among the most beautiful trees was the lontar or palmyra palm—Borassus flabelliformis. Mr Hooker told us that its leaves were formerly used as parchment all over the archipelago before the Chinese introduced paper. In some places, even at the present time, it is used for that purpose. In every direction we could see spreading out over the island a continuous forest of nutmeg-trees, shaded by the lofty kanary-trees. The nutmeg-tree is from twenty to five-and-twenty feet high, though sometimes its lofty sprays are fifty feet high. A foot above the ground the trunk is from eight to ten inches in diameter. The fruit before it is quite ripe greatly resembles a peach. This, however, is only a fleshy outer rind—epicarp—which, as it ripens, opens into two equal parts, when within is seen a spherical polished nut, surrounding an aril, the mace, which is of a bright yellow colour. No fruit can then surpass it in beauty. The people who pick it use a small basket at the end of a long bamboo, into which it drops as they hook it off. The outer part, which we should call the fruit, being removed, the mace is carefully taken off, and dried on large shallow bamboo baskets in the sun. Its bright colour now changes to a dark yellow. The black part seen within the vermilion mace is a shell, and inside this is the nutmeg. When the mace is removed, the nuts are spread out on shallow trays of open basket-work in a drying-room. A slow fire is made beneath the floor, where the nuts remain for three months. By this time the nutmeg has shrunk so much that it rattles in its shell. The shell is then broken, and the nutmegs are sorted and packed in casks for shipment.

We took a stroll with Mr Hooker through the beautiful groves of nutmeg-trees, which were heavily laden with fruit. It is picked twice in the year, though some is obtained throughout the whole year. A beautiful carpet of green grass is spread out beneath the trees, while high above them tower the lofty kanary-trees, which stretch out their gnarled arms as if to defend their more tender sisters committed to their charge. At a distance, indeed, the nutmeg-trees are completely hidden from view by the kanary-trees. The roots of these latter are very curious, looking like enormous snakes with their heads caught in the trunk of the tree. As we strolled through the forest, sheltered from the direct rays of the sun by the thick foliage, we caught distant views of the blue ocean sparkling in the sunlight, the white surf breaking in masses of foam on the rocks beneath us, while at a distance appeared the varied forms of the other islands.

These groves of nutmegs are divided into what are called parks, belonging to different proprietors, who are known as perkeniers. By far the greater proportion of nutmegs used throughout the world are grown on these small islands, though wild nutmegs are found in New Guinea and in a few other places. As the nutmeg is among the most beautiful of fruits, so are the trees superior to almost any other cultivated plant. They are well-shaped, and have glossy leaves, bearing small yellowish flowers. On examining the fruit, we compared it in size and colour to a peach, only rather more oval. It is of a tough fleshy consistency till it becomes ripe, when, as I have before said, it splits open and shows a dark brown nut within covered with the crimson mace. We saw a most beautiful bird flying among the trees; it was the Banda pigeon, which feeds upon the nutmeg fruit. It digests the mace, but casts up the nut with its seed uninjured. By this means it has undoubtedly carried the seed to all parts of the group, and perhaps to other islands in the neighbourhood. In one part of Lontar we heard that the mace, instead of being red, is white—probably owing to some peculiarity of the soil. The deer and pig are found in the islands, and also a species of cuscus.

A proprietor, to whom Mr Hooker had an introduction, invited us to climb the burning mountain; but after considering the matter, our friend declined the honour, from hearing that the ascent was very difficult and dangerous, and that we should gain very little more knowledge about it than we should by gazing up at it from the base.

While sleeping on shore, the house we occupied was one night so shaken that we thought it would fall about our heads; but the inhabitants seemed to take it as a thing of course, and we heard that nearly every month an earthquake occurs. Several most disastrous eruptions of the mountain have taken place, causing great destruction of life and havoc among the plantations.

The Portuguese were the first Europeans who took possession of the Bandas. They were driven out by the Dutch, who exterminated the aboriginal inhabitants, and then had to import slaves to cultivate the plantations. Since slavery was abolished by Holland, convicts have been sent there for the purpose; and now, people from various neighbouring regions have been collected to perform the part of labourers. The Bandas are not properly included in the Moluccas. The cultivation of the clove-tree is now chiefly confined to Amboyna, and the surrounding islands, to which we were now bound.

A day’s sail took us off Amboyna, the capital of the Moluccas. It is one of the oldest European settlements in the East. The island is divided into two parts by the sea, a narrow sandy isthmus alone joining them. We sailed up the western inlet, the shores of which were lined by groves of cocoa-nut palm-trees, furnishing food and shade to the natives who dwell in the rude huts beneath them. We came to an anchor off the town of Amboyna. In few places we visited was the forest vegetation more luxuriant or beautiful than on this island. Ferns and palms of graceful forms were seen everywhere; climbing ratans formed entangled festoons pendent from every forest tree; while fine crimson lories and brush-tongued turkeys, also of a bright crimson colour, flew in and out amidst the foliage, forming a magnificent sight, especially when a flock of the former settled down on some flowering tree, the nectar from which the lories delight to suck. Amboyna is a large city for the East, containing 14,000 people, about 8000 of whom are Europeans, with half that number, perhaps, of Chinese and Arabs. Our great wish was to see a clove plantation in full bearing. We found, however, that the proprietors had discovered that there were more profitable means of employing their ground and labour, and that cacao plantations were superseding them.

The two young ladies, with Frau Ursula, were able to accompany us. Our road lay through a grove of palm-trees, and wound up a hill, till we reached the plantations of young cacao-trees. They were covered with long red cucumber-like fruit. The plants had been brought here from Madagascar, where it was first discovered by the Spaniards. They are great consumers of it in various forms. Chocolate comes from the Spanish chocolate, which is composed of cacao pounded with Indian corn, to which honey is sometimes added. The sugar-cane was also introduced, as sugar assists in neutralising the bitter qualities of the cacao. I need scarcely point out the difference between the cacao—often written cocoa—plant and fruit, from which the now much used beverage is made, and the lofty cocoa-nut palms with their well-known nuts full of juice. In the woods we saw numbers of green parrots, which uttered their shrill deafening screams as they darted to and fro through the thick foliage.

Proceeding again along the beach, my sister and Grace, feeling thirsty, asked for a draught of water, but neither stream nor fountain was in sight. When one of our attendants heard what was inquired for, “Stop,” he said, “you shall have it.” Directly afterwards, we saw him climb up a cocoa-nut palm above our heads, whence he cut off some of the clusters of large green fruit. Immediately descending, he struck off the end with a hatchet, and presented each of us with a goblet of the freshest and most sparkling water I ever tasted. We had before only found the more mature fruit, after the liquid has assumed a milk-like appearance.

A short way on, we saw the hill-side covered with myrtle-like trees, and found that they were plantations of clove-trees. The clove-tree belongs to the order of myrtles. The trunks of the full-grown trees were about twelve inches in diameter. Their topmost branches were from forty to fifty feet from the ground. However, we found some very small ones, fully loaded with fruit. The clove is the flower bud, and it grows in clusters at the end of the twigs. Our guide told us that the annual yield of a good tree is about four pounds and a half. When the buds are young, they are nearly white; when more mature, they change to a light green, and ultimately to a bright red. They are then picked by the hand, or beaten off with bamboos, on cloths spread under the trees. They are simply dried in the sun for use, when their colour changes from red to black. The leaves, the bark, and young twigs, have also a peculiar aroma. It grows best on the high hillsides, on a volcanic soil, or a loose sandy loam. Curiously enough, although cloves are used in all parts of the world, the inhabitants of these islands do not eat them. They employ them in making models of their prows and bamboo huts, by running a small wire through them before they are dried. I remember seeing a number of these models in the Great Exhibition in England, many of them of very elaborate construction. When cloves were first introduced into England, thirty shillings per pound was paid for them. They are now cultivated in several other places, and consequently their value in the Spice Islands has greatly fallen.

As we returned home in the evening, we passed along a pathway lined by rows of pine-apples, which had, like the cocoa-nut trees, been brought from Tropical America. We also saw creatures leaping from branch to branch. The servants caught some, when we found them to be flying dragons; not such as Saint George fought with, but small lizards known as the Draco volans. They were provided with broad folds in the skin, along each side of the body, which enabled them not really to fly, but, as a parachute would do, to sustain them in the air while they leap from branch to branch.

I was ahead of our party when I heard a loud hammering or tapping, and creeping near, I saw a cocoa-nut, which had just fallen from a tree, and an enormous crab working away at it. I stopped to watch him. He had torn off the dry husk which covered the latter with his powerful claws, just at the point where the three black scars are found marked. He was now breaking the shell by hammering with one of his heavy claws. As soon as this was done, he began to pick out the rich food, by means of his pincer-like claws. Our servants as they came up chased and caught him, tying up his claws, and saying that we should find it, when cooked, one of the greatest delicacies in the place.

We stopped for the night at the house of Mr Hooker’s friend, a little outside the town. Our beds were placed in a verandah, merely covered with mats at night; our heads only guarded by mosquito curtains, though we could hear the venomous insects buzzing outside. As I put my head on the pillow before going to sleep, the sound of the low cooing of doves came up out of the forest, while the tree frogs piped out their shrill notes.

Next day, when pulling along the narrow channel of the beautiful harbour on our return to the brig, we gazed down over the side with astonishment at the lovely spectacle the bottom of the sea afforded. It was thickly covered with a mass of corals, actiniae, and other productions of the ocean, of vast dimensions, of every possible form, and of the most brilliant colours. In some places the depth, Mr Hooker said, was fifty feet, and in others twenty, for the bottom was very uneven. Here appeared some deep chasm, here a hill rose up, there a valley was seen, here rocks of every possible shape, the whole covered with a forest of living vegetables, as I may call them.

“See, see!” cried Emily; “there swims a beautiful fish; there, another; and there, another. Some are red; there is a yellow one; there is one spotted and banded; there is another striped in the most curious manner. See how leisurely they swim, as if admiring the beauty of their country!”

“Look there! What is that floating by us?” exclaimed Grace; “what a lovely orange mass!”

“See, there is another, of a beautiful rose colour!” said Emily.

The creatures the girls were admiring were medusae, beautifully transparent, which were floating along near the surface. We entreated that the crew might stop rowing, that we might admire them at our leisure; indeed, we could have gazed at the scene all day long, but I am very sure, were I to make the attempt, I could not do justice to its surpassing beauty and interest. There may be coral beds of equal beauty, but in few places is the water so transparent as in the harbour of Amboyna; while, from being sheltered from the violence of storms, there are probably a larger number of marine productions, shells, and fishes collected in it, than in almost any other spot. While we were still gazing down into the ocean depths, a strange rumbling noise came over the land. The trees seemed to rock from side to side, the buildings shook, the frightened birds flew off from the shore, the land seemed to rise and fall, and people were seen flying from their houses, and rushing to their boats; others hurried away into the open country.

“An earthquake!” exclaimed Mr Hooker. “They are pretty well accustomed to it, though, and I trust no real damage may be done. However, should it be more severe than usual, we will be ready to take off any poor people who may wish to find refuge at sea.”

In a few seconds, however, all was quite quiet. The people returned on shore, and some were seen hurrying back to buildings which had been the most shaken, either to rescue friends who had been left behind, or to carry off their household furniture, in case another shock should occur, and bring their houses to the ground.

Leaving this beautiful, though unstable island, we stood away to the south-west, Mr Hooker purposing to visit a number of islands on our passage to Macassar, after which he intended standing across to Java, or perhaps visiting the south of Borneo before proceeding on to Singapore.

Chapter Twenty.

A modern Crusoe’s island.

Macassar, at the south-west end of Celebes, had been visited; a Dutch town, very neat and clean, having covered drains down the streets which carry away all impurities. On one side along the shore, forming a straight street a mile in length, are a number of shops, warehouses, and native bazaars; on the other, two shorter streets form the old Dutch town, with most of the private houses of the Europeans. It is enclosed by gates, with a fort at the southern end. Round the town extend rice-fields, in the rainy season presenting a mass of the most vivid green. Beyond, are numerous native villages embosomed in fruit-trees.

We were occasionally on shore, and saw many objects of interest, but Mr Hooker made a long excursion into the interior, of which he gave us an account on his return. We caught sight of two of the animals peculiar to Celebes. One of them was a curious baboon-like monkey, about the size of a spaniel, and of a jet-black colour. It had the projecting dog-like muzzle and overhanging brows of a baboon, with red callosities, and a scarcely visible fleshy tail, about an inch long. A large band of them visited the garden of the merchant at whose house we were stopping, and were busily employed in carrying off the fruit, when they were disturbed by the servants, who rushed out with guns and sticks to drive them off.

Next day we started with our friend into the neighbouring forest, in chase of the babirusa or pig-deer. After a long search, we came up with one, to which, the dogs gave chase; and it being brought to bay, was killed. It resembled a pig in general appearance, but had long slender legs and curved tusks like horns. Those of the lower jaw are very long and sharp, but the upper ones, instead of growing downwards as those of a boar generally do, curve upwards out of bony sockets through the skin on each side of the snout till they meet the eyes. Those of the creature we killed, which was an old one, were nearly ten inches in length. Our Dutch friend stated that they were so formed to guard its eyes from the thorns and spines which it meets with whilst searching for fallen fruits among the thickets of ratan and other spiny plants. Mr Hooker, however, said he thought they had once been of use to the animal in digging, but its mode of life having been somewhat changed, they had grown up into their present curious form. Instead of digging for food with its snout as other pigs do, it feeds on fallen fruits from various trees. We saw also a number of butterflies, which Mr Hooker said were peculiar to Celebes. Besides the babirusa, herds of wild pigs of large size abound in the northern forests, and numerous jungle-fowl, hornbills, and great fruit-pigeons. Buffaloes are generally employed on the farms, and we drank buffalo milk, which was brought into the house in bamboo buckets. It was as thick as cream and in order to keep it fluid during the day it was diluted with water.

Among the many curious trees we saw, was the sugar-palm, from which the usual beverage of the country is made—called sagueir. It is as strong as ordinary beer. The sugar makes a very nice sweetmeat, and Mr Hooker said it put him very much in mind of the North American maple sugar.

We were introduced also to a very curious animal, somewhat smaller than a Shetland cow, called the sapi-utan. It has long straight horns, which are ringed at the base and slope backwards over the neck. We were told that it inhabits the mountains, and is never found where deer exist. There seems a doubt whether it should be classed with the ox, buffalo, or antelope. The head is black, with a white mark over each eye, one on the cheek, and another on the throat. We saw also a couple of maleos, a species of brush-turkey, allied to the megapodi or mound-making birds which we had met with in our island. They live also in the northern part of Celebes, and come down to the shore in order to lay their eggs in the black, hot, volcanic sand. It is a handsome bird, the plumage glossy black and rosy white, with a helmeted head, and elevated tail. Its walk is peculiarly stately. The sexes are very much alike. Two or more birds will come down, and the female deposits a single egg in a hole which the male assists her in making, about a foot deep in the sand, and having covered it up, returns to the forest. At the end of ten days or so she comes to the same spot and lays another egg. Each can lay, it is said, six or eight eggs during the season. Frequently two or three hens deposit their eggs in the same hole. The colour of the shell is a pale brick-red. The eggs being thus deposited, the parents take no further care of their offspring. The young birds, after breaking their shell, work their way up through the sand, just as the young megapodi do, and run off at once to the forest. A friend of Mr Hooker’s presented him with some, which had been carefully covered up, and had just arrived. We took them on board the brig. The next morning, when far out of sight of land, we heard a strange noise in the cabin, and looking in, great was our surprise to see a covey of little birds flying right across it. They had been hatched during the night, and following the instincts of their nature, were making their way, as they supposed, to their future forest home. We fed them on little bits of chopped fruit, and such things as Mr Hooker thought would suit their appetites.

“But what can induce the parents thus to leave their eggs?” asked Emily. “I thought it was the nature of creatures to look after their young.”

“If it was for their benefit, so it would have been,” he answered; “but I suspect that these large birds, requiring a considerable amount of food, which consists entirely of fallen fruits, could only find it by roaming over a wide extent of country. If, therefore, a large number came down to this particular beach, which seems the only one fit for hatching them during the breeding season, they would perish for want of food. Providence, therefore, has so arranged that they should return to the districts where they can find their food; whilst the young ones, not requiring so much, are able to make their way as their strength will allow in the same direction.”

We had a full-grown stuffed maleo on board. Its claws were sharp and straight, and very different from those of the megapodi. The toes, however, were strongly webbed at the base; the leg rather long, forming a powerful instrument for scratching away the loose sand, which those who have watched them say they throw up in a complete shower when digging their holes.

We had been standing on for some time to the west, a cast of the lead showing us that we were in fifty fathoms—the shallow sea which separates Borneo from Java and Sumatra. Our compass had never been very trustworthy. An injury it had received had still further put it out of order, while thick cloudy weather had prevented us from taking an observation. Mr Hooker had also for some days been unwell. He had caught a fever while we were at Macassar, the effects of which he began to feel directly he came on board, and we were now very anxious about him. Several of the men also had been ill for some time before we reached Macassar. Two of them died. I will not stop to describe the particulars of their funeral. We felt very sad as we committed them to their ocean grave. Mr Hooker, who had studied medicine, was too ill to visit the rest. He, however, got Mr Thudicumb and I to describe their symptoms as far as we were able, and sent the medicine accordingly. As soon as he was able to move he insisted upon being carried forward to see the men, when, somewhat altering his treatment of them, they appeared to be getting better.

I was on deck one day, and Roger Trew was aloft, when he shouted out, “Land ahead!” Not knowing exactly our position, we were glad that it had been seen during the day. I ran aloft, and after a time I could distinguish the land stretching away to the north and south, where it seemed to terminate. We therefore concluded that it was an island. This became a certainty as we stood on, as no land could be distinguished beyond the two distant points we had discovered. We were rather nearest the north end, and Mr Thudicumb determined therefore to go round it. It was a land of dense forest, with here and there mountainous points; high bold capes standing out into the ocean, affording every possible variety of scenery.

“Why, there must be a fort somewhere thereabouts,” observed Mr Thudicumb, who had been examining it through his glass. “I see a flag flying!”

There, sure enough, as we drew nearer, we discovered on the summit of a bold rock, standing out into the sea, a flagstaff with a large flag flying from it. What the flag was, we could not well make out, from its somewhat battered condition. As we stood on, a bay opened out, the headland I have spoken of forming the westernmost point. Mr Thudicumb considered that it would afford sufficient shelter to us should we bring up. He was anxious to do this, that we might go ashore and ascertain whether any Europeans were living there.

“Perhaps some people have been cast away,” he observed, “and have hoisted the flag as a signal to any passers-by.”

Mr Hooker was still too weak to go ashore without inconvenience. Mr Thudicumb therefore ordered Dick Tarbox, myself, Roger Trew, and three others, to go in the boat, well armed with muskets and pistols, and to ascertain the state of the case.

“Now, take care,” said Mr Thudicumb, “that you are not led into an ambush. Some of these islands are the dens of pirates, or savages, who are no better, and still more treacherous. Keep a bright look-out on either side as you advance, and see that you are able to get back to the boat without any difficulty. If there is an European there, he is sure to come down when he sees the boat pull in; so if you find no one at first, you must be doubly careful not to be caught in a trap.”

Emily and Grace stood at the gangway as we pulled off.

“Oh, do take care, Walter, that those horrid savages do not get hold of you again!” exclaimed Emily.

“Pray, do! pray, do!” added Grace.

“Yes, Mynheer Walter, take care dat de savages don’t eat you up; you now grow so fat and big, you fine large morsel,” exclaimed Frau Ursula, who had no fear whatever of savages or pirates, being in most instances a very dauntless and fearless person.

I was glad she said this, as it assisted to quell the anxiety of Emily and Grace. The brig lay about a quarter of a mile from the beach, Mr Thudicumb being afraid to stand in nearer because of the reefs, of which there appeared to be several under water, their dark heads projecting here and there from the shore. I waved my cap and held up my musket as we pulled in, to show them that we were in good spirits, and prepared to make a bold fight, if it was necessary; though I must say I had no expectations of meeting either savages or pirates.

The flag, though tattered and patched, looked very like an English ensign with the jack torn out of it.

“Depend upon it, some Englishman is there,” observed Tarbox. “What object could any pirates or savages have in flying a flag from that point?”

We found the shore lined with black volcanic rocks, among which there was some difficulty in landing. However, at length we discovered a place between two ledges, into which we ran the boat. One of the men remained to take charge of her, while the rest of us, landing, walked up the beach. We soon came to the thick jungle, in which we could find no opening. We therefore continued along the shore towards the point where the flag was flying. Having gone some way, we found an opening on our right. The underwood and branches had evidently been cut away by an axe, and seemed to lead from the flagstaff rock towards some place in the interior. Dick Tarbox leading the way, we advanced along the path, keeping a look-out among the trunks of the trees on every side, lest any treacherous enemies might be lurking there. The ground rose somewhat. At length we emerged into the open space, where there were signs of rude cultivation; and further on appeared a cottage raised on poles about three feet from the ground, very similar to the building we had put up in our island, but considerably larger. This, we concluded, must be the habitation of the people who had erected the flagstaff. As we got nearer to it, we were saluted by the loud voices of birds—a number of the numerous tribes found in these regions. Such screeching, crying, cooing, shrieking, and chattering, I had never before heard; while from wooden cages on every side, or from under small huts of curious construction, came forth the cries of all sorts of animals. Still, no one appeared. Presently we heard a shot at a little distance, and discovered a path leading to where it came from. Tarbox fired as a signal, being sure, from what we saw in the cottage, that its occupant was not likely to be evilly disposed towards us. As we went on, we saw, coming through the open glade before us, a tall figure, with a gun in his hand, followed by another carrying a basket, and several birds slung over his shoulders.

“A veritable Robinson Crusoe!” I exclaimed.

The figure answered, indeed, in every respect, the description I had seen of that far-famed adventurer. There was the pointed, palm-leaf hat; the rough skin leggings; a belt round the waist, with hunting-knife and all sorts of things stuck in it; boots of skin; and a gun in his hand (though, I suspect, Robinson Crusoe must have used a bow and arrow—at all events, he must have done so when his powder was expended). The man behind him, too, was in all respects like his man Friday; fully as dark-skinned, though perhaps with rather more clothing than Friday was accustomed to wear, as his dress was similar to that of the leading figure.

“Hilloa, my friends! where do you come from?” he exclaimed, in a loud, cheery voice. “What! have you found me out at last?”

“Why, friend, we saw a flag flying from the point out there, and took it for granted that somebody or other was here on shore wanting to be taken off; and if you wish to come with us, we have directions to take you on board our brig, which lies in the bay out there.”

“Yes, indeed, I do; for I have been waiting here long enough almost to have lost all account of time,” answered the tall man. “I have a pretty large family, however; and unless your brig is a good-sized one, I doubt whether you can carry us all.”

“What! have you got a wife and children living here?” asked Tarbox. “We saw nothing of them as we came along.”

“No, no, no!” answered the stranger; “I have no wife; and as for my children, I cannot say that you would consider them as such. Probably, however, you heard the voices of my family as you passed my house.”

“Ho, ho! all those birds and beasts, you mean, friend!” said Tarbox. “Well, as to that, as we have a gentleman on board, the owner of the brig, who has a fancy that way, I do not think he will refuse to have as many as the craft will hold. But it will take some little time, I suspect, to build houses for them; for I suppose they are not tame enough to be allowed to run at liberty about the decks?”

“Not exactly,” answered the stranger. “Some of them have rather quarrelsome dispositions, and they would be apt to fall out with each other, and perhaps with the crew. However, a considerable number are turned into mummies, though they fill somewhat large cages altogether; and as I have spent so much of my time in collecting them, I have no intention of leaving them behind. If you can take them, I will go with you; but if not, I must get you to send another vessel to bring me off. The craft which brought me here must either have been lost in a typhoon or destroyed by pirates, for she did not return at the time appointed; and after waiting month after month, and year after year, I almost gave up all hopes of again seeing a civilised man. I have had visitors, to be sure, on the island; but I did not like their looks, as I thought they were more likely to stick their krisses into me than to carry me away to a civilised place; and therefore I had to keep out of sight. Still, at last I began to regret not being able to exhibit my treasures to my fellow-men capable of appreciating them; and so I rigged that flagstaff you saw, and hoisted a flag as a signal to any passing vessel to put in here. However, most craft, I suppose, keep either along further to the southward, or else to the north of this island; and though I have seen a few passing in the horizon, none have come near enough to distinguish my signal.”

From the way the stranger spoke, I saw at once that he was a man of superior education, in spite of his strange costume.

“Perhaps, sir,” I said, “you would like to come on board and see the owner, Mr Hooker. I am sure he would be delighted to do what he can to assist you.”

“Hooker!” he exclaimed. “Hooker, did you say, young man? Of course I will. If he is the Hooker I know—and from what you say about him, I have little doubt about the matter—I shall be delighted to see him; and I am very sure he will do all he can to assist me.—Stay, however,” he said. “If you will wait a little while, I will accompany you. I must, however, first feed my family, as I may be absent for some time, and they are not accustomed to go without their provisions.”

The noise as we passed the house had been considerable. As the stranger approached it, however, the cries with which his feathered and four-footed friends greeted him were almost deafening. I might have added, no-footed friends, for he had huge pythons, and snakes of all sorts;—tigers, and other wild beasts; and birds, from long-legged storks down to the smallest of the feathered tribes. He and his man Friday were occupied some time in feeding all these numerous creatures, according to their respective wants. They all appeared to know him, and acknowledge him as their master; and he must have employed considerable time in taming many of them. I will describe them by-and-by.

At length the operation of feeding them was over, and he expressed himself ready to accompany us to the boat. He addressed a few words to his man, Tanda, he called him, adding, as he walked away,—“Don’t fear, my lad; I am not going to desert you.—He does not understand that, by the by;” and, turning round again, he spoke to the man in a strange language. He put up his hand to look at the brig. “Well,” he said, as he stepped into the boat, “I scarcely expected ever to see a European vessel come near this island.”

All hands able to appear on deck were collected at the gangway to gaze at us as we approached. They certainly did regard our companion with looks of astonishment as he stepped up the side.

“Mr Hooker is below, sir,” I said. “I will let him know that you are here.”

I ran down into the cabin, eager to give the intelligence to my friend.

“He did not give his name,” I answered; “but he said he was an old friend of yours.”

“An old friend of mine out here? Can it possibly be—and yet I think it must. Beg him to come down. Oh! how I wish I was able to go on shore and help him to get off his valuables! Strange! that is strange!” I heard him say as I left the cabin.

I found the stranger in conversation with Emily and Grace, with whom he seemed greatly interested. He was patting Emily’s cheek, and looking with an inquiring glance into her face, when I appeared.

Mr Hooker endeavoured to rise from his chair when the stranger entered.

“Is it possible?” he exclaimed, holding out both his hands.

“Hooker,” exclaimed the stranger, “I know you!”

“And Sedgwick,” answered the other, “in your somewhat out-of-the-way garb, I know you still, my friend—my master in science—my instructor in knowledge—”

The two friends eagerly shook hands, the stranger sinking down into a chair, and looking eagerly into Mr Hooker’s face.

“You will recover, never fear—you will recover,” he exclaimed. “You have had a touch of jungle fever; and if you can get on shore for a few days, and live in the open air, instead of in this confined cabin, you will quickly pick up your strength. But, Hooker, I had no idea you were married. Are these young people on board your children? and the lady on deck there, is she your wife?”

“No, no, no,” answered Mr Hooker. “The old Dutchwoman is the young girls’ governante. And it is extraordinary! Can you think who those children are?”

“Had I not seen the girl I might have been puzzled; for I cannot conjecture what has brought them out here,” and he turned round and looked at me. “Yes; I recognise his father too.—Is your father out in these parts?” he asked.

“No, sir,” I answered. “They are both dead.”

“Both dead, did you say? Your mother dead? For her sake I chiefly longed to return to England; and she gone, boy! Do you know who I am? I am your uncle! Did you ever hear of your uncle, Tom Sedgwick, the naturalist?”

“Indeed I have,” I answered. “And I heard that he had gone away, long ago, to the Eastern Seas, and was supposed to have lost his life.”

“That was but natural enough, as I did not appear,” answered Mr Sedgwick. “But it is very wonderful that you should have come to the very place where I have been so long living apart from my fellow-creatures. And your sister, what is her name?”

I told him.

“And the other little girl, is she a relation? for I have no difficulty in distinguishing which is my niece.”

“No; she is Captain Davenport’s daughter,” I answered.

“A nice, pretty little girl. But Emily—I must see Emily again.”

I ran to call her. She came down trembling; for she had often heard our mother speak of our uncle, and for her sake had longed to see him. Mr Sedgwick pressed her fondly in his arms.

“Yes, you are the very image of your mother,” he said, looking in her face again and again.

Thus, for some time, we sat talking of the past, rather than the present.

“Well, Hooker!” he exclaimed at last, “I wish you were on shore. We must see how you are by to-morrow or next day; and, in the meantime, we must get these young people and their worthy nurse to come to my house and see my wonders. I can easily manage to find accommodation for them; for I built it originally in the expectation of having some companions. Walter, you will accompany them, as I suppose, Hooker, you can spare him?”

“I have no doubt my skipper can do without him,” answered Mr Hooker; “though, I can tell you, he is of no little importance on board, as he acts the part of mate; and a very good seaman he is, too, for his age, and the time he has been at sea.”

I asked Mr Hooker if Oliver could accompany us, as I knew he could be spared. “And Merlin too. The old fellow will like a run on shore; and you will let him come also,” I said, turning to my uncle.

“He looks too wise an animal to quarrel with any of my friends,” he observed; “and I shall be very glad to see him.”

Frau Ursula and the young ladies quickly got ready a few things to take on shore. Evening was approaching. However, the old friends had a good deal to talk about before we shoved off. In a short time, we were pretty well at our ease with Mr Sedgwick; and the girls looked forward with delight to the wonders they hoped to see on the island.

We landed at a rather more convenient spot, which Mr Sedgwick pointed out. Roger Trew, who had leave to remain on shore, assisted in carrying up the beds for the ladies; while Oliver and I took charge of the other articles they required. The boat then pulled back to the brig. The moment Merlin landed he scampered off along the shore, bounding and gambolling just like a young dog, so delighted did he appear to be able to stretch his legs. He then came up to me, and licking my hand, followed close at my heels.

“I do not quite like the look of the weather,” observed Mr Sedgwick, glancing back at the sea. “I wish I had told them on board the brig to get out another anchor; or it might have been safer, to be sure, to stand out into the offing. Stay; there will be no harm in giving them a caution.”

He went back to the beach and hailed; but the boat was already at a considerable distance, and Tarbox did not appear to hear him.

“Well, I hope it is all right,” he observed. “I have often seen this weather, and nothing has come of it. At the same time, it generally looks like this just before a heavy gale; and this open bay is not a good place for a vessel to be caught in when it blows hard.”

Chapter Twenty One.

Sedgwick Island and its wonders.

Our uncle introduced us to his house with evident pride. He and his man Tanda had bestowed a great deal of pains on it. It was constructed entirely after the Malay fashion—of wood, bamboo, and matting, though raised higher off the ground than the Malays are accustomed to build theirs. The floors were of split bamboo, sufficiently strong to bear a person’s weight, and yet giving a pleasant spring as we passed over them. They were kept in their place by long strips of ratan, passed transversely between them, much in the way of a cane-bottom chair. Over these mats were spread—not so neatly made, perhaps, as those employed by the wealthy Malays, but still very well done. The walls were made of the palm-leaves which I have before described, fixed in panels, very neat and pleasing to the eye, and perfectly weather-tight. The roof was high pitched, and had broad overhanging eaves, giving it very much the appearance of a Swiss cottage. A broad verandah ran round each side of the house, the rooms opening into it. They were divided from each other by thick mats stretched from the ceiling to the floor, and could be lifted up at pleasure to allow the air to circulate in every direction. It would have been impossible to build with the materials at hand an abode better suited to the purpose.

“Here, Frau, you and your young ladies shall occupy these two apartments,” said my uncle to Frau Ursula, who stood smiling from ear to ear at the polite way in which he addressed her. “You shall have bedsteads brought in directly; and I must leave you to arrange them, while Tanda and I get supper ready. The lads here and the sailor will no doubt assist us.”

Roger Trew, who had ascended the ladder with his bundle of bedding, deposited it in the room my uncle pointed out, and forthwith commenced unlashing it; and knowing that he would prove a better assistant to the dame than Oliver and I should, we accompanied my uncle to what he called his cooking-shed, at the back of the house. Here he had brought water from a spring in the forest, and had made a drain towards the sea to carry off the refuse. He had a variety of fish, flesh, and fowl in his larder, which was in a cool place at the back of the house.

I scarcely know what I shall describe first. The fruit was the most attractive. There was the delicious mangostin—of a spherical form. The outer part is a thick rough covering, and it has a white opaque centre, an inch or more in diameter. Each of the four or five parts into which it is divided, contains a small seed. The white part is what is eaten. It has a slightly sweet taste, and a rich yet delicate and peculiar flavour, which it is impossible to describe. Then there was the rambutan—a globular fruit, an inch and a half in diameter. The rind is of a light red, adorned with coarse scattered bristles. Within, there is a semi-transparent pulp, of a slightly acid taste. Next there was the elliptical shaped mango, containing a small stone of the same form. The interior, when the tough outer skin was removed, consisted of a soft, pulpy, fibrous mass, of a bright yellow. Another fruit appeared, in the form of long clusters, about the size of a small bird’s egg. It was the duku. The outer coating was thin and leathery, and of a dull yellow. In the inside were several long seeds, surrounded by a transparent pulp, of a sweet and pleasantly acid taste. The durian, however, my uncle told us, was among the most esteemed of all the fruits in that region. It is spherical in form, six or eight inches in diameter, and generally covered with many tubercles. The interior is divided into several parts. On breaking the shell, we found in each division a seed as large as a chestnut, surrounded by a pale yellow substance, of the consistency of thick cream; but the odour was enough at first to make me have no wish to eat it. It seemed to me like putrid animal matter, and peculiarly strong.

“You do not like the odour, Walter,” observed my uncle. “Nor did I at first, but I have now become so fond of the fruit, that I prefer it to any other. But, after all, these fruits are not to be compared to those of a tree growing just outside, at the back of my house—the far-famed bread-fruit tree. Here, Tanda,” and he spoke a few words to him. “Look there, do you see it?”

It was a tree upwards of forty feet high, with enormous sharply lobed leaves, some of which were one foot wide and one and a half long. The fruit which Tanda picked was of the form and size of a melon, and attached by its stem directly to the trunk.

“We must cut some, for it is the chief vegetable I have in season,” said my uncle, cutting it in slices, and handing it to Tanda to fry. “We have some molasses to eat with it, produced from the sap of the gomuti-palm.”

Closely allied to it is the Jack-fruit, which resembles the bread-fruit. This latter, Mr Sedgwick told us, attains the weight of nearly seventy-five pounds; so that even an Indian coolie can only carry one at a time. The part, he showed us, which is generally eaten, is a soft pulpy substance, enveloping each seed. The bread-fruit was baked entirely in the hot embers. It tasted, I thought, very much like mashed potatoes and milk. My uncle said he always compared it to Yorkshire pudding. It was a little fibrous, perhaps, towards the centre, though generally smooth, and somewhat of the consistence of yeast dumplings and batter pudding. Tanda fried part of it in slices, and also made a curry of another part. We had it also as a vegetable, with a gravy poured over it, to eat with meat. Another dish was prepared with sugar and milk, which we were surprised to see, and a treacly substance procured from some sugar-canes grown in a plantation near the house. It made a most delicious pudding.

“You see, I have become somewhat of an epicure,” observed my uncle; “but indeed it has been one of my sources of amusement to see what delicious dishes I could make out of the many bounties which Nature has spread round me.”

We had also, for meat, some pork—part of it fresh and part cured—a joint of venison, and a piece of beef from an animal with which I was afterwards to become acquainted.

I can scarcely describe the fish; but I know, among other things, there was one of the enormous crabs which we saw at Amboyna.

Our dinner was spread on a bamboo table, covered with mats, in what my uncle called his grand hall! It put me in mind somewhat of an ancient hall surrounded by trophies of the chase; partly also of a necromancer’s cavern, as from the ceiling hung curious stuffed animals, skulls, bones, dried plants, and other objects of natural history, in what, I had no doubt, seemed to the occupant perfect order, but which was somewhat incomprehensible to us. When dish after dish was put on the table, Frau Ursula lifted up her hands with astonishment.

“You do live like a prince, Mr Sedgwick,” she observed. “What kind fairy sends you all these good things?”

“I won them with my own arm, with the assistance of my faithful man Tanda here—or, as these young people seem inclined to call him, Friday; and I hope you will show your gratitude to the kind Providence which gives them, by doing justice to them.”

As dish after dish was brought up, the astonishment of all the party increased.

“Surely, uncle, you must have some fairy cook to prepare all these good things,” said Emily.

“I confess without the aid of Tanda they could not be produced,” he answered. “I am greatly helped by him, though occasionally I have given a hint or a little assistance. And now let us drink each other’s health in this palm-wine,” he said, producing a very nice-looking liquid from a huge shell.

Our plates, I should have said, were flat shells; while our cups were made of bamboo, as were our knives and forks.

“I must introduce you to my menagerie to-morrow morning,” observed my uncle. “There is not time to-night—indeed, some of my pets have retired to their lairs or gone to roost. If you hear strange noises at night, don’t be alarmed; as possibly some of them may be inclined to utter their natural cries during the night.”

Our conversation was altogether very lively; as we, of course, had a great deal to tell our uncle, and were also greatly interested by the account he gave of his expeditions, and the way in which he had lived on the island since he had been deserted. Sometimes he had thought of building a vessel and making his way to some civilised port; but the want of proper tools for cutting down large timber, and his ignorance of nautical affairs, deterred him.

“I thought it was as well to leave well alone,” he said. “I have here plenty of provisions; and I thought I could study natural history, which brought me here; and that, some time or other, some vessel would call and take me away. Had you, Walter and Emily, not come, however, I rather think my heart would have failed me even at the last moment, and I could scarcely have made up my mind to quit my solitary home and the style of life to which I have become accustomed.”

Our conversation was at length interrupted by a loud rattling peal of thunder, which crashed over our heads as if the whole heavens above them were rent in two. A blast swept over the forest, and we could hear the trees cracking as they bent before the wind. The house shook to its very foundation, and Emily and Grace trembled with alarm.

“No, no, my dears; don’t fear,” exclaimed Frau Ursula. “This is nothing to what I have heard in Ternate. There, one night, all the houses tumbled down, and the mountain sent up stones and cinders, which came rattling down on our heads.”

“There is another, though!” exclaimed Grace, clinging to the old lady’s arm.

Scarcely had the second crash of thunder passed away, than down came the rain, pattering on the roof and floor of the verandah. It seemed as if a waterspout had broken over us.

“I am thankful that you, my friends, are on shore,” observed my uncle; “but the brig—I feel anxious about her.” He got up, and put on a thick reed-made coat. “And here are some more,” he observed, giving Oliver and me one. “But no, Oliver, you stay with the ladies; and you too, Walter.”

I entreated that I might accompany him. He gave Roger Trew a similar covering, which completely sheltered us from the rain; and leaving Tanda and Oliver in charge of the house, we hurried away towards the shore. Although the gale had been blowing but a few minutes, already heavy seas came rolling in and breaking in masses of foam upon the rocks. We could see the brig, through the thickening gloom, at her anchors.

“I trust she may hold her ground,” said my uncle, as we watched her, already rising and falling with quick jerks, as the seas rapidly passed under her. “What say you?” he said, turning to Roger Trew. “Do you think, if she made sail, she could beat out of this bay, for I fear greatly that with the sea that rolls in here, when there is wind like this, she will be unable to remain at anchor?”

“I am very sure Mr Thudicumb will do his best to beat out of the bay,” answered Roger Trew. “I know that no seaman would like to be caught on a lee-shore like this in such a gale; and if it lasts long, even though the anchors do hold, it is likely enough to tear the stem out of her. The brig is not a bad craft for fine weather sailing, but she is lightly put together, and I wish that she was under weigh clear of the land, and then I would not fear for her.”

“Oh, my friend, my friend,” exclaimed my uncle, “would that you had been safe on shore!”

Scarcely had he spoken, when a flash of lightning, in a thick zig-zag stream, darted from the clouds overhead, running along the ground close to us, followed by the most deafening crash of thunder I ever heard. For an instant our eyes were blinded. We could scarcely see each other, much less observe any object out at sea. It was a minute or more before we recovered our sight.

“She is driving—she is driving!” exclaimed Roger Trew. “They are trying to make sail on her, but it is too late! The sea struck her bows just as she was paying off, and now here she comes bodily in towards the shore.”

We were able, by shading our eyes, once more to look in the direction of the brig. Too true were Roger’s words, and we saw her helplessly driving in towards the wild rocks near which we stood.

“Is the water deep, sir?” asked Roger. “If so, she may drive in close enough to get the people on shore before she goes to pieces.”

“I fear not,” answered Mr Sedgwick. “Reefs run out in all directions, and though, having no boat, I have been unable to sound round the island, yet, from the way I have seen the water breaking, I fear that there are reefs between us and her.”

“If we had a boat we might go off and get aboard her before she strikes,” exclaimed Roger. “Have not you a boat, sir? You would go, would you not? Mr Walter here, I know, would.”

“Unhappily I have no boat,” answered my uncle, in a tone almost of despair. “The crew may, perchance, reach the shore; but my poor friend, made weak from illness, will have but little chance of escaping with life.”

“We will do our best, sir—we will do our best,” answered Roger. “I will try and swim off to her when she strikes, and before the sea scatters her timbers; but it will be a tough job. I will not hide that from myself or you, sir.”

“Here, Walter,” said my uncle, “go and call Tanda, and tell him to bring as much ratan as he and you can carry. He is a clever fellow, in some respects, and his wits may help us.”

I was running off, when my uncle cried out—

“Stop, by-the-by, you may frighten the ladies, and he will not know what you mean. I will go myself, and you remain and see what you and our sailor friend here can do in the meantime, should the brig strike.”

My uncle hurried off to the house, and Roger and I, watching the brig, proceeded a short distance along the shore to a point whence a reef of rocks ran out, towards which it appeared to us that she was driving. How fearfully sharp and rugged did those rocks seem! I had thought little about them before; but now, when I feared that my friends were going to be hurled against them, I wished they were rounder, and covered with sea-weed, to which they might cling. We had each of us, as we left the house, seized a long bamboo pole. With this Roger and I made our way towards the point of a ledge of rock above water. Merlin, who had come with us down to the beach, followed close at our heels, seeming fully to understand the danger of our friends; for, as we stood watching the brig, he stretched out his head and uttered strangely loud barks, which seemed to have a tone of melancholy in them.

Nearer and nearer came the brig. Part of the bay, under the protection of the headland I spoke of, was rather more sheltered than it was further on. This gave us some hopes of the vessel holding together till the sea had sufficiently moderated to allow Mr Hooker to reach the shore. The rain continued pouring in torrents, driving in our faces. Often we could scarcely see the vessel. Then again a vivid flash of lightning, followed by a crash of thunder, showed her to us as she heeled over to the blast, driving slowly but surely towards the fatal rocks. Sometimes with difficulty we could keep our footing on the reef. I was anxiously looking for the return of my uncle and Tanda. Perhaps Tanda might swim to her. I myself felt greatly inclined to make the attempt, in spite of the sea rolling in. Now for an instant the rain partially ceased, and shading our eyes, we could see the brig still nearer than before. Then a huge sea came rolling in. She rose on its crest, driven onwards with greater rapidity than before. Suddenly she seemed to stop. The sea washed over her.

“She has struck! she has struck!” cried Roger.

Her masts, however, still stood; but we expected them every instant to go.

“Poor fellows! poor fellows!” cried Roger. “Master Walter, I have no kith nor kin; I will try and get off to them; and if I am lost, you will tell them that I wished to lend them a hand, but had not the power.”

“Stop!” I said; “here come my uncle and the black man, and they may have some plan, without your being obliged to risk your life.”

“As to that, it is not worth thinking about,” answered Roger; “but we will see what they propose.”

In the meantime we endeavoured to ascertain what the people on board the brig were going to do. The darkness, however, was so great, that we could not distinguish anything going forward among them. There the brig lay, however, hard and fast; the seas breaking now over one end, now over the other, but not with such violence as we dreaded.

Chapter Twenty Two.

Wreck of the Dugong.

The arrival of my uncle with his man, carrying a quantity of the light ratan rope, gave us some hopes of being able to rescue our friends on board the brig.

“To be sure, this will float as easily as a cork,” exclaimed Roger; “and I see no reason why I should not tow the end off aboard the brig. You, Tanda, pay it out as you see I want it.”

Again my uncle warned him of the danger.

“Very true, sir,” he answered, fastening the end round his waist; “but, you see, if we seamen had to stop every time we saw danger, we should very soon have to go ashore and take to nursing babies. No, sir; my notion is that the thing is to be done. It may fail; but if it succeeds, why, we may manage to get most of those poor fellows safe on shore.”

While we were speaking, the dog gave another loud howl, as if to make a signal to those on board; and we fancied it could not fail to be heard even above the roar of the breakers, although our voices could scarcely have reached them. It was heard at all events by the rest of our party; for directly afterwards the two girls and Oliver were seen coming down from the house in spite of the pelting rain, covered up in mat cloaks. The Frau followed behind, entreating them to return.

“Oh, you will be wet; you will be washed away!” she cried out. “Come back! come back! What is the matter?”

“We were afraid something dreadful had occurred,” said Emily, as she reached the inner end of the rocks.

I entreated her and Grace not to come further, lest the seas, which occasionally washed up, might sweep them away. Oliver, however, clambered along to where we were.

“I may be of some use,” he said. “Let me do what I can.”

“Well, then, help to pay out this rope, Oliver,” said Roger Trew, who was securing the end round his own waist, having thrown off his jacket and shoes, retaining only his trowsers, which he fastened round his waist. “No time to be lost!” he added. “You pray for me, Walter. It will be a difficult job, but it ought to be done, and so it must!”

Saying this, he plunged in, and bravely buffeting the sea which broke in showers round us, was in a short time free of the surf. He was not alone, however. Merlin, uttering a loud bark, plunged in directly afterwards, and soon overtook him, swimming by his side, as if wishing to afford him support or companionship. Away they went, we gradually paying out the light buoyant rope, which floated in a way no ordinary rope would have done.

“I am afraid,” said Mr Sedgwick, “that its strength is scarcely sufficient to enable those on board to pass over it to the shore.”

“No, sir,” I said; “but if we can haul in a stouter rope by means of it, the same end will be accomplished.”

In a short time we could no longer distinguish Roger and Merlin; but we knew by the way the rope continued to be dragged out that they were still making progress. Now, however, the rope seemed to stop. We knew that it could not yet have reached the vessel. After a time we felt it again drawn on. Again there was a time of great suspense. It made but little progress. Still we felt that it was drawn out, and that was all that could be said. How eagerly we looked towards the vessel, and examined the whole of the intervening space! Presently we saw an object floating on the water. Now it sank, now it appeared on the foaming crest of a sea which came rushing towards the shore. “Help! help!” exclaimed a voice. “Lend a hand!”

Passing a piece of the remaining rope round my waist, I begged my uncle and Oliver to hold it, while Tanda paid out the cable, of which but a small part now only remained. I rushed forward as the person was borne onward towards the rock. Stretching out my hand, I caught him as the next sea was about to sweep him up into the bay on one side, where he would have been dashed on the sharp rocks which lined it. I threw myself back, my uncle and Oliver hauling in the rope, when I found I had Roger Trew by the hand.

“I could not do it!” he exclaimed; “but there is another who will succeed, or I am much mistaken. Merlin saw how it would be, I have a notion, from the first; and when I found I must give in or go to the bottom, I just threw him the bight of the rope. He seized it in his mouth, and swam on as well as if he was in smooth water, and I let the sea bring me back again. If Merlin does not succeed, I will have another try at it, though; but I think he will.”

While he was speaking a jerk was given, apparently at the other end of the rope. Directly afterwards we heard Tanda utter an exclamation of dismay.

“It is gone!” cried Mr Sedgwick. “The end is gone!”

“Then I’ll have it!” exclaimed Roger, plunging into the water as the end of the rope glided by at a little distance.

So quick was he that he caught it; and though he was carried to another point of the rock, a few yards from where we were standing, he was able once more to climb up and regain a safe position. With the quickness of a practised seaman he carried it up to a point, where he made the end fast in such a way that it was not likely again to slip.

We now all stood anxiously watching to see what would next occur. We could do no more, unless we found the end of our rope slackening, as a sign that another had been fastened to it. We should then haul away on it. The minutes seemed hours as we stood on the shore anxiously looking out towards the brig. Bits of timber came floating on shore; now a piece of a broken spar; now parts of the bulwarks. We were afraid that ere long the brig would begin to break up. Meantime Frau Ursula had been urging the girls to go back to the house; but they were too deeply interested in what was taking place to listen to her entreaties. They thought not of the pelting rain; they thought not of the driving spray or furious wind. Their hearts were with our friends on board—with Mr Hooker, kind Mr Thudicumb, honest Dick Tarbox, and the faithful Potto Jumbo. Presently we saw a round object floating towards us.

“It is a man’s head!” cried Oliver. “Let me go this time.”

“No, no,” I answered; “I am not at all tired from my other swim, and I will try and help him.”

I was getting ready to plunge in, in spite of Oliver’s entreaties, when, on looking again, a flash of lightning at the moment lighting up the top of the wave, we saw the head of Merlin as he bravely swam towards us. We rushed into the water to help him, lest the send of the sea might have driven him against the rock before he had gained a footing. Instead of shaking himself, as a dog generally does, as soon as he was clear of the water, he stood perfectly still. We then saw that he had got a bottle round his neck.

“A letter from Hooker; I am sure of it!” said Mr Sedgwick. “It will give us important information. We cannot read it here, however. Come, young ladies, I must take you up to the house, and comfort the Frau’s heart. She is afraid you will catch ague or fever, or cold at all events; and she has reason for her fears—so come along.”

Very unwillingly the two girls left the scene; Emily entreating me, as she went away, not to run any more risks of being drowned. Curiously enough, Merlin, having performed his duty, accompanied Mr Sedgwick and the girls up to the house. In a short time Mr Sedgwick returned, saying, that the note was from Mr Hooker, to the effect that he hoped the vessel would hold together till the hurricane was over, as she gave no signs of breaking up, while there was a sufficient space free of water below, to afford shelter to all who remained on board. “I am sorry to say,” he added, “that several of the crew have attempted to swim on shore. Two of them we saw lost before they had gone many fathoms from the ship; but we hope the others have arrived safely. We, however, will make a hawser fast to the rope you sent us by that noble creature Merlin, that in case we are mistaken about the brig holding together, we may have a better prospect of saving our lives.”

On hearing this we again went to the end of the point, and found that we could haul in upon the rope; and by the resistance it made, it was evident that a hawser had been secured to it. It was very heavy work; but at length, by our united efforts, we got the hawser secured to a point of the rock. We had now a communication with our poor brig, but we trembled to think of the danger to which Mr Hooker would be exposed should he attempt to make use of it in his present weak health.

“A short time ago he would have come along that rope without the slightest difficulty,” observed Oliver; “but now I am afraid that, were he to make the attempt, he could scarcely resist the strength of the waves, and would be washed off.”

“I am afraid so too, Oliver,” said Roger Trew. “Sooner than he should do that, I would go out and try to help him ashore.”

Attached to the end of the hawser, I should observe, we found a light rope. This was evidently sent that we might get another stout one on shore. We found on trying it that we were right in our conjecture, and hauling away as before, we got a second strong rope united to the vessel and the land. Mr Sedgwick now wanted us to go back to the house, but we could not think of leaving the shore till our friends were in safety. He himself said that he would remain to watch, should any change take place. It was an anxious time, for instead of decreasing, the wind was blowing even harder than before. It seemed a wonder that the Dugong could stand so much battering. Still, we could dimly see her through the gloom, her masts yet standing, though heeling over towards the land. Every now and then a huge sea swept over the larger portion of the wreck; and numerous pieces of plank thrown on the rocks showed us that already her bulwarks at all events were giving way.

“I suspect that Dick Tarbox and the others will not desert Mr Hooker; and they are afraid of his suffering should he attempt to come ashore,” I observed to Roger Trew.

“That is it, Master Walter,” he answered. “Depend on it they will not leave him till they are washed out of the ship. I should like to go on board and see how they are getting on.”

I urged him, however, not to make the attempt.

“It is far more easy for them to come to us than for you to go on board,” I observed. “Let us wait patiently; perhaps as the night advances the gale will abate.”

Still the wind blew as hard as ever. At length, just as Mr Sedgwick had gone back to the house to look after the girls and Frau Ursula, a shout reached our ears. We hurried to the point of the rock, and there we saw what looked like a huge piece of wreck being driven towards us.

“I am afraid the brig is breaking up,” I observed. “Poor Mr Hooker! What can we do to help him?”

We tried to pierce the gloom to ascertain who was on the wreck. By degrees we saw that, instead of a piece of wreck, it was a small boat. Those in her were holding on to the hawsers. Now she rose, now she fell, as the waves passed under her. We could scarcely understand how she could live in that tossing sea, with the weight of several people on board. At length she seemed to stop, and turned round broadside to us.

“She must go over,” shouted Roger. “Look out; help them as they come ashore.”

She was at that time near enough for us to see two persons leap overboard; one, it seemed, holding on to the other. They approached. Again a voice shouted “Look out!” Roger Trew ran to the point of the rock, holding on to the rope, and stretching over into the sea. We could now distinguish the two men. Nearer and nearer they came.

“Give me your hand, Cooky, give me your hand,” cried Roger, stretching out his arm; and then I saw that Potto Jumbo was working along the hawser, with Mr Hooker secured by a rope to his back. The dawn was just breaking. The cry of some sea-fowl as they passed sounded ominously in our ears. Even then I feared that Potto Jumbo would lose his hold, or that Mr Hooker, weak from his illness, might be torn away by the fury of the sea. I ran forward with another rope, the end of which Oliver held, and just as Roger caught hold of Potto Jumbo’s hand, and was dragging him up, I grasped him by the arm. Mr Hooker seemed almost exhausted, and could not utter a word. With the help of Oliver and Tanda we at length got them up on the rock, though not till Potto Jumbo had severely hurt his legs against the sharp points.

“Heaven be praised, it is done! You all right soon, Mr Hooker,” exclaimed Potto Jumbo, as he committed his charge to our hands.

The boat meantime was slowly drifting in, in spite of the efforts of two men on board to hold her; one indeed appeared to have been hurt, and able to exert but little strength. Who they were we could not then see, but I hoped that my old friend Dick Tarbox had escaped.

“Is the boatswain one of them?” I asked of Potto Jumbo.

“Yes, massa, yes,” answered Potto; “and t’other Mr Thudicumb. But help dem, help dem; no mind me. I take care of Mr Hooker; Mr Thudicumb no help himself.”

It was time indeed for us to exert all our strength, for the boat was now being driven helplessly towards the rock; and it seemed but too probable, should she strike it, that those in her would be thrown out, and very likely swept off by the sea: indeed, they were in a more dangerous position than had they held on alone to the rope. There was on one side of the rock a sort of gulf, which ran up some way towards the beach. Should the boat strike the point, she would very likely be dashed to pieces, but if we could manage to get hold of her as she drove by on one side, we might, I knew, rescue our friends and save her. This thought passed rapidly through my mind. The rest of our party saw what was likely to happen as well as I did, and together we eagerly stood waiting for the boat to reach us.

On she came. Mr Thudicumb managed to crawl to the helm, while Dick Tarbox stood in the bows. Another sea came roaring in. The boatswain held a rope in his hand. I almost shrieked with terror as I saw the boat, as I thought, coming towards the point; but the mate, moving the helm, she grazed by it, and the next instant Tarbox hove the rope. We caught it, and hauling on together as we ran along, drew the boat’s head for an instant in towards us. Tarbox leaped out and seized the rope. Potto, who had placed his burden on a secure part of the rock, joined us. The following sea almost filled the boat, but we dragged her bows in, though as we did so she came with a fearful crash against the rock. Tarbox then leaping back, seized the mate, and with almost superhuman strength dragged him out over the side on to the rock, while we hauled the boat up half out of the water.

“You are safe, Mr Thudicumb, you are safe!” exclaimed Tarbox to the mate, who scarcely seemed aware of what had happened.

While Oliver, Roger Trew, and Tanda attended to the boat, Potto Jumbo again lifted up Mr Hooker, and Tarbox and I assisted Mr Thudicumb along over the ledge towards the shore.

“Are there any others left on board?” asked Roger Trew. “If there are, we will pull back and try to bring them on shore.”

“No one, no one,” answered the boatswain; “all left before we did, more’s the pity. They would not stop, in spite of all we could say to them.”

We were soon met by Mr Sedgwick, who had returned from the house. He cordially welcomed his old friend, moved almost to tears by the condition in which he saw him.

“Rouse up, Hooker, my dear fellow!” he exclaimed. “You will soon have a roof over your head and a dry bed to lie in and willing hands to take care of you.”

We soon got the party up to the house, when Frau Ursula and the girls began eagerly to busy themselves in arranging the beds for the two sick men. Mr Thudicumb had been hurt by the falling of a spar, and our uncle, who fortunately possessed considerable surgical knowledge, at once attended to his injuries.

Daylight had now returned, and as the sun rose the gale began to abate. Mr Hooker and the mate were put to bed in my uncle’s room, his own couch accommodating one, and a mattress composed of mats serving as a bed for the other. The rest of the party were now assembled in what my uncle called his hall.

“And now, my good Frau, you and the young ladies must go to your roost. As you have been night-birds, you must sleep in the day, and we will look after these good fellows, who, I daresay, will not be sorry to take some of the remains of our feast of last night.”

“No, indeed, sir, we shall not,” said Dick Tarbox; “for the truth is, we have been far too anxious to think of grub, in the first place; and it was a hard matter to get at any, in the second.”

It was amusing to see the eagerness with which the shipwrecked men set to work upon the provisions placed before them.

“The sooner you get off those wet clothes of yours the better,” observed my uncle; “and though we are not very rich in garments here, we can supply you with mat petticoats and a shirt apiece while your things are drying.”

In a few minutes we all appeared dressed in the costume thus furnished, and certainly we looked more like savages than civilised people as we sat round the board.

“Now, lads, there is one thing I think we ought to do,” said Dick Tarbox, “and that is, thank Heaven for bringing us ashore in safety, and giving us such good quarters. If we had been driven on a coast not far from here, I suspect we should have found very different treatment. The chances are our heads would have been off our shoulders before we had been many hours in the company of the natives, and very likely, instead of enjoying a good supper like this—or a breakfast, we ought to call it—we should have been served up as a feast to the savages.”

Our meal over, Tanda brought in a further supply of mats, in which we all wrapped ourselves, and were very soon fast asleep, I was awoke by hearing my uncle’s voice calling to Tanda, and looking up, I saw that they were placing another meal on the table. Our clothes were then brought to us.

“There, lads,” said my uncle, “you are now more fit than you were to appear before the ladies; and as they are on foot, I will bring them into the hall. I am glad also to say both Mr Hooker and the mate are very much better for their rest, and I hope in a few days they will be themselves again.”

The first few hours we spent on the island appeared to me like a dream. I had been so tired on the night of the wreck, that scarcely was one meal over than I was asleep again, and only woke up to see a fresh repast prepared for us. As soon as I was somewhat recovered, I hurried out, with Tarbox and Potto Jumbo, to the shore to see what had become of the wreck. I gave a shout of joy when I saw that her masts were still standing, though she had been driven so high up on the rock that it was very evident that we should not be able to get her off again. The boat still lay where Roger Trew and Oliver had hauled her up. We hurried down to examine her. A hole had been torn in her bottom, rendering her unfit for use.

“Never fear,” said the boatswain, on examining her. “We may soon repair this damage and be able to get off to the wreck in her. I hope we shall find many things on board of use to us, even though we cannot get the old barky afloat again.”

The next thing to be done, therefore, was to repair the boat. We hurried back to the house to see if Mr Sedgwick was able to assist us. As soon as he heard the nature of the injury, he produced some planks and nails exactly suited for our purpose.

“I cannot supply you with pitch,” he said, “but there are several gums in the island which will answer the object, and here are copper nails enough, if you use them with economy.”

We of course at once set to work, and quickly patched up the little boat. At first I had a vague idea that she might enable us to get off to some civilised place, but on seeing her once more in the water, I felt that that would be hopeless, as she could only hold three or four persons at the utmost in smooth water.

When Emily and Grace heard that we were going off to the vessel, they entreated us to be cautious.

“I do so dread the sea,” said Emily. “I should be very thankful if I thought I had not again to cross it.”

“But you would not like to live in this island for ever,” observed Mr Sedgwick. “You will soon be wishing yourself back in the old country, as I have done, I can assure you, very often.”

Oliver and I, with Tarbox and Roger Trew, had arranged to go off in the boat. The oars had fortunately been thrown on shore. Although one of them was broken, two had been preserved uninjured. I did my best to reassure my sister and Grace, and they and the Frau came down to see us off. Tarbox and Oliver pulled, while I steered, and away we went over the now blue sea towards the wreck.

As we drew near we saw the fearful injuries she had received.

A coral rock had forced itself completely through her side; and had she not been thrown high up on the reef, she must inevitably have sunk, as the water flowed in and out with the tide. It was now fortunately low water, and by getting on to the reef, which appeared above the surface, having made our boat secure, we were able to scramble on board. Everything with the exception of the masts had been swept from the deck, while the hold was still nearly full of water. In the cabin, however, we found a variety of useful articles, besides a good supply of provisions. All sorts of things, however, had been thrown out of their places, and lay scattered about the wreck. Having collected, however, as many things as we could carry, we were about to return with them to the boat.

“Stay,” said the boatswain, “we have forgotten the arms. See, here are four muskets against this bulkhead, and Mr Hooker’s fowling-pieces. If we could get some ammunition, we should be able to defend ourselves in case any of the piratical fellows in this neighbourhood should find us out and pay us a visit.”

We were almost giving up the search for ammunition in despair, when we discovered a couple of tins of powder in one of the lockers, evidently placed there by Mr Thudicumb for immediate use. The powder, fortunately, from having been carefully packed in tins, had escaped injury.

We now, laden with our prizes, got back to the boat, and without much difficulty steered clear of the surf to the shore. We were received on landing by Frau Ursula and the two girls, who had been standing for a long time anxiously watching the boat, afraid that some accident had happened. They now assisted us in landing our goods, and carrying them up to the house.

“We must not live idle lives here,” said Emily, laughing; “and as we have no fancy work, we cannot employ our time better than in making ourselves useful.”

I saw the Frau eagerly examining the articles we had brought on shore.

“What! you no think of our clothes?” she exclaimed at length. “You leave the frocks, and gowns, and shoes, and all the little girls’ things? Oh, you thoughtless men!”

We felt ourselves rebuked.

“Well, we must go back at once, Frau,” I answered. “I confess that we ought to have recollected that you would require clothing, and that mat-made garments, however suited to the climate, are not so becoming as those you had on board. We will go back and fetch them.”

“Oh no, no!” exclaimed Grace. “It is already late, and you have had a long row to-day—some accident may be happening.”

“Not much fear of that, miss,” observed Tarbox. “You shall have your duds, even though we had twice as far to pull for them. Just take care that no one shakes his pipe over those tins there,” he observed, pointing to the cases of powder. “They might chance to send the house flying up over the trees, and the unfortunate smoker with it.”

We had by this time landed all the articles we had brought on shore. They were somewhat miscellaneous, but all likely to prove useful. Besides the fire-arms and ammunition, we had found some cases of preserved meat and hams, a cask of biscuit, some tins of pepper and salt and mustard, a case of wine, a cask of pork, a box of cigars, and a couple of Mr Hooker’s cases. We thought it would do his heart good to see them; and I knew they were among those he valued most for their contents.

“That was indeed thoughtful of you,” observed Emily, when she saw the cases.

“It was not I who thought of them,” I answered; “it was Oliver. He said he thought it would cheer up Mr Hooker to know that some of his things had been saved; and we must try and get some more on shore if we can.”

“Oh yes, yes!” exclaimed both the girls together. “Bring his treasures rather than ours. Many of them, probably, he cannot replace; and we can dress, I daresay, in mats, or the cloth I have seen made out of the paper mulberry-tree.”

“Well, well, young ladies,” said Tarbox. “We can find room, I daresay, in the boat for your light things, as well as Mr Hooker’s chests; so I hope, if we can get hold of the things, you will not have to rig up in any outlandish fashion.”

He said this as we were shoving off the boat with our oars; and now, sitting down, we again pulled out towards the wreck.

“The gentleman on shore says he has lived here for several years,” said Oliver. “All that time no vessel has called off here. Now, if we are to get away, would it not be better if we were to try and build one large enough for the purpose, so that we may quit the island whenever it is thought best?”

“You are right, Oliver,” said Tarbox. “If we can get hold of the carpenter’s tools, and ropes and spars enough, with blocks and sails, we may build a craft out of the wreck, or of the wood we can cut down in the island. It does not take so long to dry as it does in Old England.”

Roger Trew agreed with Tarbox, and so did I, that we ought to make the attempt, and thanked Oliver for his suggestion. We determined, therefore, at once to secure as much rope and as many blocks as we might want, as well as sailcloth or sails and spars.

“I have heard talk of a man out in the Pacific Islands who built a vessel with far less means than we have got,” observed Tarbox. “He was a missionary gentleman, though he knew well how to work at a forge, as well as to use his saw and hammer. To the best of my recollection, he had only got a file and a saw and an old anchor to begin with. He first taught the natives how to assist him, and then set to work to cut down the trees and to saw them into planks. He next put up a forge, and made the bellows, and manufactured nails and pins, and all the work he wanted.”

“Oh yes, I have read of him,” said Oliver. “He was Mr Williams, the missionary. He built the vessel, I think, at Raratonga, when he was left there by himself, without another European to help him. She was called the Messenger of Peace, and he sailed many thousand miles afterwards on board her in his missionary voyages. If Mr Williams—who had no knowledge of ship-building except such as he obtained from observation of the vessels he visited—could do so, we, at all events, ought to be able to build a craft capable of carrying us to Singapore, even though we may not secure much more from the wreck.”

“There is one thing we want, and that is iron,” observed Tarbox; “and rope and blocks, and provisions, too. It would take us some time to put such a craft together.”

“All I know is,” said Oliver, “that Mr Williams had but the iron part of an anchor, a pick-axe, and a few garden tools, with some iron hoops. His vessel was from about sixty to seventy tons, and from the time he cut the keel until she was launched not more than four months had passed. Besides the bellows and forge, he made a lathe, and indeed manufactured everything that was required. His sails were composed of fine mats, woven by the natives; and the rope was manufactured from the hemp which grew on the island. In the same way he found substitutes for oakum, pitch, and paint, and everything he required.”

“He you speak of must have been a very wonderful man,” observed Tarbox. “I consider that a man who could do what he did is fit to be Prime Minister. Why, he would have made the Thames Tunnel, if he had tried.”

“Very likely he would,” said Oliver; “but God wanted him for His work, and that was to go out to those islands to the east of us in the Pacific, and to convert the natives to Christianity.”

By this time we had regained the wreck. Our first search was for the clothing of the Frau and the young ladies. We managed to get up a trunk which contained a portion of them, though the water had got in, and had greatly spoiled the contents. We fished about for some time, and then got up another box, which had suffered in the same way.

“It cannot be helped,” observed Tarbox. “We will not be particular how the old lady and little girls look; and the clothes will soon dry—that’s one good thing. The sun is not idle out in these parts.”

Our next hunt was for the carpenter’s tools. When I say that half the deck was under water, it may be supposed that there were very few things which had escaped soaking. Fortunately the carpenter had stowed many of his things away in a locker on the upper side of the vessel. These we secured, and then searched for his chest, which we knew contained some more of the necessary tools.

“Poor fellow! if he had stuck by us instead of attempting to swim on shore, he would have been here to lend us a hand,” observed Tarbox.

Oliver was very busy hunting about. Of course, we had thrown off our jackets, and retained only our trowsers. We did not mind, therefore, plunging into the water, now and then diving down in the hopes of getting hold of something. At length Oliver cried out that he felt the handle of a chest, which he thought must be the carpenter’s. We soon got a hook and rope, and hauled it up, when with much satisfaction we found he was right. It was somewhat heavy, and we doubted if we should get it into the boat. At last Oliver suggested that we should open it, and carry some of the tools separately, so as to lighten it. This we did; and by the time we had got a few coils of rope on board, and some blocks, our boat was heavily laden.

Chapter Twenty Three.

Our first excursion in the island.

On our arrival at the beach, we found that the indefatigable Frau and her young companions had carried up all the articles to the house. On seeing us return, they had again come down, with Potto Jumbo, to help us. The Frau, lifting a coil of rope, put it round her neck, exclaiming, “Ah! I have one fine necklace—I carry this;” and off she set, with a bag of biscuit at her back. The girls each loaded themselves with blocks and ropes, while we carried up the chests and heavier articles.

Great was Mr Hooker’s delight when he saw his beloved cases arrive.

“What! you have saved these?” he exclaimed, lifting up his hands, and gazing at them with affection. “I am indeed indebted to you. I little thought any one else appreciated them as I do. But it shows you are true lovers of science, that you value such treasures as these—not as ordinary persons value them, but as men of science look at them—at their true worth. Thank you, my friends—thank you;” and he shook us all warmly by the hand.

I really believe that the restoration of his collections contributed greatly to his recovery.

The next day we were employed in the same way—in getting on shore as many of the stores as we could fish up from the wreck. Mr Sedgwick was well pleased at the appearance of the case of wine.

“It is just what my patients want,” he observed; “and though I can manufacture palm-wine and arrack, they will not answer the purpose nearly so well. Indeed, the arrack is poisonous stuff at the best.”

For some days both Mr Hooker and the mate appeared to hang between life and death. Our uncle, I saw, was very anxious about them, and seldom absent from their room. When he went away, the good Frau took his place. When absent, however, he was still engaged in their service, as he was either concocting medicines or cooking dishes to suit their taste.

“Potto Jumbo is a very good sea-cook,” he observed to me, “but not quite capable of producing a dish fit for an invalid; and as to my Dyak, Tanda, his ideas are somewhat limited in that way.”

The weather continued fine, and the vessel hung together; but the boatswain was of opinion that should another gale come on, she would quickly go to pieces.

“Though we might get some of her timbers and planks, they would be sorely battered by getting knocked on the rocks,” he observed; “and to my mind it would be better if we could get them ripped off at once. It will be a pretty tough job; but it is to be done.”

I proposed the matter to Mr Sedgwick, but he rather doubted our capability of performing the operation. He could not help us, as he was required to attend to our friends, while his man had to look after the plantations and animals, and indeed had ample work. He thought that fresh planks from the trees in the forest would be of more use than the broken ones we might get from the vessel. We, indeed, were prevented from returning to her for some days, on account of a strong wind setting in directly on the shore, which created so much surf that we were unable to pass through it in our small boat.

Mr Thudicumb was to be our master-builder. He had more acquaintance with ship-building than any of us—indeed, probably than all the party put together; but he was yet too ill even to superintend the undertaking. We hoped, however, that in the course of a week or two he would be sufficiently recovered to set us to work. At present, indeed, he could scarcely even give his thoughts to the subject.

I proposed that we should employ the time in exploring the island. Mr Sedgwick had never gone to any great distance from the spot where he had located himself. He had been unable to do so, as directly he began to collect his menagerie it was necessary for him to remain to attend to his animals. He was also unwilling to go far from the coast, lest, a vessel passing, he might lose the opportunity of getting on board her. This had kept him week after week, and month after month, within a few miles of the shore. He was now, however, very glad to make the proposed expedition.

Mr Hooker and the mate were sufficiently recovered to move about the house and to take short walks in the neighbourhood. The girls were both very anxious to go also, but the Frau strongly objected to their doing so.

“Suppose we meet snakes, or wild beasts, or savages?” she asked. “Oh no, no, Frauline Emily and Grace. You must stop and take care of Mr Hooker and poor Mr Thudicumb. What they do without you?”

We were much amused at the Frau’s anxiety, because we suspected that she supposed if they went she would have to go also, and for this she had no fancy. She was a very good nurse, and a very good cook; but she took little interest in beautiful scenery or in natural history.

“We will take very good care of the young ladies if you like to remain behind,” said our uncle. “We can easily make some litters to carry them, should they be tired, and we will leave you to assist in garrisoning our castle.”

“Oh, but I not like to lose sight of them,” she answered; and indeed she was afraid that they might meet with some accident, or suffer from the hardships of the journey.

They, however, pleaded their cause so well, that at length it was arranged they were to go with us.

“I have read that Lady Raffles accompanied her husband, Sir Stamford, in many of his excursions through Sumatra and other islands of these seas, and I do not see why we should be afraid of any of the hardships which she had to go through,” observed Emily.

We now busied ourselves in making preparations for our journey. Our party consisted of our uncle as leader, Oliver and I, Dick Tarbox, Roger Trew, and Potto Jumbo. Merlin evidently understood that we were going on an expedition, and wagged his tail and looked up in my face as if to ask if he might accompany us. First he went to one, and then to another, making the same request.

“If you can spare him, Hooker, we will take him,” observed my uncle. “He seems so well trained, that I think he will not range too widely and disturb our game.”

“Speak to him, and he will do whatever you tell him,” said Mr Hooker; and so Merlin was added to our party.

We promised the Frau that should the difficulties we might meet with be too great for the girls to encounter, we would at once return, and leaving them, set off again by ourselves. We each of us earned a fowling-piece, an axe, and a knife, with flint and steel, and a bag of sago-cake, prepared as have before described. We felt very sure that we could provide ourselves with an ample supply of animal food, as also vegetables, wherever we might go. Nature has been lavishly bountiful in that region in her supply of food for the wants of man; indeed, there are no parts of the world where a little labour will produce such an abundance of all the necessaries of life as in most of the islands of that archipelago.

Several streams ran down from the neighbouring mountains fertilising the land, and, in the intervals, cocoa-nut trees grew, with fruit now sufficiently ripe to afford a delicious draught of cool liquid whenever we might want it.

We rose before daybreak to breakfast, that we might commence our journey in the cool of the morning. Our friends collected in the verandah to wish us good-bye. Mr Hooker, however, seemed very unhappy at being unable to accompany us.

“Cheer up, friends,” said our uncle. “We shall be back, probably, in two or three days; and having stretched our legs, we shall be the better able to make another excursion, and I hope by that time you will be of the party.”

My uncle led, axe in hand, to clear away any creepers or underwood which might impede our progress. The girls, with Oliver and I on either hand, followed, while the three men, with their guns ready for use, brought up the rear. The views were, however, confined, in consequence of the thickness of the forest and the somewhat level nature of the country; but in the distance we could see mountains rising, with intervening hills, which showed us that there was some climbing in prospect. Nothing could exceed the beauty of the woods, or the great variety of strange trees and plants which met our sight in every direction. Among the most beautiful and curious were the orchids. One especially arrested our attention. It had large yellow clusters of flowers hanging down from some of the lower branches of the trees, so that it was more than usually conspicuous. Our uncle called it the Vanda Lowii. Many of its strange pendent flower-spikes almost reached the ground. Each was about six or eight feet long, with large, handsome flowers three inches across, varying in colour from orange to red, with deep purple-red spots. Some, indeed, were even longer than that; and we counted on one thirty-six flowers arranged in a spiral way upon a slender, thread-like stalk.

A shout from one of the men a short distance behind made us stop.

“Why, that is a rum-looking creature!” exclaimed Dick Tarbox.

“Dat?—dat one big frog with wing!” cried Potto Jumbo, with a loud laugh.

We turned round, and just at the same moment a companion probably of the first that had been seen seemed to be flying in a slanting direction from the bough of a high tree into a small pool which we had noticed as we passed. Potto sprang forward, and caught it just as it was reaching the water. It was a curious-looking creature, certainly. The back and limbs were of a dark shining green colour, while the under surface and inner toes were yellow. The body was about four inches long, while the webs of each hind foot, when fully stretched out, covered a surface of not less than four square inches. Its toes were peculiarly long, and fully webbed to their extremity, so that, when expanded, they presented a surface to the air considerably larger than the whole of the body, which was also capable of being filled out by wind.

“Ah, this is a real flying-frog!” observed our uncle.

However, it was altogether a very curious creature. We were anxious to preserve it to show to Mr Hooker. It was accordingly consigned to Roger Trew’s bag, our uncle saying that he would preserve it when we stopped to rest.

The tree-ferns also were very graceful, of various heights and forms, from eight to fifteen feet high, their tall leaves waving over in the most picturesque manner.

“We shall soon have a stream to cross,” said my uncle, “which I consider the boundary of my domain. However, as I have made excursions a short distance beyond it, I have built a bridge that I might get across without difficulty. You must, however, string up your nerves, as, probably, you have seldom passed over such a structure. It is exactly such as I have seen built by the Dyaks in Borneo.”

On getting to the banks of the stream it was evident that without a boat or a bridge we should be unable to cross. We now, however, saw the means my uncle had contrived. The bridge was made entirely of bamboo. A number of stout pieces crossed each other like the letter X, fixed in the bank on either side, and rising a few feet above it. They were then firmly bound together, as also to a long bamboo of the largest size which rested on them, and formed the only pathway over which we had to cross. Another long bamboo, raised three feet above the other on either side, formed the hand-rails. It was, however, supported also by ratans, which led from some overhanging trees above it, while other bamboos were stuck into the banks, and leaning outward over the stream, formed diagonal supports.

“Come, Emily and Grace,” said my uncle. “If you find that I get across safely, you need have no fear; and I repaired it completely but a few days ago, little thinking how soon it was to be crossed by any one else.”

When my uncle had got about half-way across the stream, I began to tremble for his safety. The bamboo seemed to me to be creaking and cracking, and every instant I expected it to give way. However, he appeared perfectly at his ease, and walking calmly on, soon reached the other bank in safety.

“Shall I go next, Emily, or will you?” I asked.

“Oh no, no,” said Emily; “Grace and I will go,” and bravely she led the way.

Grace was a little more timid, but followed her closely, and they too reached the opposite bank. When the rest of the party came over, they said they had seen a large bird on the bank of the stream flying near the decayed trunk of a huge tree.

“Whereabouts is it?” exclaimed my uncle with great eagerness.

“Dere, dere!” said Potto Jumbo, whose eyes in these thick woods were evidently sharper than those of his companions, who might, however, have been able to see further than he could on the ocean.

We crept carefully along the bank. It was a huge bird of dark plumage, with a vast bill, and a curious sort of cap on its head. It had something in its mouth, with which it went to a hole in the tree I have described. My uncle, telling us to remain quiet, crept nearer and fired. The bird fell with a loud flop into the stream.

“After him!” I said to Merlin, as the bird was floating down.

Merlin dashed forward, and springing in, approached the bird, who, however, was only wounded, and began to show battle with his formidable bill. Merlin wisely kept out of his reach, for a peck of that bill would soon have taken out one of his eyes. The bird, at length, however, became exhausted, and then Merlin sprang on him, and seizing him by the neck, quickly dragged him to the shore.

“It is a magnificent hornbill!” exclaimed our uncle—“Buceros bicornis.”

Merlin had killed the bird in bringing it on shore, and it now lay stretched out before us. My uncle eagerly went forward to the tree, and looking up about fifteen feet from the ground, we saw a small hole surrounded by mud. Directly afterwards, out came the white end of a beak, which seemed to gape as if expecting to have some food put into it. We were silent for an instant, and then heard the harsh croaking of a bird, which seemed to come from the interior of the tree. How to get at it, however, was the question.

“We will soon be up there,” said Tarbox. “I have seen the way the black fellows get up a tree, and I think we can do the same.”

He soon cut down some bamboos, which, cutting into pieces about a foot and a half in length, he drove into the tree, we all assisting him. He then secured some upright bamboos to the pieces which had thus been stuck in one above another. As soon as he had stuck them in as high as he could reach, he mounted on the first, and then put in some more above his head, and thus in a very short time got up to a level with the hole.

“I have no fancy, though, for having my eyes picked out, which they might very quickly be if the creature inside has got as big a beak as the one you killed, sir,” he observed.

He accordingly got somewhat higher up. He then with his axe began to knock away the mud, and in a short time cleared out a large hole, when not only the beak but the head of a bird similar to the one which had been killed was poked out.

Dick seized it by the neck in spite of its furious struggles, and giving it a swing, threw it down to the ground, where the rest of us pounced upon it, when it commenced uttering the most tremendously loud, hoarse screaming I ever heard.

“There is something else in the nest, though!” he exclaimed; and putting in his hand he drew out an extraordinary little lump of vitality, which, however, was evidently a young bird. “I will bring it down to its mother,” he said; “for if I threw it, the poor little creature would be killed.”

Holding the creature in one hand with as much care as if it had been a young child, he descended with the other. It was a bird as large as a pigeon, but without a single feather on any part of its body. It was wonderfully plump and soft, with a skin almost transparent, so that it looked more like a bag of jelly than any living thing, with a head and feet and commencement of wings stuck on to it. The little creature seemed in no way frightened, but opened its mouth as if expecting to be fed. We brought it to its mother, who immediately recognised it, and when we handed her a piece of fruit she took it and gave a portion to her offspring, who lifted up its beak to receive it.

“Oh, I will carry it!” cried Grace. “I should not like the poor little thing to be hurt.”

Grace had a kind heart, and was always ready to sympathise with any one in distress. We accordingly made a basket of palm-leaves, and Dick again ascended the tree to bring out the lining of the nest. This we put into the basket, and the bird was placed upon it. The mother again began to scream loudly when we took away its young.

“Come, old lady, I’ll carry you,” said Roger Trew, lifting up the hen hornbill; but the bird fought so desperately that he was glad to put her down again. “We must tie your legs and put your nose in a bag, ma’am,” said Roger, “or you will be doing some one a mischief.”

A larger basket was therefore made, into which we put the old bird, fastening in its head at the same time. Mr Sedgwick was highly delighted with his prize. He had always wished to get one of these birds; but had failed to find them, though he had seen them at a distance, and therefore knew that they were in the island. He was aware of this habit of the male bird of plastering up his mate with her egg, and bringing her food while it was being hatched. Several other hornbills act in the same way.

We continued our journey for some time along the banks of the stream, which sparkled brightly as it made its way through the forest. Then we began gradually to ascend the mountains we had seen in the distance. Nothing could exceed the beauty of the forest trees amid which we were making our way—lofty palms, and the wonderful screw-palm, tall cocoa-nut palms, and a number of trees of the same description. Here and there also were groups of bamboos; and in many places ratans grew, hanging from tree to tree. Now and then we met with beautiful flowers and flowering shrubs, but they were not so common as we expected. Their size and brilliancy, however, made amends for their scarcity. Among them were some creepers, having crimson and yellow flowers; others were of a rich purple colour. Among the most beautiful was one which Mr Sedgwick called an anonaceous tree: it was about thirty feet high, and its slender trunk was covered with large star-like crimson flowers, which surrounded it like a garland, and Grace and Emily declared they thought some one had come on purpose to adorn it. In one spot a number of these trees grew all together, producing a most beautiful and brilliant effect; others were immense trees with furrowed stems; and now and then we came to a magnificent fig-tree, which was altogether unlike any tree I had ever seen. It seemed as if its trunk had been divided into hundreds of small stems and roots. The most curious, however, was one which had its base eighty feet up from the ground, while that rested on a wonderful pyramid of roots which, shooting downwards, spread out on every side, while the branches started off and rose again to a vast height above the stem. Then, again, from its branches hung down a variety of creepers, like the shrouds of a vessel, to keep it apparently from being blown away by a tornado.

I cannot attempt to describe all the beautiful butterflies we saw. Now and then Mr Sedgwick made chase after one. Once he returned with one, which he considered a valuable prize. The ground colour of its wings was a rich shining black, the lower wings being of a delicate grey with white, and bordered by a row of large spots of the most brilliant satin-like yellow. The body was marked with shade spots of white, yellow, and fiery orange, while the head and thorax were intense black. The under sides of the lower wings were of soft white, the marginal spots being half black and half yellow.

Scarcely had this one been caught, than he gave chase to another superb-looking one, of a rich purple, variously tinged with ash colour, a broad bar of deep orange running across the fore wings. Away it flew, and we ran after to assist him, when it seemed to drop among some dried leaves, and there it totally disappeared. What had become of it, we could not tell, when suddenly, almost from before our eyes, it rose again in the air, and gave us another chase, till it again disappeared as before. At length we saw Mr Sedgwick fall almost prostrate, with his net over the leaves; and then what appeared to be a dry leaf suddenly rose and turned into a large butterfly. It was, however, under his net, and was quickly made his prisoner. We soon discovered the curious arrangement by which the creature is enabled to escape capture. The end of the upper wings terminated in a fine point, just as is the case with the leaves of many tropical shrubs. The lower wings were more obtuse, and lengthened out into a short thin tail. Between these two points ran a dark curved line, representing the mid rib of a leaf, while the other marks were radiated exactly like the lateral fans of leaves; indeed, the wings of the creature when closed were so like a leaf, that it was scarcely possible to distinguish it from those amidst which it had pitched.

As we rose higher and higher in this mountainous region towards which we were bending our steps, gigantic ferns became more numerous. Among them were most curious pitcher-plants. They took the form of half-climbing shrubs, their pitchers, of various sizes and forms, hanging in numbers from their leaves. Every ridge was now crowned with gigantic ferns, which reminded us of the descriptions of the antediluvian world, when ferns appear to have been the chief vegetation which covered the surface of the globe.—I will not mention our dinner.

It was now time to encamp for the night. Our first care was to make arrangements for the accommodation of the young ladies. We had an abundance of materials at hand, and soon cut down branches and leaves sufficient to make a very comfortable bower in which they might rest. A fire was then lighted, and similar bowers, though of less careful construction, were erected for the rest of the party. Our uncle arranged that one of the party should remain on watch.

“I cannot tell what sort of creatures inhabit these wilds,” he observed; “but I have every reason to believe that many of those that range over Borneo and Sumatra are to be found here. They have probably been prevented coming to my territory by the river which separates it from the rest of the island; but I have seen traces of the rhinoceros, and trees broken down in a way elephants alone could accomplish. Wild boars I have shot; and tigers and huge serpents, I have reason to believe, are to be found in some parts of the island.”

“How delightful!” I exclaimed; but then I recollected the danger to which Emily and Grace might be exposed. I said something to that effect.

“We must keep a careful watch,” he answered; “and in truth I believe that generally wild animals are more afraid of man than man need he of them, if he is on his guard.”

I did not wish to frighten the girls, and therefore did not talk to them of these things. As I lay down to waistcoat, I could not help thinking of the various fierce creatures we might possibly meet with, and in my dreams I was engaged in desperate encounters with all those my uncle had mentioned, and not a few others—such as have no existence except in the imagination.

Chapter Twenty Four.

Excursion continued—Fearful encounter with a monster.

I was the first inhabitant of our hut awake. Daylight was just breaking; and going out silently, not wishing to disturb the rest of the party, I looked round me. Potto Jumbo, who had the morning watch, was sitting by the fire; a few branches of trees stuck in the ground forming a sufficient shelter from the night dews. He was leaning against them, and had evidently fallen asleep, for the fire was almost out. I stood for some minutes contemplating the strange scene. Surrounding us on every side were the curious trees I have before described, festooned with creepers. Here and there the bright flowers of some orchidaceous plant ornamented their summits, or hung down from their boughs. I thought to myself, if any natives are in the island, how easily we might have been surprised; or if tigers lurk in its thickets, how easily one of our party might be picked off.

Presently Potto Jumbo sprang to his feet with a loud shout. He must have been dreaming, and supposed that one of the animals I was thinking of was approaching. His shout was echoed, it seemed, by a thousand shrill voices; and looking up, I saw the whole of the trees surrounding us alive with creatures—some trumpeting, some screeching, and others making prolonged shrill whistlings; and from the high branches, like a flock of birds, down came some forty or fifty monkeys, striking the tops of the brushwood to which they clung, either with hands or tails, and then off they went with the speed of arrows through the jungle. There seemed to be several descriptions. Some were small creatures of a slate colour; others of a light yellow, with long arms and long tails. The noise they made quickly roused Emily and Grace, as well as the rest of the party, who sprang out of their bowers, watching the proceedings of our neighbours. Some made tremendous leaps from one branch of a tree to another, a little lower down. First went one bold leader, taking a jump towards a tree which it seemed scarcely possible he could reach. Then the others followed, with more or less trepidation. Some seemed afraid to take a leap till their companions began to move off, when, for fear of being left alone, they threw themselves frantically into the air, while two or three came crashing through the slender branches down to the ground.

“Oh, do catch one of those pretty creatures for us!” said Emily and Grace.

Oliver and I ran forward to catch them; but they were not too much hurt to defend themselves; and one of them bit me so severely in the hand, that I was glad to let him go; while the rest, picking themselves up, hopped off at a rate which would have made pursuit useless.

“I am very sorry,” I said to Grace, “to lose the monkey; though I do not think he would have proved a very amiable pet. However, I hope to be more fortunate another time.”

My uncle laughed heartily at me, while he put some salve on my finger and bound it up, the pain quickly subsiding under his treatment.

We soon had our coffee-pot boiling, and we took our breakfast before commencing our day’s walk. The girls declared themselves fully able to proceed. While we were sitting on the ground, I perceived a movement in the boughs, and saw that the monkeys were coming back to have a further look at us; and presently the boughs above our heads were filled with curious prying black, grey, and yellow faces. I pointed them out to Grace and Emily.

“If we could but entice some of them to come down, perhaps we might capture one for you,” I observed.

“Oh no, no; pray do not attempt it,” said Grace, “or you will get another bite. I thought they were such good-natured little creatures that they would hurt no one.”

“Nor would they, young lady, if left alone,” said my uncle. “However, I have some tame ones at home, and you shall choose the most docile when we return as your especial property. We must give them another steeple-chase, however,” he whispered; and suddenly starting up, he uttered a loud cry and clapped his hands.

Again the wood was full of living creatures, and away they went as before, swinging from bough to bough, with the aid of their long tails, in the most wonderful manner. We saw several further off on one side, who moved in a different manner from the rest.

“Those are apes,” said our uncle, pointing them out. “I have one in my collection which I will show you. It is the Siamang syndactyla.”

It was moving much slower than the monkeys, keeping lower down in the underwood, but still it moved rapidly by means of its long arms. It appeared to be about three feet high, while its arms were between five and six feet across, and by them it was swinging itself along among the trees at a rapid rate. Although at first I thought I could catch one, I soon found that it could escape me as well as the monkeys had done.

We now packed up to proceed on our journey. I should like to describe more particularly some of the trees of the wonderful forest through which we passed. In the lowlands near the shore were groves of cocoa-nut palms, of which I have already spoken. Near them was the curious pandanus or screw-pine. My uncle said he always called it a trunk with branches growing at both ends. There were two species of it. The one we saw had fragrant flowers. Its leaves are manufactured into mats and baskets. Its fruit is of a spherical form, from four to six inches in diameter, the surface being exactly divided by projections of a pointed, pyramidal shape. I have already described the bamboos. As we proceeded higher up we found ourselves among lofty fig-trees. Here the number of orchidaceous plants greatly increased, hanging down from the boughs of nearly all the trees, clinging to them so closely that they often appeared to belong to the tree. The ferns, too, were in great variety; among them were many curious pitcher-plants. Thirsty from our walk, we were looking about for water, when my uncle went up to one of these remarkable productions of nature. Each pitcher contained about half a pint of water. Some were full of insects, but in others it was perfectly limpid, and thankfully we drank it off. Though it was not so cool as the juice of the cocoa-nut, still it served to quench our thirst. Thus we found how God has so bountifully provided this region with the greatest necessary of life, guarding with a thick shell the produce of the palm on the lower lands, and allowing the cool breeze of the mountains to temper the water collected in the cups of the pitcher-plant.

Instead of ascending the mountain—a task which the young ladies at all events could not accomplish—we proceeded round it, towards a curious-looking rock which rose up on one side. We made our way without much difficulty to the gap, when we found ourselves on the summit of a cliff, and looking down into a wonderful circular basin surrounded entirely by precipitous rocks, while another gap beyond seemed to open into a smaller lake at a lower elevation. It had apparently been the crater of a volcano—so my uncle thought. The sides of the higher lake were nearly three hundred feet high, we calculated, and covered in most places with trees and shrubs. A beach or broad ledge extended round one side as far as the further gap, on which we hoped we should have ample space for walking and viewing the wonders of the lake. Our ambition was now to reach the water, and we looked about on every side to discover some practicable path by which we might gain it. After hunting about, we found a way down the side of the mountain by which we hoped we could accomplish our object.

The jungle through which we had to force our way, however, was wonderfully thorny. The creepers were thorny, even the bamboos were thorny, while shrubs grew in a zig-zag and jagged fashion, forming an inextricable tangle, through which it was difficult to cut our way. Beautiful birds flitted in and out among the shrubs—grass-green doves, large black cockatoos, golden orioles, and king-crows—their varied and brilliant colours flashing brightly as they darted forth here and there in the sunlight from out of the dark shade. The most beautiful, perhaps, were the golden orioles, which my uncle afterwards told me are often classed with the birds of paradise, and are sometimes placed in the same genus as the regent bird of Australia. These, however, might not have been the true golden oriole, because that bird is very rare, and is an inhabitant of the mainland of New Guinea, though also found on the island of Salwatty. We observed their nests cleverly suspended between the horizontal forks of the outer branches of lofty trees, where they are not likely to be reached by the larger serpents which prey on birds. The paradise oriole has the throat, tail, and part of the wings and back of a jet-black hue, but the rest of the body is of a brilliant yellow colour, with the exception of the neck, which is covered by long feathers of a deep orange, reaching some way down the back, somewhat as do the hackles of a game-cock. The birds we now saw, though not exactly like those I have mentioned, were still very beautiful, and I believe rare. I cannot, however, attempt to describe but faintly the lovely birds and insects we met with in our expedition.

Just then even our uncle could pay but little attention to them, for we all had to use our axes with untiring energy before we could make any progress. At length, however, perseverance overcame all difficulties, and we cut a narrow path through the thick belt which surrounded the mountain. We then found ourselves beneath a lofty cliff, which, we concluded, formed one side of the lake, and circling round it, we reached what we at once guessed was the lower lake, where the cliffs were of less height and far more broken. Emily and Grace sat down on the top, while the rest of us began to make a path by which we might descend to the level of the water. It was not a very easy task. Sometimes Dick Tarbox, who led the way, had to be lowered down by a rope to a ledge below us, cutting away the shrubs which impeded his progress, leaving only certain stumps in the rock which would assist those who followed. In some places he had to clear away the grass and earth to allow of a firm footing; in others, he drove in pieces of bamboo, to serve as supports to the hands or feet in our descent. At last he reached the beach, and we all eagerly followed him. The lower lake was very curious and beautiful, but we had an idea, from the glimpse we had had of the inner one, that that was still more so.

“The young ladies would be disappointed at not seeing this!” exclaimed Oliver; “and I am sure that they would be able to come down. May I go up and fetch them?”

“We must go and lend them a hand, though,” said Dick Tarbox, beginning to ascend.

I also went, while the rest of the party proceeded some way along the beach towards the upper lake. We found the ascent far more easy than we expected—indeed, it seemed as if the girls would have no great difficulty in coming down. As we neared the top we heard them cry out, and saw them standing by in an attitude of terror, looking towards the jungle on the outer side of the lake.

“Oh, come, come!” exclaimed Emily. “We saw a savage just now peering among the trees! There he is! there he is! even now looking at us!”

We hurried to their side. “Savage he is, miss,” said Dick Tarbox; “but he is not a human savage, I think. He is one of those big man-apes I have heard tell of, though I never yet set eyes on one. I don’t think, however, he will venture up to where we are.”

I looked in the direction the girls were pointing, and there I saw a large orang-outan some fifty feet below us. He kept dauntlessly gazing up at us, as if doubting whether he should venture to approach. He was a big hairy monster, with a black coat and a light-coloured face, with enormous feet and hands, almost the height of a man. His face, as we saw him, had a particularly savage expression, and he was evidently a formidable enemy to encounter. Our shouts brought back the rest of the party, who climbed up with their guns, for we had left ours at the foot of the cliff.

“A mias! a huge mias!” exclaimed my uncle, as he saw the orang-outan, levelling his fowling-piece, Potto following his example. The mias was standing holding on by a branch of a tree, as if about to ascend. At the report of the fire-arms he hauled himself up to a branch, much as a sailor would do, and deliberately walked along the bough, evidently uninjured by the shots, which, if they had not missed altogether, could have but slightly wounded him. Some of the trees, with large luscious fruit, had evidently tempted him to come up to this hilly region, as the mias seldom leaves the flat ground, where he spends the night. Ascending from the bough, he caught hold of a branch of a tree which crossed it by one of his long arms, and flung himself on to it with great deliberation. He did not appear to jump, or spring, or in any way to hurry himself, but we saw him then go to the end of another branch and catch hold of an opposing bough. He then grasped them together with both hands, and finding the other sufficiently strong to support him, deliberately swung himself on to it; thus on he went among the lofty summits of the trees, till he was lost to sight.

It was some time before Emily and Grace could get rid of their fright sufficiently to begin their descent. They had now plenty of people to assist them, and ropes fastened round their waists to prevent the risk of accidents. They soon reached the level of the water. We then proceeded towards the gap. Here we were again stopped for some time, finding a way by which we might ascend the cliffy sides. However, the shrubs and the broken under-cliffs enabled us at length to climb up, passing close to the waterfall formed between the two. The whole party uttered an exclamation of surprise and delight when we entered within the circle of the inner lake. The sides were covered with the most beautiful and luxuriant vegetation. Jungle trees of every description jutted out from the crevices of the rocks, their trunks and branches bearing an endless variety of beautiful creepers in brilliant blossom, hanging down in festoons to the very water’s edge. Over our heads, disturbed at our appearance, flew a number of pigeons and other birds of beautiful plumage, backwards and forwards. The water was intensely blue, and beautifully clear.

“I should not be surprised but what this is one of the lakes I have heard speak of which has no bottom,” observed Dick Tarbox. “They say that water-spirits and monsters of all sorts live in some of them. I do not know what they would think at our coming among them.”

“I have heard of lakes without bottoms, but I have always found, on fathoming them, that they were not so deep as was supposed,” observed my uncle. “I should like to try this one. It may be very deep, but I suspect that it is much shallower than from the top of these cliffs down to where we stand. What should you say, boatswain, if the rope you hold in your hand, with a stone fastened to it, would reach the bottom and give you some feet to spare?”

“Well, sir, you know better than I do; but I should be surprised if by fastening all the ropes we have together we found soundings.”

At last it was agreed that we should build a raft and try. We had ample materials; for in one corner was a large grove of bamboos, and plenty of other light wood trees growing about. We soon cut down some of the larger bamboos, with ratan to secure the cross pieces, and had an amply buoyant raft to carry one person out into the centre. I begged that I might go on it, but Dick Tarbox said he would make the expedition. He soon had a paddle formed out of bamboo, and sitting down on his somewhat frail bark, away he went, with a coil of rope before him, to which a stone was attached, into the middle of the lake. We all watched him eagerly as he let down the stone, when lo, and behold, long before the rope had run out, the stone had reached the bottom.

“There must be a rock out here!” he exclaimed. “It cannot be so shallow as this.” Again he pulled up his stone, and pulled away between the centre and the shore. “Soundings again!” he cried; “and rather less than in the middle. I cannot make it out.”

He now paddled round and round the lake, dropping the stone every now and then, and at length came round to the spot where he had embarked.

“You are satisfied now,” said Mr Sedgwick. “I have generally found it to be the case that lakes which are reputed fathomless are like this one.”

We all in turns had a paddle on the lake, and as the raft was found large enough to support fully a couple of men, Emily and Grace got on it, and I acted as their boatman. We took the circuit of the lake, while they admired the beautiful scenery I have already described. Our uncle meantime was hunting about for birds and butterflies. The gap, when we were on the opposite side, had a curious appearance, being like a large gateway, fully one hundred feet in height, though broken and ruinous. The creepers also were seen to great advantage, some of them falling in the most beautiful luxuriance from the very summits of the surrounding heights down to the water’s edge, many of them covered the whole length with brilliant flowers.

“What a delightful place for a pic-nic!” exclaimed Emily.

“True, young lady,” answered Mr Sedgwick; “and as all our meals are pic-nics, I propose that we halt here and make our dinner. We have water in abundance, and our provisions at our backs.”

A fire was at once kindled, the kettle which Potto carried at his back unslung, and our various provisions produced. Not many birds had hitherto been shot, and our larder was therefore but ill supplied.

“I forgot all about eating!” exclaimed Mr Sedgwick; “but stay; we will soon have some birds for the pot.”

Saying this, he proceeded along to the lower lake. The sound of his fowling-piece, as he fired several times, reverberated strangely among the rocks, making the birds fly to and fro in alarm at the unusual sound. Never before perhaps had fire-arms been discharged in that romantic region, but instinct told them that it boded them no good. In a short time he returned with several pigeons and a couple of parroquets. It seemed almost a sin to deprive such beautiful birds of their plumage; but Potto Jumbo, influenced by no such notions, quickly had them plucked and prepared for roasting. They were then stuck on skewers, and in woodland fashion placed on forked sticks before the fire. They were pronounced excellent, and quite as tender as if they had been kept for a long time; indeed, in that hot climate the only way to have them tender is to pluck and cook them before they have time to grow cold. We had brought a supply of fruit, which we had plucked on our way, as well as sago-bread and other articles, which altogether gave us a luxurious repast. No spot could have been more lovely than that where we sat. The bank was covered with soft, almost velvety grass, being shaded constantly from the noonday sun, and the air felt cool, though soft. I had just opened a durian, which I was handing to Grace and Emily, who had got over their repugnance to the smell, and now pronounced it the most delicious of fruits. One declared it had the fragrance of pine-apple, another of the richest melon with cream and strawberries, and the consistency of liquid blanc-mange, or more correctly, perhaps, hasty pudding. Our uncle had lighted his pipe, and lay back on the soft grass enjoying the scene. The three men, seated at a little distance, followed his example.

“What a delightful spot this would be to fix our abode on, if compelled for ever to remain on this island,” said Emily.

“Oh, do not talk of remaining!” exclaimed Grace. “Beautiful it is, and very thankful I am to be with you, but I cannot help thinking of my father and mother, and how anxious they will be when the Dugong does not arrive as they expect at Singapore. Oh, it will break my mother’s heart, if she thinks any accident has happened to us. They will not know what has occurred, and they will think perhaps that we have been cut off by pirates, or that the vessel has gone down, in a hurricane, or has been driven ashore among savages.”

Oliver and I tried to cheer her up. “Some vessel will surely appear off here before long,” I observed; “or if not, when Mr Thudicumb gets well we must set to work and build a cutter sufficiently large to carry us all away.”

While I was speaking, I heard a strange noise above our heads, and looking up, I saw in the trees directly over us a dozen or more long-armed monkeys, yellow-skinned fellows, with flesh-coloured faces. Down they had come from branch to branch from the cliff above us. Presently one made a spring, and seized hold of a fruit which Grace had just taken. She screamed with alarm, as well she might. Oliver dashed forward to seize the monkey, but before we could catch it, it had sprung up again towards the nearest bough, and again hand over hand up the branches, till he was far out of our reach. There he and his companions sat, eating away at the fruit; but they soon quarrelled among themselves, and the greater portion of it fell from their paws to the ground. We could not help laughing at the audacity of the creatures. Potto Jumbo especially was heartily amused, and lay back on the grass shaking his sides with laughter. The girls’ faces, too, indicative of astonishment and dismay, amused me excessively.

“Well, those are thieves,” cried Dick Tarbox. “It is the first time, I have a notion, they have ever seen a human face, and I suppose they take us to be big apes or monkeys like themselves.”

The creatures seemed in no way alarmed at our gestures, nor did they appear to fear the gun which Mr Sedgwick levelled at them. He lowered it again, however.

“No,” he said; “they do not know better; and as we do not want to eat them, it would be downright cruelty to kill the creatures.”

I was very glad of this, for I should have been sorry to have had any of them hurt. The case would have been very different had my uncle wanted one as a specimen. He then seemed to have no regard for the life of any animals he required. He apparently considered that the honour he did the creature by preserving it was ample amends for putting it to death.

It was now time for us to recommence our return journey.

“But shall we have to pass through the country of those dreadful apes?” exclaimed Grace. “Surely if a number of them were to come together, they might attack us.”

“No fear of that, young lady,” said Mr Sedgwick. “They will seldom injure any one unless they themselves are attacked, though the big fellow you saw would be a formidable antagonist to any one unsupported.”

I thought so too, and was very thankful that we had come up in time. We were making our way towards the shores of the lower lake, Mr Sedgwick leading; but on this occasion we young people lingered behind. I was walking with Grace; Oliver and Emily were a short distance behind us. Emily had brought her sketch-book, which she had used in taking views from the inner lake. Presently Oliver came running after us to say that she wished to take a view of the gap, and bid us wait a few minutes for her while she hastily sketched it. I went on to the party ahead to beg them also to stop, or, at all events, when they had found the way, to wait till we had come up to them. I had almost got back to where I had left Grace, when I heard a loud scream, and I saw a huge black monster—so he seemed to me—drop from the branch of a tree near to where my sister was standing. Oliver quickly ran forward and threw himself between her and the creature, which I now saw was a huge mias, very like the one we had before seen. Oliver had his gun in his hand, and presenting it at the animal’s head, he drew the trigger, but it failed to go off, and the mias closed upon him. One grip of the fierce creature’s powerful mouth would, it seemed, have been sufficient to deprive him of life. Oliver had lifted up his gun with the other hand. The creature seized the weapon. What was my horror the next moment to see it rising on its hind legs, and bending forward, fix its teeth into Oliver’s arm, which he had raised to defend his head. Meantime Merlin, who had been with the rest of the party, came bounding back, and attacked with his powerful jaws the leg of the mias. The creature for an instant let go Oliver’s arm.

“Fly, Miss Emily! fly!” he cried out. “Never mind me.”

“But I do! I do!” exclaimed Emily; “I cannot have you hurt for my sake.”

“Fly! fly!” again cried Oliver.

While this was going on Grace was shrieking loudly, and I shouting out to our friends to come to Oliver’s assistance, while I ran forward to give him what aid I could. I did not of course stop to consider the danger I also was in, as the beast would have probably seized us both, had I got within his grasp. I also cried out to Emily to fly. I saw that not only her safety depended on her doing so, but that of Oliver, for he would not move till she was at a distance from the orang-outan. Meantime the rest of our party were hurrying up to our support. Oliver sprang back to avoid the creature’s hand-like claws, which he stretched out towards him. Never had I seen anything so ferocious as those powerful paws and the grinning row of teeth exhibited as he ran forward to attack us, regardless for the moment of Merlin, who was now in greater danger than we were. The mias still held the gun in his claws. While he again advanced towards Oliver, I levelled my fowling-piece and fired. The ball with which it was loaded, however, although it certainly passed through the creature’s neck, only increased his fury, without apparently greatly injuring him. Oliver’s danger was fearful. Already the creature was within a couple of yards of him, in spite of the impediment which Merlin offered. I had no time to load again, though I attempted to do so as I retreated, shouting at the top of my voice, and urging Oliver to do the same, in the hope that we might frighten the huge ape. He, however, was in no way alarmed by our shouts and cries. He still advanced, holding the musket. Already, if he was to stretch out one of his long arms, he might again grasp Oliver and draw him towards him. Oh, what would I not have given for a loaded gun at that moment! In vain I attempted to load mine while I stepped backward. Oliver was attempting to escape; but just then his heel caught in the root of a tree, which grew at the base of the cliff, and down he fell, rolling in the sand. His fate appeared to be sealed. I cried out in terror and alarm. The mias, uttering a shout of mocking laughter, seemed prepared to throw himself on his victim. At that instant, as he changed the gun from one hand to the other, apparently intending to get rid of Merlin before he attacked Oliver, it suddenly exploded, bursting into twenty fragments, and wounding him severely in the hands, face, and chest. He uttered a loud scream of anger, but still advanced. Suddenly, when I thought that my friend’s life would be in an instant more taken from him, the creature fell back to the ground, where he lay struggling violently, biting the earth and tearing it up with his claws, while Merlin, evading his clutches, attacked him wherever he could get a gripe, without risk of being seized, and prevented him probably from again rising.

“Oh, he is killed! he is killed!” cried Emily, who had hitherto stood terror-stricken, running to Oliver and kneeling down by him. She heard the report, and probably thought that he had been wounded by the gun.

“No, no, Miss Emily; do not be alarmed, I am not much hurt,” said Oliver, trying to lift himself up. “The creature only tore my flesh, and I have sprained my foot in falling. I have been mercifully preserved.”

For some time, however, Emily could scarcely be convinced of the fact. There lay the monstrous mias, still struggling violently, while Merlin pertinaciously hung on to him. I had now reached Oliver, and assisted Emily in supporting him, while we put a safer distance between the creature and ourselves. Grace, who was far more timid than Emily, had stood transfixed, as it were, to the ground, unable to advance or fly. The rest of the party now came up, and a blow from Dick’s hatchet deprived the mias of life.

“I suppose he good for dinner,” observed Potto Jumbo, surveying him. “I cut steak out of him before we go away.”

“Out on you for a cannibal!” exclaimed Tarbox, with a look of horror. “I would as soon think of eating a nigger boy.”

“No, no, Massa Tarbox,” answered Potto, in an indignant tone. “Nigger boy got soul. Dis,” and he gave the brute a kick with his foot, “just like hog or cow.”

“You may spare yourself the trouble of cutting a steak out of him,” said Roger Trew. “I do not think any of us would make up our minds to eat him, whatever he may be.”

“If it was not so far off, I should have liked the skin, though,” said Mr Sedgwick. “However, we will hang him up in a tree, and some day I may have his skeleton, when the ants have picked it clean.”

Under his direction the men now got some ratan, with which they surrounded the body of the monster, and then, in a sort of framework, they hoisted him up to the stoutest branch of a tree which they could manage to reach. We left him there, for all the world, as Roger Trew observed, like a pirate hanging in chains, and then began our homeward march with greater speed than before, to make amends for the time we had lost.

Chapter Twenty Five.

Termination of our excursion.

We made our way along the shores of the lower lake till we came out by the side of a beautiful cascade, which fell down over the cliff into a river below us, whence the water flowed away, we concluded, towards the sea; but the dense forest prevented us seeing the course it took. The lower lake I have been describing was raised but a little way above the level of the country. The height of the cascade was fifty feet; and, giving another fifty for the fall of the river, we supposed that we were not much more than one hundred feet above the sea. My uncle, having examined his compass, now settled, as far as he was able, the course we were to take. The river would be our guide, we saw, for a considerable distance; indeed, the stream we crossed by the bamboo bridge was evidently a portion of it. Turning back, we saw, rising above us, the lofty mountain, a shoulder of which we had crossed. We were now better able to judge of its height. Numerous other lofty hills rose on either side of it—mostly bare of trees—some almost black, others of a shining white, which might have been mistaken at a distance for snow; while, from the centre of the cone, wreaths of smoke circled upwards to the sky, giving unmistakable signs of its volcanic character. Our uncle looked at it earnestly.

“It seems to me to be sending forth denser smoke than I have hitherto observed,” I heard him remark to Dick Tarbox. “I hope it is not going to play us any trick.”

“Maybe a little more tobacco has been put into the pipe,” observed the boatswain, in return; “and the old gentleman, whoever he is, who is smoking it, is having a harder pull than usual.”

“I hope so; but I had rather he had put off his smoking for a few weeks longer, till we are clear of the place,” said my uncle, turning round.

I remembered the fearful danger Oliver and I had escaped when carried off by the Papuans from our island; and I prayed that we might be again preserved from a similar catastrophe. We had made no great progress when it was time to encamp.

“I must charge you, my friends,” said Mr Sedgwick, “whoever is on the watch at night, to keep a bright look-out. The orang-outans are our least formidable enemies, for it is seldom that they will attack a person, as the one did we have just encountered; but tigers are far more daring; and if we were to allow the fire to get low, we should run a great risk of a visit from one of them.”

We had still an hour or two of daylight. We were all somewhat tired with our long climb: the girls especially required rest. We immediately set to work to form our encampment, making huts, as we had done on the previous nights. Having collected a good supply of dried leaves, we spread mats over them inside the young ladies’ bower, to which they retired to rest while supper was preparing. We had still some birds remaining; but my uncle took his gun, saying that he would try to shoot a few more for our meal, and I begged to be allowed to accompany him.

“You will not have much difficulty in providing our supper,” I observed, “considering the number of birds flying about in all directions.”

The woods were indeed full of sounds of all sorts. I fancied that among them I could distinguish the voices of wild beasts.

“Hark!” I said. “Surely that must be a lion! It is just like the cry I have heard they often give.”

My uncle laughed.

“No, indeed,” he said. “The voices you hear are those of pigeons.”

I could scarcely suppose, however, that he was right, so loud and booming was the sound which came from the woods.

“Oh, what beautiful apples are those?” I observed, as I looked up at a tree in which a number of various birds were collected, among which were several white cockatoos. “I should like to carry some back to the camp.”

The fruit we were looking at was round, with a smooth shining skin of a golden orange colour, which might rival in appearance the golden apples of the Hesperides.

“Let them remain where they hang,” he answered. “Whoever might attempt to eat them would certainly be made very ill, if they did not die. Those beautiful apples possess the most poisonous properties of any fruit in these regions. They are what we naturalists call Apocynaceae. The birds, however, eat those rosy seeds which you see displayed from the ripe fruit, which has burst open.—But stay! There’s a fellow; I must have him.” He raised his gun, and brought down a fine jungle cock, which Merlin, who had accompanied us, instantly ran forward to catch. He brought it to us, highly pleased with his performance. “He, at all events, will afford a supper for a couple of us, hungry as we may be,” said my uncle. “This fellow, or his ancestors rather, is the grandfather of all our domestic poultry in England. They have lost a good deal of their beauty, to be sure, by civilisation, though they may have improved in size and egg-laying powers.”

I was fortunate in shooting a couple of great green fruit-pigeons directly afterwards; indeed, in a short time we had as many birds as would supply us for supper and breakfast. We were passing through a wood which consisted chiefly of the great palm, which my uncle said the Malays call the gubbong. The trees were in various conditions. Some were simply in leaf, others had flowers on them, others fruit, while many were dead, apparently ready to fall. The leaves were large and fan-shaped, and I remarked that those which had flowers were destitute of leaves; indeed, I could scarcely have supposed that they were the same trees. The full-grown trees had lofty cylindrical stems, and were mostly two hundred feet in height, and two or three feet in diameter. The flowers were on the summit, in the form of a huge terminal spike. On the top of this was the fruit, consisting of masses of smooth round balls, of a green colour, and about an inch in diameter. My uncle told me that each tree only flowers once in its life; and that when the fruit ripens the tree dies, though it remains standing a year or two before it falls to the ground. It was on a branch of one of these trees that I saw the pigeons, where they had settled after feeding on the fruit.

We had gone a little way after I had last fired, when, as we were standing under a tree looking for another shot, a shower of the fruit I have described came falling down thickly about our heads. We quickly ran from under it, when, looking up, my uncle shouted loudly, and immediately a loud chattering was heard, and away scampered a whole tribe of monkeys, making an enormous rustling as they leaped among the dead palm-leaves. One would have fancied that some huge beast was rushing through the wood, so loud was the noise.

It was now time to turn back to the camp. My uncle was a little in advance. He had just fired at a couple of birds, one of which he had brought to the ground, when I saw him start back with an expression of alarm which I had never before heard him utter. Merlin, who was near me, stood still for a moment in an unusual way, poking his head out somewhat like a pointer; and there I saw on the ground, not ten paces from my uncle, a huge snake, with head erect, as if about to make a spring. I well knew that it must be of a venomous character from the exclamation that I heard. Merlin instinctively seemed to think the same. I dreaded lest it should make its spring. In an instant it might do so. I trembled lest I should miss it. I might run the risk also, in firing, of hitting my uncle. I would gladly have rushed forward in his defence. In another instant its envenomed fangs might be fixed in his body. I levelled my fowling-piece, and took a steady aim. I fired! As I did so, Merlin rushed forward with a bound. I thought I saw through the smoke the snake in the air. My uncle had sprung on one side, lifting his gun by the muzzle. “I am safe!” he shouted out. “Walter, you did it well!”

The snake had sprung, but, wounded by the shot, had failed to reach its object, and had been struck to the ground by the butt of the gun. I did not suppose from what I had seen of my uncle that he could be so agitated as he now was. He knew, he told me, the venomous nature of the serpent, and that had it struck him, he should probably have been dead in the course of a few minutes.

“You saved my life by your coolness, my boy,” he said. “I believe this serpent is rare in the island, for I have never seen one like it; and it is far more dangerous than the larger python, of which there are many. They can swallow a deer whole, but seldom attack human beings. They would take our friend Merlin down in a gulp; but he probably has sagacity enough to keep out of their way, so you need not be alarmed on his account.”

I begged that I might carry the serpent as a trophy to the camp. To do so I coiled it round a stick, and secured it with a piece of thin ratan. As I walked along, Merlin every now and then came up sniffing behind me, and seemed very much inclined to have a bite at it. We saw several more jungle cocks on our way. They were very like the common game-cock, but the voice was much shorter, and more abrupt. The Malays call it the bekeko. We had reached an open space, when we saw running before us a couple of the most magnificent peacocks. Their tails, spread out as they ran along, were fully seven feet in length. They had been feeding apparently on the ground, till they were frightened at our approach. Having the snake over my shoulder, I could not fire. My uncle raised his gun, but recollected that he had not loaded. He stopped to do so, when the birds, running on rapidly for a short distance, rose obliquely in the air, and, to my surprise, flew over some lofty trees before them and disappeared. I could scarcely have supposed that birds with such large appendages could have risen thus easily. It was a magnificent sight, as they spread out their spangled tails to aid them in their flight.

At length we reached the camp, where Potto Jumbo had already prepared part of the supper, and was eagerly waiting our return to cook the game we might bring. The tea was boiling in our kettle, and we sat down to our repast, while he plucked and cooked the remainder. Emily and Grace came out of their bower, and officiated at our rural tea-table. Tarbox and Roger Trew arrived directly afterwards. They had gone on an excursion down the river, and reported that they had seen a large animal bounding through the underwood. They had not got a clear sight of it; but, from the account they gave, my uncle pronounced it to be a tiger.

“I must again warn you, my friends, to be on the alert,” he observed. “The scent of our cooking may attract him here; but unless he is very hungry, I do not think he will venture among us.”

All the party were eager to examine the snake which I had brought in. Emily and Grace, however, shuddered when they saw it, and still more so when they heard the risk to which Mr Sedgwick had been exposed. He again complimented me on the coolness I had displayed when firing at the animal.

Before leaving the camp, we had persuaded Oliver to lie down. My uncle examined his arm, and bathed it in the cool water which we brought from the river.

“You are in good health, or it might have been a serious affair,” he observed. “However, I hope, after a night’s rest, you will be able to proceed on the journey.”

Oliver said nothing, but I saw by the expression of his countenance that he was suffering a good deal of pain; indeed, it seemed surprising, when I looked at his slight arm, and thought of the big jaws of the mias, that it had not been bitten through. As may be supposed, after the warning we had received, we kept up a blazing fire all night, and instead of one watchman, we had two, always awake—either Roger Trew and I, or the boatswain and Potto Jumbo. All night long our ears were assailed with strange sounds—the croaking of frogs, the shrieks of night-birds, and the terror-inspiring cries of beasts of prey. I went to sleep with them still ringing in my ears, and when I awoke, the same sounds were heard. I had been seated on the ground for some time, carefully making up the fire, when a loud rustling among the dried leaves and shrubs at a little distance reached my ears. I started up, fowling-piece in hand, and telling Roger Trew to be on his guard, advanced carefully towards the spot whence the sound had proceeded. I was standing near the camp, behind Emily and Grace’s hut, when I saw the head of a huge creature with glaring eyes fixed on me. Still I did not like to arouse my friends. I kept my hand, however, on the trigger, ready to fire should it advance, for it seemed as if it was about to make a spring towards me. There I stood gazing at the animal, with the animal gazing at me, and wondering, probably, what sort of a creature I was. I doubted whether it would be wise to fire; for though my gun was loaded with ball, I might possibly miss it, when it was likely to become more furious than if let alone. I cast one glance behind me at our leafy village, towards which I slowly retreated. As soon as I got near enough for Roger Trew to hear me, I asked him to accompany me to the spot where I had been, that we might be sure what the creature was. He was soon by my side.

“Why, a tiger, to be sure!” he exclaimed, levelling his musket.

He fired, and there was a loud rustling among the trees, as if some large creature were bounding through them. I caught a glimpse of it, and fired. In an instant the whole camp was alarmed. The girls looked out of their bower with scared looks, wondering what had happened, while my uncle and Dick Tarbox came out with their guns in their hands.

“I thought it would be so,” said the former; “but you have done well to keep the creature at a distance. However, he is perhaps not far off, and we may before long have another shot at him.”

We had some difficulty in persuading the girls to return to their bower after this, while my uncle and Roger Trew insisted on remaining on watch for the remainder of the night. We added fresh fuel to our fire, and loaded and frequently fired our muskets, and kept, as may be supposed, a very strict watch. Next morning we found some hair of the creature in the spot where he had been observed clinging to the bushes, while drops of blood were seen for some distance in the direction he had taken.

At an early hour we proceeded on our road to the house. The banks of the river were very picturesque, though there was not much water in it. It was, however, my uncle supposed, the only full stream in the island. He had discovered the beds of several others, which remained perfectly dry. We were eagerly looking out in the hope of seeing another mias, my uncle being as anxious as any one. He had some time before, he told us, captured a couple; but one of them had managed to escape, and the other, left alone, had pined for his mate, while he evidently resented the close captivity to which he was subjected. Proceeding down the banks of the river, we came to a part where, though not much increased in width, it was evidently deeper, with two or three calm pools, over which the trees threw their boughs, clearly reflected on the smooth surface. At the lower end of one of the pools I caught sight of what appeared to be a log floating on the water. Presently I saw it moving against the stream. “There must be a powerful eddy there,” I thought. I pointed it out to Mr Sedgwick. After looking at it for an instant, he made a sign to the rest of the party to keep back. We were all collected together behind a bush, through the branches of which we could observe the banks of the river below us. Presently there was a rustling in the underwood in the direction we were looking, and we caught sight of a huge orang-outan making his way down to the water. Some fruit-bearing tree hung over it, in the branches of which he took his seat, and began to eat away at his leisure, letting the husks and rind fall into the water, and now and then a whole fruit. The log, so it still seemed, was coming close under where the baboon was seated, and remained stationary. The orang-outan apparently took no notice of the object in the water.

“If we were nearer, we should see a pair of wicked eyes looking up out of the end of that log,” whispered my uncle, “with some rows of formidable teeth, and a huge mouth below it.”

“What! is that log a crocodile?” I asked.

“No doubt about it,” was the answer. “The creature expects to make its dinner off the mias; but from what I have heard, the mias will be too clever to be caught by it. But we will see.”

After a time, the mias, having eaten as much food as he required, descended the tree towards the edge of the water, holding on to a branch with one of his powerful hands, while he stooped down to spoon out the water with the other. By an almost imperceptible motion the crocodile approached; but the mias, although he appeared to be only intent on quenching his thirst, had evidently a corner of his eye resting on the seemingly harmless log. The crocodile thought it was sure of its prey, and opening its huge jaws, attempted to seize the mias. The latter, however, swung himself quickly up the tree with his arms, and remained looking down on the crocodile within a few feet of its jaws. Then quietly stooping down, he held out a hand within as many inches of his enemy’s nose. This, evidently, excited the crocodile’s desire to get hold of him, and the amphibious monster began to climb up the bank of the river. The mias waited quietly till it was within two feet of him, and then swung himself along a short distance above it from bough to bough, stopping again when the crocodile had got securely up the bank. As the crocodile got near him, he proceeded on a little further; and thus he went on till he had allured the monster to a considerable distance from the stream. What he was going to do we could not conjecture; indeed, so daring had the mias become, that it seemed very likely, after all, he would fall into the crocodile’s jaws. Suddenly, however, we saw him climb up a tree to some distance, and run along a branch which hung directly over where the crocodile was crawling. Then suddenly he flung himself off the branch right on the animal’s back, and with his powerful fists began belabouring away at its head and eyes. It seemed, from the movements of the crocodile, that it was already blinded. In vain it snapped its enormous jaws—the loud sound, as its huge teeth met each other, reverberating through the woods. The mias had not the slightest difficulty in keeping his position on the scaly monster’s back, as its movements were far too slow to throw him off. He continued belabouring it with his fists till it ceased to move. Then, as the upper jaw was lifted up, he seized it in his powerful grasp, and placing his feet upon its neck, with a power which his lever-like position and prodigious strength made irresistible, he literally tore back the monster’s jaw. Having done this, he sprang up a tree, and awaited the result of the injuries he had inflicted. The creature was, however, not completely dead; but though it struggled violently and moved its tail about, its once formidable jaw had lost its means of doing harm. After sitting there a little time we saw him, as if content with his triumph, move off through the forest among the lofty branches of the trees, swinging himself from one to the other with an ease which gave almost grace to his movements.

“The fellow deserves his victory. We will not attempt to shoot him,” said Mr Sedgwick.

Indeed, I suspect by that time he might easily have escaped our bullets, had we attempted to kill him. We now hurried out from our shelter, eager to see the injuries which the mias had inflicted on his antagonist. There it lay, utterly helpless, and we could stand by and examine its huge proportions and strong coat of armour without danger. Its struggles became fainter and fainter, and in a short time it seemed perfectly still and dead. Knowing the strength of the crocodile, it gave us a good idea of the immense power of muscle exercised by the mias; and Oliver said it made him feel doubly grateful that he had escaped from the creature which had so nearly killed him. His hurts still gave him pain. We stopped every now and then that a cooling lotion might be applied to them, and he got over the ground as well as the rest of us.

Our return journey gave us rather more anxiety than we had felt on the previous days. The knowledge that there were wild beasts on the island kept us constantly on the alert; but, for my part, I dreaded those huge serpents more than anything else. They none of them gave signs of their approach, as the rattlesnake of America does, while several were of a most venomous description.

We had been going along, keeping a bright look-out on either side, when, being ahead as usual, my uncle looking out for game, I saw a number of birds flying round and round a tree in a curious fashion. I was on the point of levelling my gun and firing, when I thought I would refrain, that I might ascertain what they were about. My uncle just then came up, having observed the same unusual movement of the birds. Most of them were wood-pigeons.

“Look up there,” said my uncle in a whisper. “Do you see that seeming branch, and the huge lifeless creeper clinging to the trunk?”

I earnestly watched the object he pointed at, when I perceived that what I took to be the stump of a branch was in reality the head of a huge serpent, whose body was coiled round the tree. The birds came nearer and nearer. One beautiful pigeon was standing on a bough directly above the serpent’s head, while others of gay plumage flitted round and round, evidently brought there by some fascinating power it was exerting. The upper part of its body was not coiled round the tree, but simply pressed against it, so that in an instant it could reach to a considerable distance. We watched without uttering a sound, and suddenly its tongue projected from its mouth, and, quick as lightning, it darted forward its head and seized the beautiful pigeon on the nearest branch. So rapid was the movement, that I thought the bird had fallen to the ground; but, as we looked, we saw by the swelling in the creature’s throat that it had secured its prey. Again it drew back into its former position, where it remained perfectly motionless; while the other birds came nearer and nearer, and one at length took the place of its unfortunate fellow which had been captured. After a little time the first bird was swallowed, and another caught in the same manner. I was anxious to shoot the serpent. I fired, but missed, I suppose, for the creature did not move. My uncle then took aim at its head. He killed it apparently; but instead of falling down, it remained coiled up, the head as it fell catching in the fork of a branch, which held it securely. There it hung, and we were unable to reach it to ascertain more particularly the species to which it belonged. The birds, frightened by the report, flew away.

Chapter Twenty Six.

An expedition along the coast—Pirates appear.

The nature of the ground had led us somewhat out of the course for the house. We now struck across the country, hoping to reach it, the ground being less covered with trees and underwood. We had gone for some distance, when we saw before us a high mound. It could not be called a mountain, but it was of considerable elevation, and of a conical shape, with a flat top. My uncle believed that it had been formed by volcanic action, though now being covered with brushwood and herbage and a few tall trees, it was evident that it had been thrown up some time. We climbed to the top of it, expecting to find a view of the sea beyond; but the trees which clothed the base were too lofty to allow us to see to any great distance. Here and there, however, there was a small gap, through which we caught a glimpse of the ocean.

“This would make a fine place for a fort, if any of those pirate fellows come this way,” observed Dick Tarbox as I was standing near him. “I would undertake to fortify it against all comers, if we had a little time to make ready. I have seen some work of that sort in my younger days, when I served aboard a man-of-war; and it would require daring fellows to get inside such a place as we could make it, if we defended it with the spirit which I know we should. Why, bless you, Walter, the young ladies and the old Frau would load our muskets for us, and we might blaze away till we had picked off every Malay who might attempt to get up the hill.”

“But why do you think pirates are likely to come here?” I asked.

“As to that, they are cruising about in these seas, and are as likely to come here as to any other place, if they think they can get anything by coming. Your uncle did wisely to build his house in the forest out of sight, or he would have been carried off long ago; and as they have not been here for some time, it is the more likely that they will come soon.”

There was a hollow in the centre of the cone which had probably formed the mouth of the old volcano, if volcano it had been, thus making a rim or bank all the way round; and on the top of this Tarbox proposed erecting palisades, and a stage, from which we might fire. By making hollows in the earth where we might store our goods and provisions, and where the ladies might remain free from the risk of shot, our fort would be perfect. My uncle overheard our conversation. “I hope there is little risk of such an event,” he observed carelessly. The wood below us was so thick, that it seemed scarcely possible we could penetrate it. However, we were compelled to get there some way or other, or we should have had to go back the way we had come. While hunting about, we found what appeared to be the bed of a stream, though perfectly dry. My uncle, on examining it, said he was sure it led in the direction we wished to go. After proceeding a little way, we found that it was entirely free of trees or shrubs. The bottom was covered with stones, rounded by the once boiling torrent which poured down from the high ground during the rainy season. They were, however, not spheres, but disk-shaped fragments of slate, very thin, the sharp corners rounded off by the water. Here and there, too, we found boulders of opaque, milk-white quartz. Generally the bed was level, but occasionally there were holes where the torrent had been wont to rest in its course towards the ocean. We proceeded along it at a far more rapid rate than we had hitherto been able to move. The shadows which came across our path had been growing longer and longer, when my uncle recognised some trees which grew in the neighbourhood of the house. We had once more to use our axes, and by exerting them actively, we cut our way through to the path which he had formed. It was almost dusk when we saw the high pointed roof of the house before us. Our shouts brought out the inmates, the Frau leading the way, though not accustomed to running. She clasped Emily and Grace in her arms, bursting into tears when she saw them.

“Oh! so glad you come back!” she exclaimed. “We so frightened that you have been carried away by de pirates!”

What she could mean we could scarcely understand, nor was Tanda at first very explicit. Mr Hooker, however, after our greetings were over, told us that as Tanda had been on the sea-shore, collecting shell-fish as a variety to their repast, he had seen, at no great distance from the land, several prows, which, from their build and general appearance, he was sure were those of Sooloo rovers, or perhaps pirates from the coast of Borneo. He had just arrived with the alarming intelligence, and he was afraid they were coming to land on the island. The fading light would scarcely enable us to discover them, for though a few minutes before it had been broad daylight, darkness comes on so rapidly in that latitude, that day, as it were, leaps into night in the course of a few minutes. We hurried down, however, to the beach; but when we got there, we could only distinguish in the far distance some shadowy forms, which might have been the piratical vessels. Which way they were steering, however, the most practised eyes among us could not discover, and directly afterwards they were totally hid from sight. We returned to the house to consult what was to be done.

“If you would take my advice, gentlemen,” said Mr Thudicumb, “you will have provisions done up, and arms and ammunition ready for a quick march, and anything else that you consider most valuable to carry away. We will then station a look-out down on the beach, or at the end of Flagstaff Rock, to give us early notice of the approach of the enemy. If they come, they are pretty sure to find this house out; and, if they get hold of us, to knock us on the head or cut our throats. As, however, you have explored the interior of the country, we shall know in what direction to go, and we shall be able to have the start of them, and may therefore get away into a safe place, where they cannot find us. Probably they will be content with such booty as they can find here—though there is not much to their taste—and will, after a time, take themselves off.”

Mr Thudicumb’s advice was considered good, and my uncle and Mr Hooker agreed to adopt it.

“If they do come, though, what a grievous pity it would be to have all our collection destroyed,” said Mr Hooker. “Is there no place where we can stow them in safety?”

“We may hide them away, certainly,” answered my uncle; “but the pirates are pretty sure to ferret them out, thinking that some treasure is within; and though they may not carry them away, they will break open the cases, and then the contents will very soon be destroyed.”

“Still we must give them a chance of safety,” said Mr Hooker; “and after we have made the arrangements for our flight, we must see what can be done with them.”

The poor Frau was in a state of great agitation and alarm, but Emily and Grace were very far from frightened.

“We will help you to fight the pirates, if they come,” said Emily; “and with so many brave men, I am sure we shall beat them off.”

“And you must teach me to load a musket,” said Grace. “I think I know how to do it, but I am not quite certain. I hope, however, they will run away before we have to fire at them. I don’t like the thought of your having to kill people. It is very dreadful!”

Before we sat down to supper all arrangements were made. The girls were excessively busy. Each had made up a large package of various articles which they thought it would be necessary to carry—provisions and other things. It was arranged that two men should go down to the beach at a time to watch. Tanda and Dick Tarbox agreed to go first, and Potto Jumbo and Roger Trew were to take the second part of the night.

“I think, however, you need not trouble yourselves, my friends,” said Mr Sedgwick, “for they will scarcely attempt to approach this coast in the dark. There are but few places that I have visited in the neighbourhood where boats could come ashore without risk, and they would scarcely find them out, unless with daylight.”

This remark somewhat comforted the Frau, and we had supper before Tanda and Tarbox started. Mr Hooker and the mate had much recovered. The former was in much better spirits than he had been since he landed. Altogether we had a very pleasant meal, and no one would have supposed, seeing us seated round the table, that a piratical fleet was in the neighbourhood, likely to attack us.

After Tarbox and Tanda had set off, however, the spirits of the party began to flag. No one cared to go to bed, as we did not know at what moment we might be roused up. As the night drew on we became more and more anxious. It was indeed a trying time, for even should they not land at night, it was too probable that they would be down upon us before daybreak. Still we could not help anxiously waiting for that time. The hours appeared very long. Now and then I fell off to sleep, and was awoke either by the noises of the animals in my uncle’s menagerie, or by some strange sounds from the neighbouring forests—the voices of night-birds or beasts of prey. At last the two men who had taken the first watch came back, reporting that they had seen nothing; then Potto Jumbo, who had been lying down snoring loudly, started up, and with Roger Trew went down to the shore. The second part of the night appeared even longer than the first. Still I knew that it would have an end. At length the streaks of early dawn appeared in the eastern sky. The usual sounds of returning day came up from the forest. The birds began to sing their cheerful notes, and ere long the sunbeams lighted up the topmost branches of the lofty trees above our abode. Just then the black and Roger Trew returned. “Hurrah, hurrah!” sung out the black, “dey all sail away, and no come here!” Roger corroborated his companion’s statement; and Oliver and I, running down to the shore, caught a glimpse of the pirates’ sails, if pirates they were, just sinking below the horizon. It was some time, however, before Frau Ursula’s mind could be tranquillised. She insisted that if they were in the neighbourhood they would very likely return.

“Why do you think they will come here, good Frau?” said Mr Hooker. “They are not likely to be aware that anybody is on this island, and their object is to attack well-laden traders or towns, where booty can be obtained. Even if they knew of our existence, we have little here to tempt them.”

It was, however, but too probable that had they caught sight of the wreck, a large portion of which was still above water, they would have come in, and we might have suffered severely, had they not either carried us off as captives or put us to death. We had therefore great reason to be thankful that they had passed by without visiting the island.

Mr Thudicumb, though still not well enough to begin building the vessel, assisted us in repairing the boat. I was anxious to go out and fish; for having gained a good deal of experience with poor Macco, I was in hopes of being able to supply the table with the result of my industry. We had fortunately brought some fishing-lines and hooks. I proposed manufacturing some lobster-baskets such as I had seen used, in the hope of catching lobsters or crabs. We had plenty of materials in the smaller creepers, some of which were of a tough fibre; and Roger Trew, like many more sailors, understood basket-work. We were therefore not long in manufacturing a dozen pots, which we baited with pieces of pork. I should have said that my uncle had domesticated several pigs which he had caught young, and which ran about in the neighbourhood of the house, without any wish apparently to stray further. Roger Trew, Oliver, and I made the first expedition, while the rest of the party were making preparations for the vessel. It was not settled, however, where she was to be built. We agreed, however, that in the neighbourhood of the house it would be very inconvenient to launch her. Our first expedition was very successful, and we brought home a good supply of fish. The next day we carried out our lobster-pots, to try our fortune with them. Before returning home after fishing we pulled along the coast, when we saw at a distance a lofty cliff, with a number of large birds flying about it. Some went off to a great distance, and did not, as far as we could see, return. The report we gave of these, on our return, made Mr Sedgwick desirous of accompanying us on our next expedition.

“They must be, I suspect, from your account of them, Walter, cormorants, or rather that species of them known as the frigate-bird.”

No one is so eager as a naturalist when in search of a specimen, and we soon saw that Mr Sedgwick would be far more pleased if we took him round to the cliff, than should we catch a boat-load of fish.

“Suppose then, sir, that we start the first thing for the cliff, and we can then return and land you if you do not wish to remain for the fishing,” I observed.

“A very good idea, Walter,” he answered. “You and Roger Trew can go, then, to manage the boat, and I will take my rifle. It is difficult to approach those birds near enough to shoot one, and I have long wished to obtain some specimens in full feather.”

It was arranged, therefore, that the next morning we should start directly after breakfast. As, however, there was time during that evening, we carried out our lobster-pots, and placed them in a long row on a rocky bed, where we had every hope that lobsters would be found, and we agreed to take them up on our return. We hurried over breakfast, as Mr Sedgwick was eager to be off, and we then pulled away along the shore, looking into the various indentations and bays as we passed, in the hope of finding a spot where our proposed vessel might be launched, and which might at the same time serve as a harbour. It was very important to find a small harbour of some sort, where we might fit her out after she was afloat. We had not gone far when we came to a point with a reef running almost at right angles with it, which served as a breakwater. Inside was a sandy beach.

“Why, that is just the place we are looking for, Walter,” observed Mr Sedgwick. “See! we shall find, I think, an entrance at the other end of this reef; and if so, nothing can be more perfect.”

We eagerly pulled round the reef, sounding as we went with our oars, and had the satisfaction of finding that there was ample water for such a vessel as we proposed to build. We could see the forest coming close down to the water’s edge, and affording an ample supply of timber. We should therefore have but a little way to carry it. We agreed to take Mr Thudicumb there the following day, and if he agreed with us, to lose no further time in laying the keel for our vessel. A little further on we came in sight of the cliff on which we had seen the birds. No sooner did we point them out to Mr Sedgwick than he exclaimed—

“Yes; those, from their flight, must be frigate-birds. No ordinary cormorant would fly as they do. They have come there to breed; for it is seldom, except on that occasion, that those wonderful birds ever visit the land. What extraordinary power of wing they possess! It is said that they are never seen to swim or to repose upon the waters. I certainly have never seen them except on the wing.”

There was a stiffish breeze, which had created a little sea; and it seemed doubtful, although Mr Sedgwick was a good shot, whether he would be steady enough to hit one of the birds he so much desired. We pulled on, however, keeping as close as we could venture under the cliff, so as to be concealed from their sight till we got near them. Roger Trew took the two oars, while I sat at the helm to steer the boat more steadily. My uncle stood up, rifle in hand, eagerly waiting till we got within range of the birds. However, they were so eagerly engaged in preparing the homes for their future young that they scarcely appeared to notice our approach, but kept flying about round the cliff as they had done the day before when we first saw them. At length one of the magnificent birds came within range of my uncle’s rifle. Though his nerves were as well strung as those of most men, I fancied his hands trembled in his eagerness to obtain his prize. He recovered himself, however, in a moment, and, balancing his feet at the bottom of the tossing boat, fired. An instant afterwards a vast mass began to descend, at first slowly, then it passed rapidly through the air like a huge piece of snow cast before an avalanche, and down it came with a loud thud into the water.

“Pull! pull!” he cried; and Roger Trew exerting his arms, we were soon up to the bird. It was still alive, though unable to impel itself through the water or to rise. It stretched out its beak towards us, but all power had gone; and as my uncle eagerly seized it, and drew it into the boat, it ceased to struggle. The shot had alarmed the other birds, some of whom were seen to soar high up into the air. Up, up they went, till they became mere specks in the blue sky, then disappeared altogether. Others, however, retained their position round the rock, flying about in a startled manner, apparently unable to ascertain the cause of the loud sound they had heard. Meantime Mr Sedgwick again loaded, and a second bird was brought down. He offered a great deal more resistance, but a blow from Roger Trew’s oar quickly settled him. My uncle was highly delighted with his success. The second shot had put all the birds to flight, and it did not appear likely that a third would be killed. We therefore put the boat’s head round, and pulled along the shore homewards.

On our way back Mr Sedgwick expatiated on the powers and beauty of the frigate-bird. “See,” he observed, “these feathers are not of that coarse and downy texture peculiar to aquatic birds; indeed, its graceful form and all the internal arrangements seem especially adapted—I was almost going to say for eternal flight. See these wings, twelve feet from tip to tip. Observe this forked tail, these short legs, the thighs not more than an inch in length. Unless perched on some rocky pinnacle, it is unable to take flight. Neither, you will observe, is it adapted for living on the waves. See its feet; they are unlike those of water-fowl, being but partially webbed. Now, when I come to show you the interior of the creature, you will see with what surprising arrangements it is furnished for flight without fatigue in the loftiest regions of the air, where it can even sleep without the danger of descending. See beneath its throat this large pouch; it communicates with the lungs, and also with the hollow and wonderfully light bone-work of its skeleton. When it wishes, therefore, to rest in air, it first spreads out its mighty wings, which are almost sufficient to float its light body. It then fills its enormous pouch with air, from whence it is forced into all its bones, and even into the cavities between the flesh and the skin. Now this air enters cold, but in a short time, from the heat of the bird’s circulation, which is greater than that of other animals, it becomes rarified, and will consequently swell out both the pouch and every cavity I have spoken of, thus giving the bird a wonderful buoyancy, even in the highest regions of the atmosphere. We saw how high those birds went just now, but they probably have gone far higher. In the same way, when the weather is stormy near the earth, the frigate-bird rises into the higher and calmer regions, where, with outspread wing, it remains suspended, motionless, and at rest. There it might remain for days together, unless compelled by hunger to descend. When this is the case, it expels the rarified air from its body and pouch, and drops swiftly towards the ocean. It never, however, dives, or even swims, but as it comes within a few feet of the waves, it instantly brings itself to a stop, and skimming along, catches the flying-fish with its hawk-like bill or talons, holding its neck and feet in a horizontal direction, striking the upper column of air with its wings, and then raising and closing them against each other above its back.”

On seeing this wonderful bird I could easily believe the accounts my uncle gave me. I remembered, when on board the Bussorah Merchant, seeing some tropic birds, which, like the frigate-bird, can ascend to a vast height. One appeared out of the blue sky, when, descending suddenly towards the ship like a falling star, it checked its course, and hovering for a while over our masts, darted away with its two long projecting tail-feathers streaming in the air towards a shoal of flying-fish, which had just then risen from the water. It caught one, and again ascended in the most graceful way towards the blue heavens, to enjoy its repast.

The Chinese, my uncle told me, train the common cormorant to fish for them, the birds being taught to return with their prey to the boat in which their master sits, when they receive a small fish as their reward. As, however, the bird might help itself, and refuse to work for an employer, the cunning Chinese fastens a band round its throat sufficiently tight to prevent it from swallowing the fish, but not to impede its free action in other respects. The hungry bird, therefore, very gladly returns to the boat to have this inconvenient appendage removed, in order that it may enjoy its limited repast, considering that “half a loaf is better than no bread.” My uncle showed me on our return a sketch, which will explain the mode of proceeding even better than my verbal description.

We were still talking of these wonderful birds, when we came near where we had placed our lobster-pots. They must have been on the edge of the bank, for we found that two or three had been carried away into deep water. However, we caught sight of their floats at some distance. Having drawn up the first we put down, several of which had large lobsters, or fish and crabs, with various other creatures in them, we pulled away to recover the rest. Two were empty.

“I suppose it is scarcely worth while hauling up the other one,” I observed.

“We shall lose it if we do not, though there is no great chance of it having anything within it,” answered Roger Trew.

However, as we began to haul it up, we discovered by the feel that it had something in it. As we got it up to the side, Roger Trew remarked that it was after all only a squid, probably, or some nasty creature of that sort.

“Haul it in! haul it in, and let me look at it!” exclaimed Mr Sedgwick.

“Wonderfully beautiful!” he exclaimed. “What a prize!” And as if he were handling the most delicate piece of mechanism, he carefully lifted the basket into the boat.

“What is it?” I asked. “What can it be?”

“What is it!” exclaimed my uncle. “It is worth coming all the way from England to obtain, and living out here many years. Why, this is a perfect nautilus!” With the greatest care he drew out the fragile shell with the creature inside. “See,” he said, “it belongs to the genus Cephalapoda. It is one of the Polythalamous, or many-chambered shells.”

“Well, I should call it a big snail of rather a curious shape,” observed Roger Trew.

However, as far as the shape was concerned, it more approached a horn with the end curled up and placed in the mouth. My uncle said he was rather doubtful that, when alive, the nautilus did float on the water. However, he confessed that many naturalists assert that it does so, as do certainly the people of the coast near which it is found. He told me that possibly this idea had arisen because the shell, when empty, swims on the surface. The creature, when at the bottom, crawls along like any other snail. Sometimes it dies and falls out, when the shell rises to the surface by means of the gases generated in its chambers; and thus they are seen floating on the waves. Others say, however, that the animal itself with the shell, putting out its head and all its tentacles, spreads them upon the water with the poop of the shell above it. The light part of the shell rising above the waves is taken for the sail with which it is said to move over the surface. Numbers are seen together after a storm, by which it is supposed that they congregate also at the bottom in troops. They certainly do not sail for any length of time; but having taken in all their tentacles, they turn over their boat, and thus once more descend to the bottom.

Chapter Twenty Seven.

Our hill-fort.

It was amusing to see the two naturalists eagerly examining the nautilus when we brought it in.

“Walter, you have rendered science an important service!” exclaimed Mr Hooker. “So difficult is this creature to be obtained, that I know of one only that has ever been brought to England, now preserved in the Royal College of Surgeons.”

Immediately a jar of arrack, which my uncle had brewed for the sake of preserving his specimens—certainly not for drinking—was produced, and the nautilus was carefully embalmed within it.

“If you can obtain another, which we can dissect, you will have rendered Mr Hooker and me the greatest possible service,” he exclaimed enthusiastically. “Us, did I say!—the whole scientific world at large. You will deserve to become a member of all the societies of Europe—the most honourable distinction which a man of any age might desire to obtain.”

Of course we undertook to manufacture a further number of fish-pots, and to place them out in deep water, where we might have a chance of catching another of these creatures. We measured the hole they would require for entering, and discovered that out of the number we had made, the one which had caught the nautilus was the only one with a hole sufficiently large to allow it to enter.

“But surely, uncle, the nautilus has sails by which it glides over the water,” said Emily, as she was examining the creature.

“In the imagination of the poets only, my niece,” he answered. “The shells often float from their excessive lightness, in consequence of the air contained in certain chambers within them. It is then often swept away by wind or tide to some neighbouring shore. Thus large numbers of the shells are found thrown up on the beach. The animal, however, when alive, floats occasionally with its shell on the surface; but I doubt much whether it has any power of locomotion beyond that which the wind or current gives it.”

“How disappointing!” exclaimed Emily and Grace together. “We always thought that it had tiny sails, which it spread to the breeze; and pictured it to ourselves skimming on the calm surface, and delighting in its freedom and rapidity of movement.”

“There is, no doubt, an abundance of wonders in Nature, young ladies,” said Mr Hooker, “but a more intimate acquaintance with the habits of animals will often dispel some of the common ideas which have been connected with them, albeit in many instances held for centuries. For instance, till within a very late period people believed that the upas-tree, which grows in Java, possessed such noxious qualities that it destroyed all vegetable life in the neighbourhood. The sap is, undoubtedly, a poison; but I believe people may sleep under its boughs without receiving the slightest injury, though perhaps, were any of the sap to fall from the tree and to enter a wound, it would prove fatal. Once upon a time people believed that the barnacles which are found attached to ships’ bottoms, or pieces of timber long floating on the ocean, turned into geese, and the barnacle-goose was so called because it was supposed to have its origin in that common mollusc, the barnacle.”

Mr Thudicumb had more than once to suggest to the two enthusiastic naturalists that we should lose no further time in commencing the building of our vessel, for although we had no great reason to complain of our position, yet the mate was anxious to let his friends know that he was safe, as also Captain and Mrs Davenport that their daughter and the rest of us were still alive. The sea was now so calm that we had plenty of occupation in going backwards and forwards to the wreck. Mr Thudicumb, who was at length able to accompany us, suggested that a raft should be made, by which means we might bring a larger quantity of stores on shore at a time. All hands were thus actively employed. Tanda had to attend to affairs on shore, the Frau and the two girls assisting him in household matters. The two naturalists were engaged all day long in collecting and arranging their specimens, while the three other men, under the command of the mate, with Oliver and I, were preparing for the building of the vessel.

It must be understood that all the timber and the heavy things were towed round to the bay I have before described, which we now called Hope Harbour—the Hope being the name we proposed giving our vessel. Oliver and I, with Roger Trew, generally managed the boat, while the others remained on board tearing up the planks, and collecting such articles as they could fish up from the bottom.

We had just returned on board one forenoon, when, on scrambling up on the deck, we found our friends in a state of great agitation. “See dere!” exclaimed Potto Jumbo, who was the first person we met. “What do you say to dat?” There, standing in towards the island, though still at a considerable distance, were several mat-sailed vessels, which had certainly a great resemblance to the piratical craft we had before seen. Mr Thudicumb had been examining them with his glass, and had great fears that they were pirates.

“We must get on shore as fast as we can,” he said, “and prepare our friends. If they come here, we must try and seek for safety in the interior. I know these fellows too well. It would be madness to trust to their mercy; and I am afraid, if they once get sight of the wreck, they are sure to overhaul her. It is fortunate we have got most of the things on shore;—but we must lose no time.”

As the boat could not carry the whole party, Mr Thudicumb and Tarbox remained on board, sending Potto Jumbo with Oliver and I on shore, while Roger Trew was to return with the boat for them. We pulled away as fast as we could lay our backs to the oars, and as soon as we landed we hurried up to the house. We were anxious not to alarm the young ladies and the good Frau, and therefore as we came in sight of it we walked rather more steadily. Fortunately our uncle and Mr Hooker were within doors, engaged in their usual work. I hastened up to them and told them what we had seen.

“I must go down and judge with my own eyes,” said my uncle. “Their fears probably have made our friends imagine that these vessels in sight have a piratical look. After all, possibly, they are only a fleet of harmless traders, bound for the south part of Borneo, or perhaps up to Sumatra, or the Malay Peninsula.”

“However, in case of accidents, brother Sedgwick, we may as well get our valuables into a place of safety,” observed Mr Hooker, quietly.

I accompanied my uncle back to the beach, as we agreed we would not tell the Frau or her charges what we had seen. My uncle had a spy-glass with him. After examining the vessels, which were still at a considerable distance, he shut it up with a slam.

“There is no doubt about it,” he exclaimed. “Those, if I mistake not, are Sooloo pirates, and bloodthirsty villains they are. I wish our friends were on shore; but we must hurry back to the house, and get our valuables packed up as fast as we can. I do not think they will follow us far inland; but if they do, we must be prepared for them.”

“Had we not better at once hasten to the hill we fixed upon, and begin to fortify it,” I asked. “They are not likely to make their way there in a hurry, and we shall probably have time to put it into a fair state of defence.”

“The best thing we can do, Walter,” he answered. “I only hope the good Frau will not go into fits with alarm; and as we will take the way by which we came the other day—along our torrent road—we shall at all events have a good start of our invaders.”

By this time we had reached the house. I found that Oliver had gradually broken the news to my sister and Grace, as well as to the Frau, and they were now all prepared for whatever might be arranged. They were already indeed busily employed in making up bundles of such things as were likely to be most required. Mr Hooker was now all life and spirits.

“The first thing we require, remember, is a good supply of provisions and ammunition. Those are the chief necessaries. Water we cannot carry, but I hope we may find it on the hill. At all events, let us take care to have some pitchers to contain it. Then some cooking apparatus, seeing we cannot eat our provisions raw. Then we shall require some bedding for you young ladies. We can rough it well enough on the ground.”

We had made some progress in our preparations, when Mr Thudicumb and Dick Tarbox arrived. With their assistance we got on still more rapidly. Roger Trew had remained on the beach to watch the movements of the supposed pirates. The boxes of collections were at once carried to a place of concealment which had been arranged, and a few other articles which were likely to excite the cupidity of the pirates. All things were now ready for commencing our march, but we were unwilling to begin it till we ascertained that we were really likely to be attacked. We were still in hopes that the pirates might pass by, or land on some other part of the coast where they were not likely to find any traces which might lead them to the house.

“Quick, quick! haste away!” cried a voice, and Roger Trew was seen running up as fast as his legs could carry him to the house. “The pirates have seen the wreck, and are pulling in fast towards it,” he exclaimed.

We were all now in rapid movement. Mr Sedgwick led the way, as knowing the country best; followed by the Frau and the two girls, with Oliver and I to assist them. Mr Hooker came next, carrying his gun, and as much ammunition and provisions as he could strap on to his back. The two coloured men and Roger Trew came next, well armed; Mr Thudicumb and Dick Tarbox bringing up the rear, with Merlin, who seemed to consider that the post of danger and honour. Several of the tamer animals had been let loose, and now followed us, a buffalo and babirusa following behind, two deer keeping close to Emily and Grace, whose especial favourites they were. Several monkeys flung themselves along the branches over our heads, to the great astonishment of their kindred whom they met on the road. Several tame jungle cocks and hens ran in and out among our feet. Indeed, so attached had all the more tameable animals become to our uncle, that they would follow at his call, wherever he went. We had representatives, therefore, of a large number of the creatures inhabiting those regions. As soon as we reached the highroad I have described along the rocky but dry stream, we halted, to conceal as much as possible the place where we entered it from view, by placing boughs at the entrance and strewing the ground thickly with leaves, retreating backwards as we did so. This done, we again moved forward at a rapid rate. The men could not march more easily, in reality, than the weaker members of our party, as they were all heavily laden. We had gone some way, when Mr Sedgwick thought of despatching Tanda as a scout to bring us information of what the Malays were about. We should thus run less risk of being taken by surprise. Our road was far from even, or such as would have suited delicately-nurtured people, but fortunately even the girls had become accustomed to rough walking, and made no complaint of the difficulties. Now and then we had to descend into a hollow, now to scramble over some huge boulders. More than once, scorpions, centipedes, snakes, and other reptiles, started up from under the rocks. We each of us, I should have said, carried pieces of ratan in our hands, which against such enemies proved useful weapons, as a well-aimed blow with a ratan at even a large snake will turn it aside. Our numbers, also, kept the larger serpents and beasts of prey at a distance.

We had still some way further to go, before we could reach our proposed fort, when we who were in advance heard a loud rustling in the underwood near us. We called to Mr Sedgwick. He turned round and peered in among the trees. Nothing could be seen. “Perhaps Merlin will find the creature, whatever it is.” I called Merlin up, and he instantly understood what he was to do. My uncle was unwilling to fire, lest the sound of the shot might be heard by the pirates. He told the men, however, to be ready to use their bamboo spears, which might keep even a tiger at bay. Suddenly Merlin began to bark furiously. Now he darted forward, now he retreated. There was evidently some animal concealed there. “Shout!” cried my uncle; “that may possibly rouse it.” We did so, when Merlin having pushed aside some boughs, we saw lurking among them a huge tiger. The creature was apparently alarmed at seeing so many enemies, and unaccustomed to the sound of the dog’s voice, could not make out what it was. The underwood, also, was so thick that he was entangled among it, and could not make his usual spring.

“I am sorely tempted to fire,” exclaimed Mr Hooker.

“Do not till it is absolutely necessary,” said my uncle.

The animal was moving slowly along, apparently trying to hide itself, as a cat does when in search of its prey. Presently it caught sight of several of our party with their formidable looking spears pointed towards it. It seemed for once to consider discretion the better part of valour, and an open space appearing on one side, we had the satisfaction of seeing it creep more rapidly, and then bound away into the distant part of the forest.

We had no other adventure of importance till we reached the foot of the hill, up which we wound our way. At the steeper part, however, Oliver and I, as well as the girls and the Frau, found it impossible to carry our burdens. “Put them down, young people,” said Dick Tarbox, “and we will come back for them. You get up yourselves.” At length we reached the top, and piled our goods in the centre.

“The first thing to be done is to clear away some of this brushwood,” said Mr Thudicumb. “Were it not that we might point out where we are to the enemy, the quickest way would be by burning it.”

However, the men with their axes soon cleared off a sufficient space on which we might build our huts; and this done, they set to work cutting down thick stakes to form our proposed palisade. At this Oliver and I, as well as Mr Hooker and our uncle, worked away, the Frau, Emily, and Grace carrying them up as we cut them, and placing them ready to be driven into the ground. For some distance round the hill the rocks were so precipitous, that we had no fear of being attacked on those sides. We therefore first fortified the part where the slope was more gradual; and we hoped that, should our ammunition last, we might be able to keep a large number at bay. We continued working on in spite of fatigue, the Frau and her assistants bringing us a draught of water, or a piece of sago-cake to recruit our strength. Thus in a short time we had a considerable number of stakes ready for use. Mr Thudicumb and the other men now began driving them in, while the two gentlemen, with Oliver and I, continued cutting more stakes.

By this time we were anxiously looking out for the appearance of Tanda. Already some progress had been made with the fortifications, and Mr Thudicumb expressed his opinion that even should the pirates appear at once, they would afford us great assistance in keeping them at bay. The remainder of our stakes were now brought up, and we were still driving them in, when, the sun setting, darkness began to steal over the forest.

“And all this time we have not thought of a shelter for you, young ladies!” said Mr Hooker. “That must be our next consideration.”

We accordingly hastened down the hill, and brought up a quantity of the huge palm-leaves which I have before described, as well as a number of bamboos, and with these we soon erected a hut sufficient to accommodate the Frau and the girls. For ourselves, we agreed that, as we should have to work all night, it mattered nothing our having no shelter. We found, indeed, the night air, in that elevated spot, thoroughly dry, cool, and refreshing; so that, in spite of the labour we had already gone through, we were well able to continue it. Having at length driven in the stakes all round, we commenced an embankment. The outer crust of the soil looked hard and dry enough; but we soon found, on digging down, that it was sufficiently soft to enable us to get our spades into it without difficulty.

“What can have become of Tanda?” said Mr Sedgwick.

“I hope the tiger has not carried him off,” I could not help saying.

“No fear of that,” was the answer. “The tiger is not likely to return to the spot from whence we drove him, and Tanda has so quick an ear that he would easily get out of the creature’s way. It is more likely that he has ventured too near the pirates, and been captured.”

“I am afraid, then, that he will betray us to them,” observed Mr Thudicumb.

“I think not,” answered our uncle. “He is a faithful fellow, and I believe that he would rather be torn in pieces than do so.”

These remarks were made while we were taking a few mouthfuls of food, and resting for an instant from our toils. Just then the sound of a voice reached our ears. Mr Sedgwick shouted in return.

“All right,” he said, “here comes Tanda;” and directly afterwards a human form was seen climbing the side of the hill. He stopped, and again uttered an exclamation as he approached the fortification.

“He thinks it is the work of magic,” answered Mr Sedgwick, “and scarcely likes to enter the circle.” Mr Sedgwick then spoke a few more words to Tanda, who now came forward with greater confidence. We had left a small opening on one side for going in and out, and by this Tanda entered the fort. An earnest conversation ensued between him and his master, who explained that the pirates, after proceeding some way along the coast, had caught sight of the wreck; that they had pulled close up to it, and then gone on board. They had also visited Flagstaff Rock, and hauled down the flag, of which they had taken possession. They had been till dark engaged in plundering the wreck. Not finding, however, any good landing-place, they had pulled away along the shore, happily in the opposite direction to that where our vessel was building. Tanda had then followed them. Having anchored their prows in the sheltered bay, they had, as is their custom, landed and encamped. He had left them all busily engaged cooking and eating their food, so that there was no fear of their moving that night. It was but too probable, however, that they would return to the wreck on the following morning. We could only hope that there would be too much sea on the rocks to enable them to land near the house.

This information was satisfactory, and we agreed that the probabilities of their attacking us were less than we had supposed. We accordingly lay down to rest for a short time, till the return of daylight should enable us the better to recommence our labours. Two of our party, however, stood assemblies during the remainder of the night, to give timely notice of the approach of the enemy, should the pirates have discovered us.

As soon as it was daylight Tanda again went out to watch their proceedings, taking some sago and a little cocoa, to enable him to remain out as long as necessary without returning. We, having breakfasted, recommenced our labours, and at length had finished the fort to the satisfaction of Mr Thudicumb. We had now, however, to dig some pits, in one of which the ladies might be sheltered should we be attacked, while in the other we might stow our ammunition.

“But we are ready to run every risk you do,” said Emily, when she understood what we were about.

We however persuaded her that it would be much more to our satisfaction to know that the Frau and they were in safety, should bullets be flying about. “Besides, Miss Emily, if any of us are wounded, we must look to you to attend to us,” said Oliver.

She gave a glance up at Oliver’s face. “Oh, I pray that may not be,” she observed. “How dreadful to think that, although we have done no one any harm, we run a risk of having to fight those savage men.”

The tops of the trees came so short a distance above our hill, that Mr Thudicumb thought, by erecting a post in the centre, we might have a good look-out over the sea. The idea was so excellent, that we accordingly at once went down the hill to obtain a tall and straight tree for the purpose. A little way down the hill were some beautiful cotton-trees. Although the trunk of the largest was not more than twelve inches in diameter, it rose to a height of thirty feet, which we thought would be sufficient for our purpose. The bark was of light olive-green, remarkably smooth and fair. The limbs shot out in whirls, at right angles to the trunk; and as they were separated by a considerable space, they would form, we agreed, steps by which to mount to the top. These trees appeared to great advantage, rising out of the thick jungle amidst which they grew. The fruit, I may as well observe, is a pod, and the fibrous substance within it greatly resembles cotton. I do not know whether it can be used for the same purpose; but Mr Hooker and our uncle employed it for stuffing the birds they killed. We soon had one of these trees down, and fixed in the centre of the fort. We stayed it up by ropes, while another rope hanging from the top enabled us to ascend without difficulty. Our rope, I should say, was formed from the fibre of the gomiti or sagaru palm-tree. The large petioles of this tree spread out at the base into broad fibrous sheets, which enclose the trunk. It is from this material that the natives of these regions manufacture the coir-rope. It is a very coarse, rough style of rope, for the fibres soon break, and projecting in every direction, make it difficult to handle. We had an abundance of this palm growing on the hill-side, as it prefers higher land than the cocoa-nut. Its most valuable property is, being almost indestructible in water. Among the fibres there are some coarser ones, with which the Dyaks of Borneo manufacture arrows for their blow-pipes, and occasionally the Malays use them for pins. Interwoven with them is a mass of small fibre almost as soft as cotton. This, from its combustible nature, is used as tinder. From the tree, also, a refreshing beverage is extracted. The flower part is cut off with a knife, when the sap which issues is gathered in a bamboo cup. It is now of a slightly acid and bitter taste, resembling the thin part of butter-milk. When this is allowed to ferment, it becomes what the natives call tuak—a very intoxicating beverage, of which they are very fond. The seeds grow in such large bunches, that one alone is as much as two men can carry. The envelopes of these seeds contain a poisonous juice, in which the natives dip their arrows.

Well, as I was saying, we manufactured a supply of this rope for our look-out post. As soon as it was erected, Roger Trew climbed to the top.

“Capital!” he exclaimed. “There is the sea away on two sides of us, though as to the pirates, I can see nothing of them. Maybe they are near the wreck, and that’s too close in to be seen.”

We thought that perhaps by erecting a higher post we might obtain a better view; but when Mr Thudicumb went up, he calculated that the trees were far too high near the shore to enable us to do this. We all in succession went up to have a look at the blue sea; but it was then agreed that the post might possibly be seen by our enemies, and we therefore at once lowered it, but kept it ready to set up again in case of need. We had been so much occupied in preparing our fort, that we had thought little of eating or drinking.

“What we do for water?” exclaimed the Frau, bringing a large shell into our midst. “This is the last we have got!”

“I must blame myself for my forgetfulness,” exclaimed Mr Sedgwick. “We ought to have lost no time in searching for water. If one of you will come with a spade, we will go out at once to look for it, while the rest continue at the work in the fort.”

I volunteered to accompany my uncle. “But we may require a stronger digger than you are, Walter,” he said, and fixed on Roger Trew.

Roger, throwing his spade over his shoulder in navvy fashion, answered, “I am ready, sir.”

“Well, you can come too then,” said my uncle to me. “You may bring your gun, though, in case of necessity. We must remember not to fire if it can be helped.”

As only one iron spade could be spared, my uncle and I armed ourselves with a couple which we had formed out of bamboo, and which might assist Roger should we have to dig deep. We took our way down the hill, and as we looked up we agreed that our fort presented a very satisfactory appearance, and that, probably, should we be discovered, the enemy would be wary before they attacked us; indeed, they would very likely suppose from its appearance that our numbers were far greater than they were in reality. As those people fight for plunder, and never for glory or mere victory, they would, we hoped, take their departure without attempting an assault. This cheered our spirits. We had arranged that should Tanda return with any important news, we were to be instantly summoned, though as the fort should we proceed into the forest, would be completely hid, from our sight, it would be necessary for some one to be sent after us. Oliver agreed to come. My uncle examined the ground as we proceeded, now telling Roger to dig a hole here, now there; but no water was found. He therefore said that it would be of no use digging more, as the hill was evidently of volcanic origin, and no water would be contained within it.

“Let us go on further, however,” he observed. “If a stream does not flow there, at all events a spring may be found.”

The ground as we advanced grew softer, and the herbage greener and greener.

“Stay,” he said; “I think some animal must be there! We will advance cautiously.”

As we proceeded my uncle signed us to stop, and looking along the boughs, a huge black creature appeared before us, digging his snout into the ground.

“That’s a huge pig,” whispered Roger to me.

“A pig, man!” answered my uncle. “That is no less a creature than a rhinoceros!”

We watched it for some time, afraid of moving lest we might draw its attention towards us. Sometimes these creatures are savage, and will attack man. At length, however, it began to move off in an opposite direction to where we were posted.

“A rifle-ball would do little to stop that fellow,” said my uncle; “but we may possibly yet capture him, and I should like to obtain his skeleton, though I may not add him to my menagerie.”

“But we have come to search for water,” I suggested.

“To be sure we have,” answered my uncle. “I was forgetting that. Here, at this very spot, I am sure we shall find it without having to dig very deep.”

Roger Trew instantly dug his spade into the ground, and began energetically throwing up the earth. It grew softer and softer as he proceeded, I helping him with my bamboo. My uncle had meantime cut down a tall bamboo, the end of which he sharpened, and he now came back and forced it into the ground. Drawing it up, the end was perfectly wet. “This is encouraging!” he exclaimed; and Roger and I now setting to work with greater energy, at length a little whitish-looking liquid came welling up. A larger quantity appeared as we dug deeper and deeper, and at length we had an ample supply to fill the shell we had brought for that purpose. It was somewhat like dirty milk; but my uncle said it was wholesome, and if allowed to settle, that it would become perfectly clear. After resting a little the upper part became purer, and from this we thankfully quenched our thirst. As our well was at a considerable distance from the fort, it would be necessary to carry up a supply, for should we be besieged, it might be difficult to reach it.

“Now,” said my uncle, “as our friends are not absolutely suffering from thirst, we may as well try and catch the rhinoceros.”

“What! make chase after it?” asked Roger.

“No; the creature is sure to come back here, and we will make a trap.”

“A hard job to make one strong enough to catch that brute,” answered Roger.

“Very little strength is required,” said my uncle. “With your spade and my axe we can quickly make it. Here, let me set to work and dig!”

Roger, however, would not hear of that, and he and I commenced under my uncle’s directions, who aided us in digging a pit about the size of the rhinoceros, the earth around being somewhat soft and slimy. In the meantime the water in our well had not only bubbled up, but settled down, and was perfectly sweet and clear. Under Mr Sedgwick’s directions, we covered over the pit with boughs and leaves, so that the hollow below was not visible.

“The next time Mr Rhinoceros comes this way, he will find himself prevented from proceeding on his journey,” observed my uncle. “I have seen the creature caught in a pit like this, and I have little doubt that ours will succeed.”

We now filled the shells we had brought with water, and slinging them on a bamboo, proceeded back to the fort.

Chapter Twenty Eight.

Attacked by pirates.

The party who had remained in the fort had made good progress in strengthening it, and we now felt ourselves prepared for the pirates’ reception.

“We shall have no difficulty in beating them back,” I observed to Mr Thudicumb, “with a fort like this for our protection.”

“I hope not, Walter,” he answered; “but they are fierce and desperate fellows, and they may use means for our destruction which we little expect. Still it is our duty to be prepared and to fight to the last. We can do no more!”

“But if they conquer us what will Emily and Grace and the poor Frau do?”

“We must leave that in God’s hands, Walter,” answered the mate. “We must fight like men, and not yield while life remains. If we are all killed, he will take care of the helpless ones who are trusting in him.”

Tanda at this time had not returned, and we were once more afraid that he had been caught by the pirates. At length my uncle’s anxiety to ascertain what was going on made him resolve to set out to try and get sufficiently near them to watch their movements. I begged to accompany him.

“If you do, you must promise one thing—to keep behind me; and should I be captured, to make your escape, and carry back news to the camp of what has occurred,” he observed.

I of course willingly gave the promise he desired. While we were speaking, we saw, rising in the distance, a thin column of smoke. It rose higher and higher in the sky. All those in the fort gazed anxiously towards it.

“They have discovered the house, and set it on fire,” observed Mr Hooker. “Oh, what treasures they are destroying—the ignorant savages! and yet, I am afraid, under similar circumstances our own countrymen would not behave much better. They are not likely to appreciate such treasures more than these dark-skinned Asiatics.”

“I am not quite so certain that that is the house on fire,” observed Mr Sedgwick, after watching the smoke for some time. “I should not be at all surprised if it was the brig that is burning. The smoke, in this clear atmosphere, is seen a long way off; and though my house would burn rapidly enough, I scarcely think it would send up such dense volumes as are now ascending to the blue sky. What do you think, Mr Thudicumb? It appears to me that the smoke is somewhat to the right of the house, and further off?”

“I have been watching it attentively,” said the mate, “and I agree with you, sir.”

“Still, as the wind is off shore, and there will be no surf in our bay, I am afraid the fellows will very likely land there; and if so, it will not be long before they discover the house,” observed Mr Sedgwick. “However, come along, Walter, and we will try to ascertain the true state of the case.”

My uncle, charging our friends to be on the alert, set off down the hill, rifle in hand; and I, bidding farewell to Emily and Grace, followed him. I soon caught him up, and we made our way along our torrent road. We calculated that we should have ample time to get into the neighbourhood of the house and return to the fort before dark. I could not help recollecting the tiger we had seen on our way up, and the numerous serpents which I knew were crawling about in all directions. My uncle, however, seemed utterly indifferent to them. We had got to the end of our torrent road, and were working our way through the jungle, when the sound of human voices reached our ears. On this, instead of going straight forward, my uncle turned to the right towards the sea. I followed him, literally crawling on hands and feet, something in the fashion of the monkeys, from bough to bough amid the thick entanglement of the forest; sometimes close down to the ground, though not often more than a few feet above it. I could not help having a fear that in those places there often lurked the fearful python; while some dark pools over which we crawled might, I thought it more than possible, harbour a hermit alligator or some other monster.

We had gone some distance, moving as noiselessly as possible, when my uncle stopped and looked eagerly forward, keeping his body concealed behind a bough. I imitated his example. Our worst anticipations were realised. In the distance I could see the brig burning furiously, while alongside the rocks lay several long prows with swivel guns in their bows, and their general appearance betokening them to be, what we supposed, pirates of Sooloo. A number of their crew were on the beach, while others, in a compact body, were making their way up the road in the direction of the house. They were fierce-looking fellows, armed with krisses and swords as well as spears and long bows. They were shouting to each other, and evidently expected, from the appearance of the road, that they were approaching some village which they hoped to sack. We watched them for some time. Fortunately they were making so much noise that they were not likely to hear us, even should they pass quite near. My uncle, therefore, turning round, led by the way we had come. I found that he was approaching as near the house as the thick brushwood would allow. I shall not easily forget the shout of savage delight the pirates set up when they came in sight of our peaceful abode. They instantly rushed forward, sending a shower of arrows before them, and shrieking at the top of their voices. It was somewhat trying to my companion’s temper to see them rushing up the steps of the house and along the verandah into the rooms. I was glad we had left Merlin behind us, for he would probably not have restrained himself, but would have rushed forward and betrayed our whereabouts. My uncle did not move from the spot, but continued to peer out from among the bushes. The pirates who had first reached the house were seen going in and out at all the doors like a troop of monkeys. They now came to the verandah and shouted out to the others. They were evidently disappointed at finding no one within. I could not help feeling pleased, however, that they were not likely to find anything which they would look upon as valuable, however much the articles might be prized by the owners. In a short time those who had been on the beach came up, and now they all rushed in together, and we could hear them shouting to each other as they ran about seeking for booty. Their shouts of satisfaction were soon changed to cries of disappointment and rage, as they found that everything they prized had been carried off. Some of the provisions, however, which had been left behind were at length discovered; and before long they found their way to the menagerie. This seemed to astonish them not a little. Several of the creatures, however, having been left without food, were howling piteously. At last I caught sight of a fellow rubbing away with two pieces of bamboo, and I knew well enough that he was striking a light. Another brought some dried boughs, and they soon had a torch twisted up and blazing away. Uttering a shout of triumph, one of them rushed up the steps of the house with a blazing torch, and ran round it, setting fire to the light wood-work and thatch. It rapidly caught, and the flames darting out in all directions, the whole house was soon furiously blazing away. Some of the men who had been inside rushed out, reeling as if they were drunk, and I guessed that they had got hold of some of the arrack which had been kept for preserving specimens. They now began to dance round the house, shouting and shrieking as if in delight at the destruction they had wrought. Some of them, however, were hid from our view by the building, so that we could not see what they were about. Presently their shrieks and cries seemed to increase, and we saw those from the other side of the building scampering away as fast as their legs could carry them, apparently in a panic. The rest followed. Away they went, each man tumbling over the other, and caring only for his own safety. I really think that at that moment, had our whole party been together, we might have rushed out and cut them to pieces. I heard my uncle utter a low chuckle of laughter, and presently there issued from behind the building his huge python, hissing furiously, and making its way at a rapid rate along the ground, as if in pursuit of the pirates.

“The fellows have set his cage on fire, and the creature has made his escape from the flames,” said my uncle. “He is wisely rushing to the nearest water to cool himself, and I suspect he thinks less of attacking them than of soothing his wounds.”

The python, however, as he was speaking, began to move slower and slower. He evidently had considerable difficulty in working his way over the ground. Presently his head, hitherto erect, sunk down, and he lay stretched out at his full length apparently dead.

“It will be as well,” said my uncle, “to make our way back to the fort, for these fellows will soon recover from their panic, and will suspect that the owners of the house are not far off. We cannot remain long concealed from them, for if they once begin to search about, they will soon discover the path to our river road.”

We accordingly hurried back to the fort. We found that Tanda had arrived before us. The whole party were in a great state of alarm, for he had made signs that the pirates had landed, and they also had seen the smoke from the burning house. They also dreaded from his signs that we had fallen into their power. I was glad to find that some deep caves had been dug, in which Emily and her companions could find shelter. The provisions had also been stored in them. All our arms were loaded. A number of bamboo stakes had likewise been formed, their points projecting out between the palisades to prevent the pirates from climbing over them. Our return quickly restored the spirits of the party. Emily threw herself into my arms and burst into tears, and Grace followed her example.

We had now a time of great anxiety. In spite of it, however, I was very glad when Mr Thudicumb proposed that we should pipe to supper.

“I never knew people fight so well on empty stomachs as on full ones; and as we may have sharp work before the morning, it will be wise if we fall to while we can,” he remarked.

I found that during our absence Roger Trew had led the way to the well, and brought up an ample supply of water to last us for some time. Thus our fort was pretty well stored; and even should the pirates lay siege to it, we might be able to hold out for some time.

“By-the-by, Mr Walter,” observed Roger, “the last time I came up, I saw that the boughs had given way over the pit we dug; but I was in too great a hurry to look in. I have a notion, however, that something or other has been caught, and whether it is that great brute with a horn on his nose, or some other creature, I cannot say.”

As darkness came on, we assembled in the largest cavern which had been dug, in order that the light might not betray us. Here we found that without danger—as the flame would be hid, and the smoke would, of course, not be seen—we might light a fire and boil water, and cook our food, which was a great luxury. Two of the party kept on watch while the rest of us assembled to supper. The sentries were accompanied by Merlin, who was a host in himself, as his quick ear was more likely to catch the sound of approaching footsteps than any one among us. We were, however, allowed to enjoy our meal in peace, and we, most of us tired out, lay down to rest, while our watch was set as usual. Often during the night I fancied I heard the cries of the Malays rushing up the hill, and I started up to find that I had been dreaming. Hour after hour passed by, Mr Thudicumb would not let me go on guard, as he said I was already tired out. I slept on and on, and at length daylight streamed in through the entrance of the rustic hut in which I had passed the night. Emily and Grace were on foot, and soon afterwards Frau Ursula made her appearance at the entrance of their bower. “No pirate come,” she observed. “I hope they go away, and not find us out.” I heartily hoped so also; but, at the same time, had it not been for the girls, I own I should rather have liked to have had a brush with the pirates, so confident did I feel that we could beat them off. Oliver soon joined us. He looked somewhat pale, I fancied.

“I have not slept at all,” he whispered to me. “I have been praying that we may be protected from those fearful men. It would be so dreadful to have to fight them. Before they could be driven off, so many would be killed; and Walter, I confess I cannot bear the thoughts of destroying our fellow-creatures.”

“I do not wish it either,” I said; “but if they come, they must take the consequences.”

I was sure that, notwithstanding his feelings, no one would fight more bravely than Oliver. Those who had been on watch during the night, now got up, and the whole party assembled in the centre of our fort.

“Gentlemen,” said Mr Thudicumb, “on board the Bussorah Merchant we always used to have morning prayers when the weather permitted, and, with your leave, we will have them now. We have plenty to pray for, and much to be thankful for. We should be thankful we have escaped the dangers from which so many of our fellow-creatures have suffered, and that we are all alive and well; and we need to pray that a stronger arm than ours may fight for us, should we be attacked by those fierce and ignorant savages.”

“Very right,” said Mr Hooker, “and I am sure all will agree with you.”

Mr Sedgwick, however, made no remark. He had never said anything against religion; but I had observed, since we first found him, that he did not appear to be in any way under its influence. However, as he did not object, Mr Thudicumb forthwith produced a Bible which he had found in the cabin of the brig uninjured. He now read a portion of Scripture, and then offered up an earnest prayer for our deliverance. I know I for one felt more cheerful after it, and so I am sure did Emily and Grace, while a tear stood in Oliver’s eye. He had entered more than any of us, with all his heart, into the simple prayer of the untutored sailor. Watch was, of course, kept meantime by one of the party, and we then in good spirits went to breakfast, having lighted our fire as before in the pit, making as small a one as possible, so as not to allow the smoke to be seen at a distance.

Once more Tanda went out as a scout to try and ascertain what the pirates were about. Soon after he had gone, we were aroused by a loud squeaking which seemed to come from the wood at the bottom of the hill. It sounded exactly like the cry of a pig. Oliver and I offered to go down and ascertain what it was. I was starting without any arms, and had got to the gate, when it occurred to me that I might as well take a fowling-piece. I ran back for it, and Oliver and I then set forward down the hill. The squeaking sound increased for a little time, and then ceased. We had, however, marked the place from whence it had come. We were making our way through the forest, when Oliver seized my arm.

“Stop, Walter,” he exclaimed; “not a step further! See, see!” There, at the foot of a large tree, with its tail coiled round an upper branch, its body circling the trunk, was a huge python. Our uncle’s pet, compared to it, was a mere pigmy. It was pressing with its enormous body a large pig, which, with its huge mouth wide open, it was preparing to swallow. So eager was it that it did not observe us. We stood transfixed with a feeling akin to horror, lest any movement might disturb it. We knew that we should be much safer should it once get the unfortunate pig within its jaws. Greatly to my relief, it now darted down upon the pig, taking the head within its mouth, and gradually it began to suck in the body. We watched it without moving or speaking. In a short time, more than half the quadruped had disappeared, and I now knew, from the formation of the animal’s teeth, that no power could draw it out again, and that thus, till it had entirely swallowed it, we were safe. Now was the time, therefore, to beat our retreat, and we hurried back to the fort with an account of what we had seen.

“We must prevent the creature from causing further mischief,” said Mr Hooker, seizing an axe. “When it has digested the pig, it may pay us a visit, and may be a more awkward enemy to deal with than even the pirates. Now, if we make haste, he is at our mercy.”

Potto Jumbo begged that he might accompany us, and Oliver and he and I, with the two gentlemen, each armed with an axe and a long bamboo spear, hurried back to where we had seen the python. As we reached it the hind legs of the pig were just disappearing within its jaws. “Now is the time for the attack,” cried Mr Sedgwick, rushing forward with his axe and dealing the animal a blow behind the neck. It instantly uncoiled its powerful tail and attempted to seize its enemy. It seemed as if it could have crushed him with one blow against the tree, but he gave a spring and just escaped it. At the same instant Potto Jumbo sprang in and struck the tail, which instantly flew back and again encircled the tree. The monster now tried to lift up his head to make a spring towards us, but the pig prevented it from opening its jaws, though the force with which it projected its enormous head was sufficient to have knocked down the strongest man and killed him on the spot. Mr Hooker was on the watch, and received it on the point of his spear, which transfixed its throat, and must have gone through the pig’s body at the same time. Still his spine was uninjured, and there was great danger in getting within the coils of its body. Potto Jumbo, however, kept watching the tail, which was again unwound from the branch of the tree. “You cut, cut at the back while I hold,” he cried out, seizing the very end of the tail. He threw himself out so as to stretch out the animal. Oliver and I, who had been waiting our opportunity, rushed in, and dealt it several severe blows with our hatchets. Potto pulled away at the same time. “No fear now,” he cried out; “one more cut and he die!” Once more we rushed in with our hatchets. No sooner did we deal the blows than the creature lay stretched out apparently quite dead.

“We have settled him,” said Mr Sedgwick. “And now let us measure his length.”

He paced along the body, which lay stretched out on the ground, and we found it to be fully twenty-five feet long.

“An unpleasant creature to encounter in a morning’s ramble,” observed Mr Hooker. “But how have you managed to escape these reptiles, Sedgwick?” he asked.

“Simply, I suppose, because they prefer pork to man,” he answered; “and as we have the same taste, we may as well get piggy out of his maw.”

To do so was impossible without cutting off the serpent’s head. This we accomplished with our hatchets. However, the appearance of the pig when we got it out was far from tempting, and as we had a supply of food in the fort, we agreed to let it remain where it was. We had been so interested in this encounter that we had almost forgotten the position in which we were placed. A shout from Mr Thudicumb, however, quickly recalled us, and we hurried up to the fort. Tanda had just arrived.

“He is in a state of great agitation, sir,” said Mr Thudicumb, as Mr Sedgwick appeared, “but what he says I cannot make out.”

Tanda and his master exchanged a few words.

“Friends,” said Mr Sedgwick, “the pirates are approaching. They have found their way up the river road, and will be here in a short time. Once more I must urge you to fight to the last. I know them well. Should we yield, a fearful death or painful captivity would be our lot.”

“We are all aware of that, sir,” said Mr Thudicumb; “and I can answer for all hands that none will fail in their duty.”

The bank round the more gentle slope of the hill had been raised sufficiently to protect our bodies, so that by keeping close to it, no shot—should the enemy have fire-arms—could hit us. All the muskets were laid carefully loaded against the bank, and the Frau and the girls, who had been practising loading for some time, took their places in hollows which had been formed on purpose, where they might load without risk, as soon as the guns were handed to them. We all now stood at our posts anxiously watching for the approach of the enemy. At length we saw some dark-skinned faces appearing amid the brushwood, and directly afterwards some thirty or more wild-looking savages rushed through it and began to ascend the hill. They stopped for an instant on seeing the formidable preparations made for their reception, while, of course, they could not tell how many people were within the stockades ready to fire on them. At length one of their chiefs apparently came to the front, and waving his curved sword, seemed to urge them to follow him. On he came, a humpbacked savage-looking fellow. Even at that distance I fancied I could distinguish his hideous features. More than once he went back, and seemed shouting to his followers to keep up with him; and with wonderful agility, considering his form, he toiled up the hill.

“Mr Hooker, you are the best shot among us, please to pick off that fellow,” said Mr Thudicumb. “If it were not for him, I do not think the fellows would have come on.”

The hunchback still continued to advance, his long arms and claw-like fingers assisting him up the steeper places. Again he stopped and appeared to be swearing at his men for not coming faster. He was now within range. I could not help looking on one side to watch Mr Hooker as he stood perfectly calm with his musket covering the pirate chief. Little did the man think that a musket in the hands of an unerring shot was pointed at him. The pirates, finding no opposition as yet, now came on more readily, and soon another body of an equal number appeared behind them, coming from the woods. I could by this time clearly see the countenance of the pirate. He was an old man, with two or more ugly gashes about the face, showing that he had not followed his profession with impunity. The pirates, uttering fierce cries, were now rushing on.

“I must stop that fellow’s career, at all events,” said Mr Hooker, levelling his piece. He fired. The old pirate stood up for an instant on a rock which he had just reached, waving his sword above his head, and then fell backwards over the men who were coming up behind him. The Frau instantly seized the gun, and began reloading it. The pirates, who had been quickly advancing, now appeared to waver.

“If we had a dozen more fellows with us, we would quickly sally out and put them to flight!” exclaimed Mr Thudicumb.

“But as we are only nine in all, not counting de ladies and Merlin, and dem fellows fight like wild beasts, we hab hard job to drive dem back,” said Potto Jumbo. “Still we fight while we got drop blood in de veins. Merlin fight wid teeth dough; you see dat! Hurrah, boys!” and Potto took aim at another Malay leader who now occupied the position of the first.

Merlin was fully as eager for the fight as any one, and rushed backwards and forwards, poking his snout between the palisades wherever there was an opening, and barking furiously.

“I wish we had another python to let loose on them, uncle,” I said to Mr Sedgwick, near whom I was standing. “It might have a useful effect.”

“Ah, yes; we should not have killed the other fellow, Walter,” he observed. “But, to be sure, it would have been a difficult matter to capture him, and still more so to make him take the right course when we let him loose again.”

The pirates, fortunately, had but very few fire-arms among them, and they evidently depended on a hand to hand combat to overcome us. The larger body had now gained a more exposed part of the hill, and began to ascend quicker than before. We therefore, taking good aim, had to fire as rapidly as possible. No time for speaking now. Thanks to the skill with which the Frau and the young ladies loaded the muskets, we were able to keep up a constant fusillade, which must have made it appear that we had far more men within the fort than was really the case. To keep up the deception, we ran from side to side, thus extending the length of our line, now firing out through one opening, now through another.

“Do not throw a shot away,” Mr Thudicumb continued saying. “Fix on your man before you fire.”

I had never seen a shot fired in anger; but I own my blood quickly got up, and I no longer felt the slightest compunction in killing our enemies. Even Oliver, so gentle and tender-hearted, played his part well, and I believe every shot he fired took effect. In my eagerness I missed once or twice; but seeing the importance of following the mate’s advice, I endeavoured to restrain my excitement and take steady aim before I pulled the trigger. Still our ferocious enemies so far outnumbered us, that if they once got up to the palisades, even though many might be killed, a superior force would be able to climb up and overpower us. They were within a dozen yards when, greatly to my dismay, I saw another strong body emerging from the wood, and with loud shouts rushing up the hill to join their companions. I began for the first time to think that all would be lost. My heart sank as I contemplated the dreadful fate of the two poor girls. What would become of them and the good Frau when we were all killed? for killed I fully believed we all should be. Still, as yet, none of us were hurt, although their arrows flew thickly over our heads, and they had begun to throw their darts at us. Four or five, armed with muskets, now advanced, and also began firing away—their shot pinging against the palisades. We had far more to dread from them than from the arrows, I fancied. As they got nearer, however, several arrows came through the openings, and I heard a bullet whistle close to my ear. It was the first time I had heard such a sound, but I knew it well, and could not avoid bobbing my head, though the shot had passed me. Mr Thudicumb and Dick Tarbox, however, never flinched the whole time. Uttering loud shouts and shrieks, the fresh body of men now joined their companions, while the first continued to shower arrows and darts and to send their bullets among us. I saw Oliver suddenly fall. An arrow had struck him on the shoulder.

“It is nothing,” he called out; “it is nothing,” and endeavoured to draw the weapon from his wound.

Frau Ursula saw what had occurred, as she was at that moment handing up a musket, and springing up, carried him down into their cave. The dreadful thought came across me that the arrows were poisoned. I could not, however, leave my post to inquire. His fate might be that of any one of us the next instant. I could only wish that all were as prepared to meet death as I knew he was. Directly afterwards I saw my uncle stagger. A bullet had struck him; but recovering himself, he cried, “Never mind, lads! A mere graze;” and instantly again fired. The muskets came from below loaded, less quickly than before. I guessed the reason—that the Frau or the girls were attending to poor Oliver. Again a flight of arrows came flying over and through the palisades, some sticking in them, when I felt one pass through my cap, and, as I thought, wound my head. I could not help having the fearful dread that the poison would quickly enter my veins, and expected every instant to drop. Still there was but little time for thought, and I resolved to fight away with my companions to the last. A few minutes more of life were of but little value, and I now fully expected that, in spite of the determined way in which we were defending our fort, it would be stormed at last. Directly afterwards the Malays, showering their missiles upon us, with loud shouts and shrieks rushed on. Some caught hold of the palisades, and attempted to pull them down; others began to climb over them. Some forced their hands through the openings to seize the bamboo spears as we thrust them out at our enemies. I caught sight of a number of pirates making their way to one side where the fort was undefended. Nothing now, it seemed to me, could prevent them from getting in; but when I shouted out, Potto Jumbo joined me, and we rushed to the spot. Just then a loud shouting was heard coming up from the bottom of the hill. I could distinguish through the opening, for the space was clear where we then were, several pirates turning their heads. The shouting increased. Some ran down the hill, the others turned and followed, and those who had been climbing up the palisades dropped to the ground, and then, as if seized by a sudden panic, rushed down the hill helter-skelter, eager to avoid the shot which we sent after them. We could scarcely believe what had occurred.

“Heaven be praised!” said Mr Thudicumb. “We are saved, and I do not think they will come back again.”

Chapter Twenty Nine.

Building of the “Hope.”

What had thus suddenly made the Malays take to flight remained a mystery. Forgetting my own wound, my first impulse was to run down and see after Oliver. I met Emily, who threw herself into my arms.

“He is better, he is better!” she exclaimed. “The good Frau has, I believe, saved his life.”

“We are all saved, my dear sister,” I said. “The enemy have taken to flight, and we hope will not come back again.”

“And he will be saved—he will not die,” she again said, leading me to where Oliver was lying on a bed of leaves.

The Frau had torn off his jacket and shirt, and I found that, like Queen Eleanor, who saved her husband’s life, she had been sucking the poison, if there was any, from the wound, and was now carefully bathing it.

“I do not think I am much hurt,” said Oliver, looking up as I entered. “The good Frau has tended me so kindly and carefully, that I am sure I shall soon get better.”

When the Frau had finished with Oliver, I begged her to look at my head, and, greatly to my relief, I found that the point of the arrow had not entered the flesh; the pain was caused by the shaft, which had passed over my head, only carrying away some of the hair. While the Frau was making the examination, Emily and Grace stood trembling, watching the result. Emily now threw herself on my neck and burst into tears, while little Grace took my hand, and exclaimed,—“I am so thankful! I am so thankful that neither you nor Oliver are likely to suffer.”

“And now, my kind Frau,” said Mr Sedgwick, coming down, “perhaps you will look at my little hurt. You are the best doctor of the party, and it strikes me that I have a bullet somewhere in my shoulder.”

“Well, then, you lie down there,” she said, placing him on the ground, and kneeling down by his side after he had taken off his coat and shirt. “Let me see. Yes, here is the hole the bullet came through.”

I looked, when, to my surprise, I saw a little blue mark, scarcely larger than a pea, and could not believe that a bullet had passed into it.

“Yes, it come in there,” she continued; “I see. Hillo! here it is, though;” and she touched a large lump which appeared just behind the shoulder. “Oh, I got knife. Now you no squeak out, sir;” and taking a sharp knife from her pocket, she made a cut across the flesh, when out popped the bullet almost into the mouth of the faithful Tanda, who had followed his master, and was eagerly watching the operation. An abundant supply of cool water was then applied, and plasters put on. “There, you stay quiet a little, sir, and you soon get well,” she said; “but stay, I want to pull out the bit of shirt that go in—not much, though.” Indeed, the hole in the shirt was not much larger than that in the flesh; but still it was evident that some portion had been torn away. My uncle could hardly refrain from crying out as the Frau probed the wound. She, however, succeeded in finding the piece of cotton. Fortunately the jacket had flown open at the moment, so that nothing else had gone in. “There, you healthy man; you be well in a few days—no fear,” she said.

Seldom has a desperate battle been fought with so few casualties on one side, though, to be sure, a third of our party might have been put down as wounded. We had reason to be thankful; but still I could not help dreading that the Malays might return. Mr Sedgwick was about to despatch Tanda, when Mr Thudicumb proposed that we should hoist our post, and endeavour to ascertain what was the cause of their flight. By means of the coir-rope we had prepared, it was soon hoisted up, and stepped in its place more securely now than at first, because there was no necessity for again lowering it. Roger Trew was very speedily at the top.

“Hurrah!” he shouted; “hurrah! The prows are shoving off to sea, pulling away like mad! Yes, there’s the reason too—a large square-rigged, white-sailed vessel coming round the point. By her look, too, she is English; and they know pretty well that if they were to be caught by her, their day of pirating would be over. Hurrah! hurrah!”

As may be supposed, we were all eager to mount to the top of the post, and have a look at the stranger. Mr Thudicumb with his spy-glass followed Roger.

“Yes, there is no doubt about it. She is a British man-of-war; and I daresay she has been cruising in search of these very fellows. They are all off, though; yes—five, six, eight prows, making their way to the eastward. She will see our flagstaff on the rock, I hope, and send in here. But I forgot; the pirates carried that away.”

Thus he continued making his observations. We all stood eagerly round him, though the ocean was hid from us.

“She has caught sight of the prows,” he exclaimed, “and is making more sail. They are, however, well to windward of her, and I am afraid she will have a hard job to catch them up. Perhaps she will make a tack in here; and if so, she will see us.”

“Would it not be as well to hoist a signal on the Flagstaff Rock, to supply the place of the flag carried off?” observed Mr Hooker.

“Of course, of course,” was the answer; “and the sooner we do so the better.”

As we knew that the house had been burned down, and no accommodation was to be found on the shore, it was agreed that the ladies, with Oliver and Potto Jumbo, Mr Sedgwick and Tanda, should remain at the fort, in case any stray Malays might have failed to get off. It was important also to drag away the dead bodies as soon as possible. In a very few hours they would render the fort scarcely bearable; besides which they would be certain to attract beasts of prey. Tanda and Potto Jumbo undertook to perform this unpleasant work, and to bury them in some soft ground at the bottom of the hill. The rest of us then set off to the sea-shore, carrying a large sheet which had been saved from the wreck to act as a signal.

“And Hooker, my dear fellow—Hooker,” exclaimed my uncle, as we were starting, “do let me know as soon as possible if our treasures have escaped; it would be heartbreaking to lose them. Send up Walter as soon as possible. The knowledge that they are safe would bring me round quicker than anything else, and recompense me for what we have gone through.”

“Depend on me,” answered his brother naturalist. “I hope it will be all right; though probably, had the pirates not found their way to the fort, they would have discovered our stores.”

We now hurried down the hill, and made the best of our way along our river road to the shore. As we passed the spot where the house had stood, a heap of cinders alone remained, still smouldering. It was surprising, indeed, that the trees had escaped. Had they caught fire, a large portion of the forest, if not the whole of the woods on the island, might have been burned. We were thankful we had escaped such a fearful calamity. On our way we found the apparently dead body of a pirate. I was going up to him, when Mr Thudicumb called me back.

“Stay, stay, Walter!” he cried. “If he is not dead, he may take his revenge on you, even though at the last gasp.”

I drew back just in time, for I thought I saw the man’s eye move. Dick Tarbox came on the next moment, when the seemingly dead Malay started up, and made a rush at me, with his sharp kriss in his hand. But the exertion was too much for him: just as he reached me he fell back, his wound bursting out afresh, and the next instant he gave a gasp, and was dead. It showed the desperate character of the men with whom we had had to contend, and increased our gratitude that we had escaped falling into their hands. Two more we found close to the beach, who had been left behind by their companions in their hurry to embark. One was already dead; the other, though badly wounded, still breathed. We approached him cautiously. Roger Trew was on the point of lifting up his musket to give him his quietus, when Mr Hooker called to him.

“He knows no better, poor wretch!” he said. “If he were our greatest enemy, we should do our best to save him; only let us take away from him the power of doing mischief.”

“You are right, sir; I forgot that,” said Roger Trew.

The pirate’s kriss was in his hand, but his arm was too weak to lift it. We removed his weapon, when Mr Hooker addressed some words to him, which made the pirate open his eyes wide with astonishment.

“I have told him we will not hurt him,” said our friend, “and if we can do him any good, we will. I do not think he quite believes us; but here, fortunately, I have brought some water. He is suffering from thirst; lift up his head, and I will pour a few drops down his throat.”

This was done; and Mr Hooker—asking me to watch the man, after we had placed him higher up on the beach—giving me his flask, hurried off with the rest of the party to the Flagstaff Rock.

I confess I was somewhat disappointed, as I thought I should be able to get a better view of the movements of the English ship from thence. I continued, however, to apply the flask to the man’s mouth, he every now and then making signs that he was suffering from thirst. I looked out seaward, where I could still see the ship, and she seemed to me to be standing towards the shore. How eagerly my heart beat with the thoughts of being once more on board, and on my way to a civilised land! Not that I was weary of my stay on the island; but I knew how anxious Captain and Mrs Davenport must be about their daughter: and she, too, poor girl, was pining sadly for them.

I lost sight of the party for some time, till at length I saw them clambering up on a point of the rock where our flagstaff stood. It was still there, though the flag had been carried away. Presently I saw Roger Trew mounting to the top to re-reeve the halliards; and then up went the huge white cloth, which flew out in the breeze against the dark-green foliage of the forest. That surely must be seen, I thought. The party stood round it, keeping their telescopes fixed on the distant ship. Presently I saw that some movement was taking place on board. Alas! the ship was tacking, and away she stood from the island. Perhaps she will tack again, and once more stand in for the shore, I thought. With difficulty could I take my eyes off her, to attend to the wounded Malay. His low voice asking for water again drew my attention to him. Although his brow was low and his eyes somewhat close together and turned inwards, the expression of his countenance was not so bad as that of many of his people; and I thought even that he gave a smile of gratitude as I occasionally let a few drops of water trickle down his throat.

The ship stood on and on. Once more she tacked, and my hopes revived. She was, however, by this time a considerable distance along the coast, and I could scarcely hope that our signal had been seen. I had been keeping my eyes on her for some time, without turning my head, when I heard voices, and looking round, I saw Mr Hooker and his party coming towards me.

“No chance of getting off this time, I am afraid,” said Mr Thudicumb. “We shall have to build our vessel, and the sooner we set about it the better.”

“We must, however, put a house over our heads in the meantime,” said Mr Hooker. “This poor fellow, too, if we are to be instrumental in preserving his life, must be cared for.”

“Of course, sir,” said Roger Trew. “We will have a hut up for him in no time; and then, as it will be better to be near the shore instead of remaining on the hill, we must get one set up for the young ladies and the old Frau.”

“Very right, my lad,” said Mr Hooker. “But now, while you attend to the wounded man, Walter and I will go and look for our treasures, and ascertain whether they have escaped discovery by the pirates.”

How eagerly Mr Hooker, whom I followed, looked round him on every side as we proceeded to the hiding-place, lest he should discover any signs of its having been visited!

“Alack! alack! I am afraid some of them have been here,” he said. “Oh, what mischief they may have done!”

We reached a hollow under the bank of a dry stream. Alas! the boughs had been pulled away, and it was very evident that it had been entered. The first thing we came upon was the jar which had contained the nautilus: it was open and empty. The arrack had been carried off, and the mollusc lay, entirely destroyed, on one side.

“This is sad—very sad! Oh, what a loss!” exclaimed Mr Hooker. “I hope we may discover that no worse mischief has been done.”

We went in, almost falling over a case which had been opened. Mr Hooker examined it anxiously. It had not been disturbed, but after being opened, the top had been allowed to fall down again. The other cases were in the place where we left them. We now examined them. Mr Hooker uttered a shout of joy as he found that all had escaped. It was evident that the Malays had intended carrying off the cases, but had been frightened away before they could accomplish their object.

“Now, Walter, run up to your uncle with the good news,” exclaimed Mr Hooker. “He said it would restore him, and I am sure it will. But do not go without your fowling-piece, though. We have had examples of the savage creatures to be met with in the woods.”

I hurried along as fast as my legs would let me. I knew the delight the announcement would give my uncle. I took the path we had so often followed; keeping, as may be supposed, a bright look-out on either side, lest I might encounter a wild beast or serpent. Emily saw me coming, for she was on the watch, and ran down the hill to meet me. She gave a good account of Oliver.

“I am so thankful,” she said; “he does not seem to have suffered from that fearful arrow. I little knew at the time what a risk you were all running; but I now see how mercifully we have been preserved.”

Our uncle had been sleeping, but he started up when he heard me speaking in the fort.

“And our treasures, have they escaped, Walter? Are my collections all safe?” he asked eagerly.

I told him that all his things had been uninjured, and that one case only of Mr Hooker’s had suffered, besides the nautilus.

“Nautilus, did you say? Has that been destroyed? Oh, those atrocious villains! That prize on which I set such value! Well, Walter, you must try and catch me another; you cannot render me a greater service. Alas! alas! that I should have lost that one, and all for the sake of the arrack in which it was preserved!”

I assured him that I would do my best to try and catch another, as I was certain would also our companions.

“If poor Macco had been with us, I should have had more hope,” I said. “I never met a more expert fisherman, and I am sure he would have devised some means, though we might fail.”

He seemed to take much less to heart the information that the English ship had passed by; indeed, I suspect he was very unwilling to leave the island till he had re-collected more of the specimens which had been left in the house and destroyed. As yet we could not tell whether the pirates had discovered our store of timber for building the vessel, as we had not had time to visit the bay; nor, indeed, whether the boat had escaped their sharp eyes. That had been hidden among the rocks at some distance from the place where we usually landed, and might possibly, we hoped, not have been seen.

Late in the evening the rest of the party returned. They had given up all hopes of again seeing the vessel, and they came to ask Mr Sedgwick whether he would like to be carried down to the sea-shore.

“Certainly, certainly,” he answered; “though I think I can walk. The lad here—Oliver—must be carried; and if I fail, I will get you to help me. But the sooner we commence building a house the better. I suppose some time must pass before the vessel can be got afloat, and we can be comfortable in the meantime Tanda here, who helped me to put up the other house, will be of great assistance; and with so many hands, we can soon get it ready.”

I forgot to mention the creatures which had accompanied us into the fort: we had to pull down some of our stockade to let them out. And now, much in the order in which we had arrived, we returned to the site of the house; near which we found our friends had put up very comfortable huts for the reception of Mr Sedgwick and Oliver, and the ladies.

It was night by the time we arrived. Our two-footed and four-footed friends seemed delighted to get back to their old location, and began feeding away eagerly, there being an abundance of provender suited to their tastes scattered about.

“Up, lads, up!” I heard my uncle shouting out next morning. The sound made me open my eyes. “Up, lads, up! We have work to do: a house to put up, and a vessel to build; provisions to collect, and stores to prepare.”

All hands of our little community were soon on foot.

“Yah! yah! yah!” I heard the Frau cry out. “I will prepare breakfast. You men go and work. Yah!”

With axes, knives, and saws, most of us started for the nearest bamboo grove, and were soon cutting and hacking away, bringing down the huge stalks and clearing them of their leaves. Oliver and I, however, went in search of the boat, promising to join them. We eagerly hastened to the spot where we had left it, scarcely, however, expecting to find, it safe. It had escaped discovery, and we returned with the satisfactory information.

As the stalks of the bamboos were cut down, they were formed into bundles of a size which we could manage to drag over the ground to the site of the house. Two of the party, under the direction of my uncle, dug the holes where the uprights were to be inserted. Mr Hooker and I undertook to drag the bundles. When we arrived with the first, we found the Frau, aided by the girls, busily employed in roasting and boiling before a huge fire which she had kindled. Oliver was still unable to do any work. He therefore remained at the camp—as I may call it—in the careful hands of the kind Frau; she or one of the girls being constantly at his side, either with some cooling beverage, or with some delicacy which they thought might tempt his appetite. At a little distance, in the shade of some boughs, lay the wounded Malay. I saw his eyes fixed on the girls with an expression of wonder. He probably had never seen any beings so fair and graceful before. I could not help fancying that he must have supposed them angels from another world; but whether or not I was right, I have my doubts. When, however, one of them took him a cup of tea which the Frau had just brewed, he received it with an expression of countenance which I thought betokened gratitude.

When a number of people are working together with a will properly directed, it is extraordinary how rapidly work can be got through. We had a considerable number of the uprights in their places before we sat down to breakfast. We were not long about our meal, as we were determined to finish what was necessary to be done as soon as possible. Having cut down a sufficient supply of bamboos, we next proceeded to fell several sago-palms, for the purpose of obtaining the leaf-stems for the walls and partitions, while from the trunks we intended to make a supply of sago for our voyage. By the evening we had made wonderful progress with the house, and retired to our temporary huts, satisfied that we had done a good day’s work.

Fitting the leaf-stems into frames occupied a longer time; but as neatness was not our object, it was done rapidly. Thus in about four days we had a very respectable house over our heads, capable of holding all the party. My uncle sighed as he looked about it, though, and thought of the treasures his former abode had contained. We now brought back his and Mr Hooker’s collections, and stored them in a division which we called the museum.

“The next thing we have to do is to grow some corn for our consumption,” said our uncle.

“Grow corn?” I asked. “Why, I did not suppose that we were to remain here a year till it came up.”

He laughed. “A couple of months, or little more, after it is put into the ground, will be sufficient to produce the ripe corn,” he answered.

I expressed some incredulity, for I fancied that he was laughing at me.

“Set to work and scrape up the ground, for it is scarcely necessary to dig it very deep. We will put in the corn, and you will see that my prediction will be fulfilled. Fortunately, I saved a quantity of seed, which I placed with my collections in concealment,” he said.

From house-building all hands set to work to cultivate the ground, and we quickly had a large space cleared for the reception of the seed, which, although not a native of that clime, flourishes, as it does throughout the greater portion of the American continent, whatever may be the latitude.

By this time my uncle had almost recovered from his wound, and Oliver and the Malay were much better and able to move about. Both my uncle and Mr Hooker could converse with the Malay. They found him a very intelligent fellow. He told them that his name was Ali, that he had followed various occupations, but that, having gambled away all his property, he had as a last resource taken to piracy. Among other things, he had been a bee-hunter, and seemed to possess a great knowledge of those wonderful insects. He boasted also of his skill as a fisherman. Constantly listening to us as we talked, he soon began to pick up a great many words of English. He was thus able to understand things said to him, though he could not make any very clear reply.

Mr Thudicumb now once more urged the importance of commencing our proposed vessel. I rather think that the two naturalists were in no hurry to get away from the island, as they were both of them anxious to replace the objects of natural history which had been destroyed by the pirates. However, they could not refuse to comply with Mr Thudicumb’s request, and we therefore set forth with tools to the bay where we had collected the materials, which, it will be remembered, we called Hope Harbour. Fortunately, the pirates had not discovered it, or they would probably have burned our wood. The timber and planks which had been brought on shore did not appear very promising; at first, indeed, I thought it would be impossible to make a vessel out of them.

“Perseverance will overcome difficulties,” observed Mr Thudicumb. “Never fear, Walter. With our axes and saws we shall be able in time to smooth away these planks and fit the ribs to the new craft. However, the first thing to be done is to get the keel laid, and for that purpose we must have one of the longest and straightest trees we can find.”

There was a clear road from the bay up into the interior, and while one party prepared the spot where the vessel was to be built, levelling the ground, and fixing logs on which the keel was to be placed, under Mr Thudicumb’s directions another started to select the timber. We were not long before we came to a tall tree, fully eighty feet in height, and as straight as an arrow.

“That will do admirably for us,” said Mr Thudicumb; “for though our vessel must not be so long, we shall require the thicker part for the purpose.”

Tarbox, Roger Trew, and Potto Jumbo set to work to fell the tree, the forest loudly resounding with the blows of their axes. I must not occupy too much time in describing how the tree was felled, the branches cut off, and squared into shape. We then, fastening some ratans round it, dragged it on rollers to the bed which had been prepared, and thus in due form laid the keel of the Hope. Mr Thudicumb, with pencil and paper, had drawn a plan of the proposed vessel.

“We will give her a good floor,” he said, “though she may be rather long for her beam; but a long vessel is better suited to the seas we may have to go through. We will rig her as a cutter or yawl perhaps.”

Day after day we repaired to the bay; but to my eye our progress was but slow indeed, as every timber had to be reformed, and the old bolts taken out of them, as well as out of the planks. It was a long business. With the exception of Mr Thudicumb and Tarbox, we were all inexperienced carpenters. At last, indeed, Mr Thudicumb proposed that he and Tarbox and Roger Trew, with Potto Jumbo, should devote themselves to building the vessel, while the rest of us either went fishing, or assisted Mr Sedgwick and Mr Hooker in collecting objects of natural history, or in manufacturing sago, or in making other articles which would be required for the voyage or present use.

We set to work to make our sago, much in the way I have before described. We had got through the pith of a couple of trees, when one day Ali made us understand that he had seen some bees at a distance, and that he was sure we might procure some honey, if we would assist him in obtaining it. The Frau pricked up her ears at the sound.

“Oh yes, yes!” she exclaimed; “it will be great thing with sago-bread. You go, Ali; go!”

It was arranged that Mr Hooker, with Oliver and I, should accompany Ali in his search. We started, therefore, accompanied by Merlin. Ali supplied himself with a couple of large cloths. He also, as he went along, cut some creepers, one a stout one, and another, of considerable length, very fine. These he begged us to carry. With our guns as usual, we took our way through the forest. I had often remarked that he seemed very uncomfortable, as if there was something he wanted very much. As we were proceeding, we came to several tall, slender, and extremely graceful palms. The trunks were from six to eight inches only in diameter, though the sheath of green leaves that sprang from their summits was nearly forty feet from the ground. They were indeed elegant trees. Mr Hooker, when he saw them, said they were the pinang, or betel-nut palm—Areca catechu. We found the nuts growing from a stalk hanging down in the centre, forming a loose conical cluster. Ali no sooner set eyes on them, than he climbed one of the trees, and brought down a bunch of the nuts. He put several of them into the bag he carried by his side, and we proceeded some distance, till we came to a stony place, when he instantly, selecting two large stones, pounded some nuts. They were ripe, each about the size of a small chicken’s egg, the skin of a brightish yellow. Within was a husk, similar to the husk of a cocoa-nut. Within this again was a small spherical nut, not unlike a nutmeg, and somewhat hard and tough. Having picked some leaves, he took one of them, and produced from his pocket a small piece of lime about the size of a pea. This he mixed with some of the nut, and enclosed in the leaf. He then took the roll between his thumb and forefinger, and rubbed it violently against the front of his gums, his teeth being closed and his lips open. After this, he began to chew it for some time, and then held it between his lips and teeth, a portion protruding from his mouth. Nothing could be more disagreeable than the result, for immediately a profusion of a red brick-coloured saliva poured out from each corner, dropping to the ground as if his mouth was bleeding. He seemed, however, highly satisfied, and continued on at a brisk pace. Soon, however, he spoke a few words to Mr Hooker, who forthwith produced from his pocket a tobacco-bag. The eyes of the Malay glistened with delight as he saw it; and as soon as Mr Hooker gave him a small portion of the tobacco, cut very fine, he put it in with the betel, leaving long threads, like pieces of oakum, hanging out on either side of his mouth, not improving his appearance; and on again he went, chewing the mass with evident delight.

Mr Hooker was not at all surprised. He told me that not only the men but the women indulge in the same unpleasant habit. When a number of them meet to chat, the various articles are produced from a box at hand, and a high urn-shaped receptacle of brass is placed in the middle of the circle, into which each dame or damsel may discharge the surplus saliva from her mouth. When a guest comes in, the siri box is immediately presented, that the mouth may be filled before commencing conversation.

In a short time a bee was seen flying before us; and immediately Ali hurried on at a rapid rate, till we came under a tall, straight tree, with a very smooth bark, and without a branch for at least eighty feet from the ground. On one of the long outspreading branches I saw a couple of large combs hanging down, of a black colour. After watching it for a minute, there was a slight movement on the outside, and I discovered that it was covered with bees. Ali now produced a small bundle of resinous wood, which he had brought with him to serve as a torch, and giving it to me to hold, lighted the end. He then fastened one of the cloths round his loins, and another over his head, neck, and body, leaving, however, his face, arms, and legs without covering. The thin coil of rope he had brought he secured to his girdle, while he formed round the tree a circle of tough creepers, inside of which he placed his body. He now secured his torch to the end of another piece of ratan, eight or ten yards long, with his chopping-knife fastened by a short rope. Having done this, he began to ascend the tree, throwing his ratan band a short distance above him, leaning back at the same time and placing his feet against the trunk. It appeared to us who looked on that every instant he would perform a somersault, and come down head first, with a great risk of breaking his neck; but he seemed to have no fear of that sort. Up he went. After ascending a few feet, and getting a firm hold with his bare feet, he again threw up the creeper; and thus he went on and on. If there was any unevenness in the trunk, he took immediate advantage of it by either placing his foot upon it or catching the creeper above it. At length he got within about ten feet of the bough on which the bees hung. He then lifted the torch, swinging it towards the bees, so that the smoke ascended between him and them. He next in a wonderful manner mounted on the bough; and we could not help dreading that the bees would attack him and sting him to death. He, however, brought the torch nearer and nearer to them; and in a short time the cones, which before had been black with bees, were completely deserted, and their natural white colour appeared. The insects, instead of flying towards him, formed a dense mass above his head, where they seemed to hover as if contemplating an attack. Some, braver than the rest, occasionally flew towards him; but he, with perfect coolness, brushed them away, allowing the smoke to circle round above his head, thus keeping them at a distance from his face. At length he got close to the cone, and, with one stroke of his knife, cut it from the bough, when, fastening the end of the rope round it, he lowered it down to us. Proceeding along the bough, he cut the other cone away in the same manner, when the bees, angry at being deprived of their habitation, food, and their young, began to dart down towards us. He, of course, had enough to do to think of himself, and continued waving the torch about his body, while he returned by the same way he had gone up, though at a somewhat more rapid rate.

Meantime the bees had begun to swarm about our heads. Poor Merlin was furiously attacked, and I saw him driving his nose among the leaves, in the vain endeavour to get rid of them. Defeated by the pertinacious insects, he rushed howling away through the forest. We, having secured the cones, followed at full speed, the bees pursuing us, and every now and then giving a disagreeable sting at our ears, face, and hands. We knocked them off as they approached as well as we could. Though we were glad we had got the honey, we agreed that we had paid somewhat dearly for it. However, our blood was in good order, and the pain soon wore off. We had not only got some delicious honey for our friends, but some wax, which was of considerable value. We agreed, however, that the next time we went bee-hunting we would each of us carry a torch for our defence.

“Ali says there are many more cones in the island, and it is a pity not to take them,” said Mr Hooker. We were therefore ready to proceed, provided we could find torches. Ali made us a sign to follow him, and soon afterwards, on the side of a hill which we were passing, he pointed out some tall trees. On approaching them we found that from the trunks masses of a sort of gum had exuded.

“Those are dammar trees,” observed Mr Hooker. “It burns readily, and the natives of these regions use it for torches; indeed, in some places it serves them instead of candles.”

We found not only small lumps, but some weighing upwards of fifteen pounds. Some were hanging on to the trunk; others had fallen, and were partly buried in the ground near the roots. Ali took some of these lumps, and, putting them on a piece of rock, with the blunt end of his axe reduced them to powder. He then cut some palm-leaves, which he formed into tubes about a yard long, and these tubes he filled with the resin, binding them tightly round with small creepers. He presented one to each of us, and then signified that if we followed him he would find more bees’ nests, and that we should thus have the means of defending ourselves.

“But poor Merlin, what can he do?” I could not help asking.

“We must defend him then,” said Mr Hooker; “and Ali must make another tube to be at his service.”

Another was quickly manufactured, and we then proceeded on carefully to discover the nests. In a short time we came to another tree with no less than four cones hanging to one of the branches. In spite of the injuries he had received (for he had not escaped altogether free), Ali prepared to ascend the tree. He made his preparations as before; and it was wonderful to see the composure with which he occasionally swung the torches towards the creatures while ascending, or waved it slowly above his head when he got on the bough. Four more fine cones rewarded him for his enterprise. The bees descended as before, but we received them with the smoke from our dammar torches, which helped considerably to keep them off. Now and then, however, one bold fellow would rush in between the wreaths of smoke and inflict a disagreeable sting; and we had difficult work to defend Merlin’s nose and tail at the same time. Mr Hooker, however, stood stock still, merely letting his torch burn quietly; and though some of the bees settled on him, they seemed to consider that they could do him no harm, and again flew off in pursuit of Oliver, Merlin, and I, as we ran away from them.

We now commenced our return homewards, laden with our honey cones and a supply of dammar. We were proceeding across a space rather more open than usual, when we saw a creature run up the trunk of a tree and fly obliquely from it towards the ground, near the foot of another, up which it immediately commenced its ascent. I should have supposed it to be a huge bat, had I not seen it climbing as it did. Ali immediately made chase; and as the creature did not move very fast, he succeeded in overtaking it before it had got to any great distance up the stem. He gave it a tremendous blow on the head, when it fell to the ground, and we thought it had been killed; but as we reached it, it gradually began to move off, running along like any ordinary quadruped. We caught it just as it was about to ascend another tree, when again it received several heavy blows. Even then, however, it seemed not to be dead. Ali coming up, pinned it to the ground with a forked stick. We then saw that it was a creature about the size of a cat, and that it had broad membranes, extending completely round its body to the extremities of the toes, as also to the end of its tail. This was of considerable length, and by the way it curled round a stick we placed near it we found that it was prehensile. The creature we now saw had a young one clinging to its breast, a miserable little wrinkled, hairless monster, and apparently as yet unable to see. Its fur was beautifully soft, almost like velvet. The little one had escaped injury; indeed, the mother was evidently still alive.

Mr Hooker at once recognised it as a flying lemur, the learned name for which is Galeo-pithecus. Ali having covered up its head, undertook to carry it home, as Mr Hooker hoped it would recover.

“Your uncle will be delighted to have it in his menagerie,” said Mr Hooker; “and I believe that, unless we cut the creature’s head off, nothing will deprive it of life. So I have no doubt that it will be in good health again by to-morrow morning.”

We had not got far after this adventure when I heard a curious noise close to us, which I thought must proceed from some bird. It sounded like “Tokay, tokay;” almost, indeed, like a human voice. I drew Mr Hooker’s attention to it. He also thought it must be some bird, till Ali coming up at once informed him that it was a lizard, and that he had often heard the creatures thus talk. What it said, he declared he could not tell, but he was very positive that it did talk some language. Perhaps some day a person who did understand it might come that way.

As may be supposed, we were cordially welcomed on our return, especially by the Frau, who was highly delighted with the honey and wax which we brought her.

“Oh! now you shall have honey for your breakfasts, and wax candles when you sit in the house to read or stuff the birds and beasts; though I cannot tell what use they are after you have taken the meat out of them, or wherefore you get so many skins, and pack them up in the boxes,” she remarked.

The Frau was no naturalist.

Chapter Thirty.

Walter disappears—Narrative continued by Emily.

I had not forgotten my uncle’s wish to obtain another nautilus, but the weather had prevented us going on the water for some days. It having again moderated, I consulted Ali, through Mr Hooker, on the subject, and got him to explain what we proposed doing. We could not, however, make him understand clearly what we wanted. That morning he, Oliver, and I, with Potto Jumbo, went down to the beach to procure shell-fish. We had been some time on the rocks, when I saw an object floating in towards the shore. As it drew nearer, I discovered to my satisfaction that it was the empty shell of a nautilus. In my eagerness I was about to throw off my clothes and jump in to fetch it, when Potto Jumbo drew me back. “Take care, Massa Walter,” he said; “shark about here! Never swim out in open place like dis.” I, however, pointed out the shell to Ali, and tried to make him understand that it was that of which we were in search. He seemed to fancy that I wanted him to swim off for it, and, thoughtless about the sharks, he was on the point of doing so. Potto stopped him also, and by waiting patiently, the nautilus shell gradually floated in towards us, and seizing it eagerly, I returned with it to the house. Mr Hooker had now no difficulty in explaining to Ali that it was the creature in its shell which he so much desired, and Ali told him that he had great hopes of capturing one.

That evening Ali, Dick Tarbox, and I, went out to fish in our boat in the line of cliffs near which my uncle had shot the frigate-birds. First, however, we pulled out some way, and laid down our fish-pots at a spot where Ali seemed to think it was possible we might capture one of the much-wished-for nautili. It was at this place Ali made us understand that we were more likely to catch fish than any other. He came prepared with hooks, which he himself had manufactured from brass-wire, some of which had been found in the wreck. He had attached about a fathom of wire to each hook, at the upper end of which the line was fastened; this was in order to prevent the sharp teeth of the fish cutting the line. He had caught a few fish in a hand net for bait. Having anchored our boat by a stone sufficient to hold her, we lowered down our lines. To each hook a sort of sling of palm-leaf was fastened, and in this sling was a small stone, so arranged that on reaching the bottom it fell out. We very soon got bites, and Ali was the first to haul up a fine large fish. Immediately afterwards I got one, and Tarbox before long caught another. In the meantime, however, Ali hauled up a couple; indeed, to each of ours he managed somehow or other to get two. Their names I do not remember, but I know I never had better sport in my life. Gradually the rocks above our heads grew higher and higher in the gloom of approaching night, which seemed to soften the faint outlines of the landscape, and to increase the size of the objects round us. A little way from us was an opening in the cliffs, beyond which we could see the dark forest. From it there issued various sounds, which seemed to echo backwards and forwards among the rocks. Among them we could distinguish the moaning cries of monkeys—one seeming to be calling to the other for help in piteous tones. The effect was curious, and had a peculiarly melancholy sound; indeed we might easily have supposed them to be the cries of captive slaves, or perhaps a more fanciful person might describe them as disembodied spirits in some haunted island. Meanwhile the night wind, sighing through the lofty trees, came moaning down towards us. At length darkness compelled us to give up our sport, and, with an abundant supply of fish, we pulled slowly back towards our usual landing-place, where, having unladen our boat, we hauled her up to a safe spot above high-water mark.

I felt an unusual melancholy steal over me, why I cannot tell, while, by the light of a lamp fed by cocoa-nut oil manufactured by my uncle and his factotum Tanda, I sat writing these lines of my journal:—“To-morrow morning Ali and I are going off in the hopes of obtaining a nautilus, and he feels confident that we shall get one, probably at a reef which he knows of at some distance, almost out of sight of the island. It is so far off that, had he not mentioned it, we should not have been aware of its existence.”

Emily’s Journal.

Only yesterday, my dear brother Walter asked me to assist him in writing his journal from his dictation, begging me to put in any remarks of my own. Little did I think at the time that the whole would be my work. I obey his wishes, though sick at heart and full of anxiety. Yesterday morning he and Ali went off in the boat to fish, saying that they were sure of bringing back a nautilus, which our uncle and Mr Hooker so long to possess; but a whole day has passed, and they have not returned. They were seen to be pulling out to sea further than they have ever before gone. They had been some time absent, and we were expecting their return, when a fearful squall, such as has not occurred since the time when the brig was lost, broke over the island. Mr Thudicumb and the kind old boatswain tried to persuade me that I need not be alarmed, but I cannot help feeling most fearful anxiety. The boat is so small, and not at all calculated to contend with a heavy sea. And then that Malay Ali—ought he to have been trusted? I have heard that the Malays are dreadfully treacherous, and he may have taken this opportunity of getting away to join his own people. I could not have thought that he had been so heartless and cruel as to injure Walter, and yet I know it is possible. Poor dear Grace can scarcely lift up her head; she has been in tears all day, and Oliver feels it dreadfully. If we had another boat we might go and search for him, and Oliver has been trying to persuade Mr Thudicumb and the rest to build one; but he says it would take a long time to do so, as no timber is ready for the purpose. It would, indeed, take almost as much time to build a boat as it would to finish the vessel, and he thinks that it is more important to do that. Our uncle and Mr Hooker are very anxious, I see, notwithstanding all they say. This morning before daybreak a strange rumbling noise was heard, and we felt the house shake, and several articles which had been placed carelessly on shelves fell down. On running out into the verandah, a bright light was seen towards the mountains in the interior, caused by flames issuing from a high peak, above which black wreaths of smoke ascended to the sky. Mr Hooker says that although there might be an eruption of the mountain, yet, as we are a long way from it, we should have every prospect of escaping injury. I am nearly certain that they said this to calm our alarm, for, unintentional, I heard them talking together, when Mr Hooker observed he did not like the look of things; that we are living at the mouth of a broad ravine, and that if any large stream of lava were to come down, it would very likely take our direction.

“That is what I am afraid of,” said my uncle; “but as we have no means of avoiding it, it would be a pity to put the idea into the minds of the rest.”

“Don’t you think that we ought to have a large raft built?” Mr Hooker observed. “If the lava were to come down, we might get upon that and escape being burned, for the whole forest would quickly be in a blaze.”

Our uncle said he would consult Mr Thudicumb; but he thought it would take a considerable time to build a raft of sufficient size, and that the time might be better employed in getting on with the vessel. They therefore, it appears, have determined to proceed with that.

“But our collections—our cases—what shall we do with them?” said Mr Hooker.

“Well, my dear Hooker,” answered my uncle, “though I would willingly risk my own life for the sake of attempting to save them, yet I feel we ought not to imperil the lives of these young people or the others with us. It is sad enough to have lost young Walter, and I am afraid he is lost. That fellow Ali is a genuine Malay; had he been a Dyak, I should have had more confidence, although he might have been a heathen, or a head hunter, or a cannibal to boot. But those Malays, half Mohammedan and half idolaters, are very untrustworthy.”

Oh, how my heart sank when I heard these words. I wish that I had not been compelled to listen to them; it shows too clearly what they think. Oliver, though suffering himself, tries to console me. He tells me that I must trust in God, and go on trusting, whatever happens; that I must not suppose, even though Walter should be lost, that we have been deserted by God; and that we may depend upon it, that he has allowed it to happen for the best: at the same time, that he may have many ways of preserving Walter, however great the dangers he may have to go through, and of restoring him to us. Poor Frau Ursula, after she has been looking at the mountain, wrings her hands, and wishes that she had never come to this island. She left Ternate for fear of the burning mountain there, and now she finds herself in a similar position of danger. However, to do her justice, she tries to wear a smiling countenance when she speaks to Grace and me. We are left almost alone at the house, as the rest of the party are assisting at ship-building. Tanda only comes occasionally to feed the animals, and to bring us fruit and vegetables from the garden. We volunteered to go and assist also, as we could at all events carry the wood, and hold the planks while the others were nailing them on; but though they thanked us, they said there were enough hands employed. I believe, however, that only two or three are good workmen, and I suppose that we should be in the way.

Two more anxious days have passed by, and dear, dear Walter has not come back. We go down constantly to the sea-shore to watch for his boat, but it does not appear. I took Mr Hooker’s spy-glass, and Grace and I spent many hours on Flagstaff Rock, looking out over the ocean. First I took the glass, then she took it; and so we continued, as if looking would bring him back, till our eyes ached with gazing on the shining water: indeed, Ursula says we must not do it again, or we might bring on blindness, which would be very dreadful. If it were not for Oliver I think we should break down altogether, but he has such a calm, pious, hopeful spirit. He assures me, and I know he speaks the truth, that he yet hopes that Walter will return, or, at all events, that he has not lost his life, and that we may find him some day or other. He has persuaded our uncle to let him read the Bible to the party before they go out to work, and he does so now every morning; and then he offers up a beautiful prayer for our safety, and returns thanks for the care with which we have hitherto been watched over by our merciful God.

Again to-day we wished to go to the rock, when Ursula took the spy-glass from my hands, and said that we might go, but that we must not take it with us; that it could not help Walter to come back, and that we should see him without it as well as with it. We had been sitting there for some time when Oliver joined us. He said that my uncle had sent him to attend upon us, as he thought we ought not to be left to brood over our anxiety by ourselves. Merlin accompanied him; and he says that in future we must not go without Merlin. I suspect that there was some other reason, because Oliver came with a gun. Perhaps some wild beasts may have been seen lurking about in the neighbourhood, and they are afraid the creatures may find us out. Oliver brought a book in his pocket, which he took out and read to us. He reads beautifully, with a gentle, yet clear musical voice. His mother taught him, and he says that she is a well-educated woman, and a very excellent reader. It is a valuable gift—for I think it is a gift, although it is one which may be greatly improved by study and practice. Two or three times I stopped him, however, for I thought I saw an object in the distance which I took to be a boat. Oh, how my heart beat! But when Oliver looked—and his eyes are keener than mine—he assured me that there was nothing, and that it must have been fancy. Again and again I deceived myself in the same way, and so did Grace. Once I felt sure that I saw a boat—she said she saw something too; but we waited and waited, and Oliver read on, and yet the object, if object there was, did not approach nearer. Again I declared I saw a boat. Oliver looked up, and shading his eyes, gazed in the direction in which I pointed.

“You are mistaken, Miss Emily,” he answered quietly. “I wish you were not. You caught sight of a mass of sea-weed, and your imagination made it appear to your sight what it is not.”

Saying this, he again sat down, and continued reading. Tanda had manufactured some large parasols of palm-leaves, which sheltered us from the sun, or we could not have sat out on the rocks. Oliver had come without one of these, and we thoughtlessly allowed him to sit on with the hot sun burning down on his back. On a sudden, as I was looking at him I saw him turn very pale, and before I could spring to his side to support him, he sunk fainting on the rock. Only then I thought of the cause of his illness, and, holding up his head, placed the parasol above him, while Grace ran down with his hat, and brought it up full of water. The sea-water, however, was very warm. Though we sprinkled his face with it, it did but little to revive him. Oh, what would I not have given for some cold fresh water to pour down his throat! As I leaned over him I was afraid that he would not revive; he looked so deadly pale, and scarcely breathed. I entreated Grace to run to the house, and bring the Frau, with a shell of fresh water; and I thought that perhaps together we might carry Oliver back. Grace set off, followed by Merlin, who evidently seemed to understand that something had to be done. Oh, how anxious I felt for poor Oliver. I am sure that I would have given my own life to save his. He was dear Walter’s friend. I am sure Walter loved him as a brother; indeed, he is well worthy of such regard. No one also could be more attached to us. I took my bonnet and fanned his cheek with one hand, while I held the palm-formed parasol over his head with the other. Still he did not revive. I dreaded lest he should have received a sun-stroke, which I knew to be a very dangerous thing. It was very, very thoughtless of us to allow him thus to be exposed, but we had been so accustomed to see everybody out in the hot sun that we did not think about it, and used our parasols more for the sake of preventing our faces being burned than from any fear of danger.

How anxiously I awaited the return of Grace and Ursula! Every now and then I looked up, hoping to see them, but of course I had to watch Oliver, in the hope that he might begin to revive. I could not help occasionally, too, glancing seaward in search of Walter’s boat. I thought I saw a slight movement in Oliver’s eyes. I was gazing down upon his face when I heard a strange noise coming from the forest. I looked up, but could see nothing. I thought I must have been mistaken. Again the sounds reached my ears, and then, turning my eyes in the direction whence they came, I saw, appearing among the boughs of a tall tree, a hideous countenance. I had not forgotten the appearance of the monster we had seen at the lake. A second look convinced me that it was the face of a huge orang-outan. I trembled lest he should discover Oliver and me. He was at some distance, however, and evidently employed in eating fruit, as I saw a shower of husks and leaves falling down beneath him to the ground. Still I could not help dreading that his eyes were fixed on us. If he were alone, I hoped that there was less danger; but if accompanied by his wife and young ones, I knew that there was great risk, should he see us, of his attacking us, lest we might hurt them. Though anxious to watch Oliver, I could scarcely withdraw my eyes from the hideous monster, who, as he moved along the bough, now appeared full in sight. The sounds made me dread, too, that he was not alone; and presently I saw on another bough a smaller creature, and then, what I dreaded much, another large one among the boughs on the same tree. Still, as long as they remained on the boughs, I knew I had less reason to dread danger.

How long Ursula and Grace seemed in coming! I fancied they would have been with me in a much shorter time. At last I caught sight of Grace running along the shore round a point of rock, and when she saw me she signed that Ursula was following. A new alarm now seized me lest the orang-outan should see her as she passed by, and descend the tree in chase. I thought of Oliver’s gun, which lay near; but though I knew how to fire, I had never taken aim at an object, and I had little hope of shooting the mias. I was afraid, too, of crying out, lest that might also attract him; indeed, had I done so, Grace would probably not have known what to do, and was very likely to be pursued. I watched the tree with greater anxiety even than before, but the mias continued busily employed in plucking fruit and handing it to the young one; as I supposed, teaching him how to open it, and take the best parts. My heart beat as if it would break, so anxious did I become. Oh, how thankful I felt when Grace at length reached me with the shell of water.

“I could not help spilling some of it,” she said, as she put it to Oliver’s lips. “I am sure it will do him good. See! see! he is already opening his eyes.”

He did so, but closed them again. We poured a few drops down his throat, and then bathed his forehead and head; and in the meantime Ursula was approaching. She could never move conveniently very fast, and she was now evidently out of breath from running. This made her perhaps more inclined to cry out, to let us know that she was coming. Supposing the mias had not seen her, I dreaded lest her voice should attract its attention. That it had done so there was soon no doubt, for I saw him leaning over the bough, and looking eagerly about. Not till then did I tell Grace what I had seen.

“Oh dear! what shall we do?” she exclaimed. “It will seize poor Ursula, I am sure. See! see! it is already swinging itself down from the bough! Yes—there—it has almost reached the ground! Shall we let Ursula know of her danger, though I am afraid she will faint if she catches sight of the creature, she has such a dread of them?”

“No; say nothing: she is too far on to run back again, and it will be better for her to get on the rock, and she may reach it before the mias can do so.”

“But if she does not, I must fire!” exclaimed Grace, seizing Oliver’s gun. “I am not afraid of doing that.”

“But you cannot take good aim,” I said. “It will be better not till the last extremity.”

“No; I will only do so if the mias gets near Ursula,” she answered, taking up the gun, however, and advancing steadily along the rock.

I had never seen her exhibit so much coolness and courage; indeed, I did not think that she possessed them. Ursula had stopped at that moment for want of breath, and the mias also seemed to be sitting on a lower branch which he had reached, gazing towards us, as if considering whether the person he saw was coming to attack him. Happily all this time Ursula was not aware of her danger. Having recovered herself a little, she again began to hurry on towards the rock. Hoping that, as the mias stopped when she stopped, it might do so again, I now shouted out to her. The creature turned a quick glance towards us, and discovered, as it might suppose, that it had two enemies instead of one. “Quick! quick, Ursula! quick!” now shouted Grace, pointing to the mias. The poor Frau showed by her gestures how frightened she was. Still she managed to run on, while the mias continued descending the tree. Before, however, it had reached the ground she had got up to the rock, at no great distance from Grace.

“Run! run!” cried Grace; “get safely on to the rock, good Frau, and I will defend you.”

“No, no, my child,” answered the Frau. “It is for me to fight. Give me the gun. I know how to use it. You run back to Emily and Oliver. Here, take this shell of water, though. I will fire the gun, I say.”

She almost snatched the weapon out of the hand of Grace, who came on towards us with the water. I saw that the Frau was taking aim at the mias, and was considering whether she could hit it at so great a distance. I was afraid that she would not, and entreated her not to fire.

“No, no, my child,” she shouted out; “I will wait till he come nearer.”

Our position was truly a dreadful one, for the creature might in a few minutes have destroyed the good Frau, and then come and attacked us if it had been so disposed. We were now once more quiet, and this induced the mias to remain stationary. I wondered why Merlin had not come. I thought that he might have assisted us at all events; at the same time it was too probable that should he attack the creature, he would be speedily worsted.

We now again applied more water to Oliver’s brow, and gave him a few more drops to drink. The effect was satisfactory; and not only did he open his eyes, but his lips began to move, and a slight colour came back to his cheeks. At length I heard him speaking, but in so low a voice that I had to put my ear to his mouth.

“What is it all about?” he asked; “what has happened?”

“Do not be anxious, dear Oliver,” I said. “The sun was very hot, and you fainted.” I did not like to tell him of our alarm about the mias.

“But I shall soon be well,” he answered. “It is very hot here. I think I could reach the shade of some tree, where it would be cooler.”

“Oh no, no; you must not move,” I cried out. “We are safer here.”

The exertion of speaking, however, was evidently very great, and with a gentle sigh he again leaned back. Of course, with that horrid creature near us, I would not have ventured towards the forest, even had he been better able to move.

The mias had all the time been watching us, and perhaps, from seeing so many people together, it thought we were about to attack it. Now, to our horror, we saw it reach the ground and stand upright, holding on by one of the boughs, and grinning savagely at us, so we fancied. The Frau took the gun. “I’ll fire! I’ll kill him!” she cried out. “He must not come near to hurt you young people.” There was a firmness in her tone I had seldom heard. She felt herself to be our protectress, and was prepared to do battle in our behalf. Oliver heard her speak.

“What is it?” he asked in a faint voice.

“Oh, there is a horrid mias near us, and the Frau has taken your gun to shoot it,” answered Grace.

“She cannot aim properly! Let me fire. Don’t fire—don’t fire, Frau!” he said, attempting to rise. He was, however, too weak, and again sunk back on the rock, supported by Grace and me.

With horror we saw the mias let go the bough and begin to walk towards us on all fours. It advanced towards where a thick shrub grew, when again catching hold of a bough, it raised itself up on its hind legs. “Now I’ll fire!” cried the Frau. I was afraid even then that had it been much nearer she would not have hit it, or at all events wounded it mortally, and I knew that it would become more savage. I cried out to her to stop till it was nearer, but at that instant she pulled the trigger. She had missed, we feared, for the mias, uttering a savage cry, again moved towards us.

“Load again; load again!” Grace and I cried out.

“Bring the gun to me, pray,” said Oliver; “I will load it. I can do that.” He felt for his ammunition, which was at his side, but the Frau took it from him.

“I’ll load,” she said, beginning to do so. All this time the mias was advancing. Now and then it turned its head, however, as if to watch what had become of its family, and this delayed its progress. The Frau, having had experience of loading at the fort, was soon again ready. Kneeling down, she raised the fowling-piece to her shoulder. The mias was still standing upright. At the instant she fired we saw it fall.

“It is hit—it is hit!” cried Grace.

“I have killed the creature!” exclaimed the Frau.

But no, it had merely fallen to its usual walking position, and was once more approaching us. There appeared no longer time for her to load. All hope of escaping the savage monster abandoned us. The Frau, however, grasped the gun, evidently intending to do battle. At that instant Merlin’s loud bark was heard, and we saw him tearing along over the sand towards us. The mias stopped to look at him, seeming to think him a more dangerous antagonist than were we three females and our sick companion. Merlin caught sight of the mias, and bounded towards him. I now began to fear for our four-footed friend, for I knew the power of the creature, and how one grasp of its strong hands would in an instant destroy the dog. Just, however, before Merlin reached it, loud shouts were heard, and we saw coming round the point of the rock several of our friends with guns in their hands, evidently understanding that we were in danger. Mr Tarbox, the boatswain, led the way, followed by Mr Hooker and Potto Jumbo. The mias now turned round and moved towards the dog, but Merlin was too sagacious to allow himself to be caught, and when almost within the creature’s reach he bounded on one side, and then wheeled off, still barking, with the evident intention of drawing it away from us. How thankful I felt when I saw him do so, for his purpose was answered. The creature followed him, making springs which at each bound almost brought it up to him; but on every occasion the dog nimbly avoided it, till he had brought it within range of the boatswain’s musket. The mias, exasperated by disappointment, made two or three successive springs towards the dog, which brought it still nearer to our friends. The boatswain fired, when the creature seemed to discover, for the first time, how near it was to its enemies. The ball took effect upon its shoulder. We saw it stand upright, stretching out its huge arms as if to grasp hold of them and tear them to pieces; but at that instant Mr Hooker stopped and levelled his gun, and the savage monster rolled over on the sand. Still it was not dead, and we were even yet afraid our friends might be injured; but the boatswain stopping, reloaded his gun, and Potto Jumbo rushing in with a spear thrust it at the creature. There was another report, and we knew that we were perfectly safe.

How thankful I felt that we had escaped, for I cannot describe thoroughly how fearfully alarmed we were. There is something so dreadful in the appearance of those huge baboons. Our friends arriving, proposed carrying Oliver into the shade; but we told them that we had seen another mias and a young one, on which Mr Hooker and the boatswain set off in search of the creatures, while Potto Jumbo lifted up Oliver in his powerful arms, almost as if he had been a child, and carried him off to the edge of the forest, where we could all be sufficiently shaded from the hot rays of the sun. Potto Jumbo then set off to join Mr Hooker and the boatswain. Oliver now quickly recovered, and after taking another draught of water, declared that he was able to walk home. We persuaded him, however, to wait till the return of our friends. In a short time we saw them coming through the forest, dragging a prisoner between them. It appeared to be a largish monkey. It was evident it was in no way pleased at being taken prisoner, for it turned its head round now on one side, now on the other, attempting to bite its captors, but we saw that its snout had been muzzled.

“We have brought a prize for my friend’s menagerie,” exclaimed Mr Hooker. “Here is a young mias, and I hope to tame and civilise it, though at present its manners are far from cultivated. We killed the mother, who now hangs to the bough of a tree. Potto Jumbo soon afterwards caught the young gentleman by a noose round the neck.”

By this time Oliver, having greatly recovered, was able, with the assistance of the Frau and Potto Jumbo, to set off for the house. I was anxious to remain that I might continue watching for Walter, but the Frau and Mr Hooker would on no account allow me to do so, and at last I yielded to their wishes and accompanied them home. We reached it without further adventure, having to stop, however, several times to rest Oliver, who was far weaker than he had supposed. The fright and excitement we had gone through made Grace and me very ill; and all night long I was dreaming that we were pursued by the hideous monster, from whom we in vain endeavoured to escape.

By the morning, however, we had much recovered. Our small captive showed its ferocious nature by trying to bite and scratch every one who approached it. It caught Tanda by the arm when taking it some food, and not till it had received several blows on the head would it let go. It was then shut up in a strong cage; but the following morning was found dead, after having made a vain attempt to force its way out.

Chapter Thirty One.

Mr Sedgwick’s unfortunate expedition.

My uncle and Mr Hooker are very, very kind; they do all they can to keep up my spirits, though I see they are very anxious about Walter—indeed, how could they be otherwise? Oliver was much better in the morning, though he was still suffering from the effects of the sun-stroke, which might have proved fatal; and Mr Sedgwick will not allow him to leave the house, or in any way to exert himself. Some of the party go down constantly to the rock and look out for Walter; but when each comes back he gives the same answer, “No boat in sight.” Both the gentlemen do their best to interest me in other matters, so as to take off my thoughts from Walter. My uncle reminded me that I had not been for some time to the plantation, which is at a considerable distance from the house. He took Grace and me there this afternoon.

“There, young ladies,” he observed, pointing to some of the tall stalks with beautiful leaves surrounding them. “A month ago these were little yellow seeds of maize. See how rapidly the germ within them has been developed. See! already there are some ears which we will carry home to cook; and in another month’s time they will be ripe, and fit for making into bread.”

There was a large plantation of them. We cut off a number of the heads which grew on the side of the stalk, several on one. Each head consisted of a long piece of pith, to which the grain was thickly attached, the whole sheathed in broad oblong leaves, which protect them from injury, till the seed is perfectly hard and ripe. Here also was a plantation of sugar-cane. They also were tall, graceful, reed-like plants, and were nearly ripe.

Tanda was working in the plantation—or garden, shall I call it? My uncle told him to bring home a quantity of the canes, and he began cutting them at once. He cut off the tops, and left them and the root on the ground. I thought I could have carried a number, but I found a single cane heavy, so loaded was it with juice.

In another part of the ground there was a plantation of rice. It was on the lowest level, where it could be well irrigated by a stream which ran near. The rice grew on the top of each blade, the head alone being cut off. The rice, before the husk is taken off, is called paddy, and rice-fields are therefore generally called paddy fields.

Among other productions of the garden are several bushes which produce the red pepper. They are covered with fruit of all sizes. Some of them are small and green, and some which are fully grown and ripe are of a bright pink colour. These are now fit for gathering, and after being dried are ready for use. It is called lombok by the Malays. They always carry about a quantity of it, and use it at every meal. One small plot was devoted to the cultivation of tobacco. That also was almost ready for use, and my uncle said we should have a good supply for the voyage. The leaves, as soon as they have grown to a sufficient size, are plucked off, and the petiole and part of the midrib are cut away. The leaves are then cut transversely into strips about one-sixteenth of an inch wide. These are then hung up to dry in the sun, and have very much the appearance of bunches of oakum. It is in this state ready for smoking in pipes. When employed for making cigars, the leaves are not cut, but dried more carefully in their whole state. Neither tobacco nor maize are natives of this region, but were brought from the New World two hundred years ago.

In the evening Tanda arrived with the bundles of sugar-cane. Fortunately the machine which my uncle had invented for crushing them was at some distance from the house, and had escaped destruction. It was sufficient for the object, though rather roughly made. After the juice had been pressed out it was boiled, and allowed to run into a number of pots, where it was to cool and crystallise. It was then of a dark brown colour. While so doing, a quantity of clay and water, of about the consistency of cream, was poured over it. The effect of the water filtering through was to purify the crystals and make them almost white. My uncle told us that it was discovered that the clay would produce this effect by a native, who observed that when birds stepped on the brown sugar with their muddy feet, wherever their claws had been placed it became curiously white. When the finer part of the juice had been pressed out, the remainder, which is thick brown molasses, is allowed to ferment with a little rice. Palm-wine is afterwards added, and from this compound arrack, the common spirit of the East, is distilled. My uncle manufactured it for the sake of preserving his specimens; but he said he considered it one of the most destructive stimulants which can be taken into the human body, especially in this hot country.

We had all gone to bed last night, and I believe everybody was asleep, when Grace and I were awoke by a curious sensation, as if our beds were being rocked. We sat up and began talking to each other, both having experienced the same feeling. Again the movement began, at first very gently, and then rapidly increasing till the whole house seemed to be moving up and down, like a ship at sea, while all the timbers creaked and cracked as if it were about to fall to pieces.

“What is the matter? What is it?” cried Frau Ursula, starting up. “Oh dear! oh dear! there’s an earthquake!” and she sprang from her bed. “Come! fly, girls, fly! The house will come down!” she screamed out.

Her voice awakened those in the other rooms who were still asleep. “Don’t be alarmed!” I heard my uncle saying. “A marble palace would be thrown to the ground long before this house will be. We are as safe here as anywhere.”

Scarcely had he spoken, however, when several crashes were heard in succession, and the house shook so much that I felt almost sea-sick. In spite of my uncle’s exhortation, the Frau hastily threw on her clothes, and we, imitating her example, followed her down the steps, where we were speedily joined by the rest of the inmates. There were strange noises in the forest, and it seemed as if the trees were knocking together, while the animals round us uttered unusual cries. My uncle and Tanda were the only people who remained inside. He again cried to us to come back, and at length the Frau was persuaded to return. He had struck a light, and enabled us to see our way.

“There, go to bed again,” he said; “a few bottles and cases only have been tumbled down, and no harm has been done.”

It was some time, however, after we had gone to our room, before we could again go to sleep. It seemed to me that we had scarcely been asleep many minutes before we felt another shock, very nearly as violent as the first. We again started up, and my uncle’s voice was once more heard, urging us all to remain quiet, and not expose ourselves to the damp night air. This time we obeyed him, though the Frau sitting up wrung her hands, wishing herself in some region where earthquakes were not experienced, and burning mountains were not to be seen. Neither Grace nor I could sleep for the remainder of the night; and I found that Oliver had been kept awake.

The next morning, when we met at breakfast, we looked somewhat pale, I suspect. My uncle was inclined to banter us, and told us that we should not mind such things, as he had felt several since he had been on the island, and no harm had come from them. I saw him, however, soon after that looking somewhat anxiously, I thought, up at the mountain, from which wreaths of smoke were ascending somewhat thicker than usual; and I heard him urging Mr Thudicumb to hasten on with the vessel. “Tanda and I will prepare stores as fast as we can,” he observed. The ship-builders hurried off with their tools, but he and Tanda and Oliver remained behind. They afterwards set off to what we call Cocoa-nut Grove, as a large number of cocoa-nuts grow there. Tanda led one of the buffaloes with huge panniers on his back. After a time they returned, having procured a number of cocoa-nuts. They were very different from the cocoa-nuts we had been some time before eating, far more like those I had been accustomed to see in England. When the nut is young the shell is soft, and of a pale green colour. It shortly afterwards, when the shell is formed, turns to a light yellow, and on the other side is a thin layer of so soft a consistency, that it can easily be cut with a spoon. In this condition it is always eaten by the natives. When it grows older, the outside assumes a wood colour. The husk becomes dry, and the hard shell is surrounded within by a thick, tough oily substance, and, indeed, just as we see it in England. The natives look upon it in this condition as very indigestible, and seldom eat it. It is of value, however, for the oil which it now contains. Such were the nuts which Tanda brought to the house. We all set to work to break the nuts and to scrape out the interior substance with knives. When this was done, it was put into a large pan and boiled over the fire. After a time the oil was separated from the pulp, and floated on the top. We then, under my uncle’s directions, skimmed it off, and poured it into bowls and bottles. It was now fit for use—a very sweet, pure oil. As our pan was not very large, it took some time to make a quantity. We wanted some for present use, but the chief object was to have a supply for our lamps on board the vessel. This oil, my uncle said, is generally used throughout the archipelago for lamps; indeed, it is almost the only substance used for lighting.

We were so busily employed during the day, that we almost forgot all about the earthquake. There was one thing, however, we did not forget; for, in spite of occupation, my thoughts were constantly recurring to Walter. As soon as our work was over, we ran down to the beach, accompanied by Oliver, who carried his gun for our defence, lest another mias might appear. In vain we scanned the horizon. No sail appeared, no object which we could even mistake for the boat, and with sad hearts we returned to the house. The sun had just set. As we were coming along the path to the house, we saw some large creatures moving about in the air with a peculiar motion unlike birds. Going a little way we saw two more, and then another couple appeared. Oliver raised his gun and fired, when down fell a huge creature which looked like a quadruped with wings. Though unable to fly, it began to defend itself bravely, and Oliver had to give it several severe blows before he could venture to touch it. “It will be a prize to Mr Sedgwick, whatever it is,” he observed, fastening a line round the animal’s neck. He dragged it up to the house, and when we brought it up to the light we found that it was a huge bat. The Frau, when she saw it, declared that it was a flying-fox. Mr Sedgwick, however, said it was really a bat, and when he measured it he found that is was four feet six inches from tip to tip of its wings. Oliver said it looked quite like an antediluvian animal. Mr Hooker said he had often seen them; that one day he found one hanging to the bough of a tree with its head downwards. He fired several shots before the creature would release its crooked claws from the bough to which it held. Tanda proposed skinning and cooking it, saying it was good to eat. However, Grace and I begged that we might not be asked to sup upon it, as the appearance of the animal was far from tempting. Mr Hooker called the creature Oliver had shot a Pteropus.

Although, through the industry of my uncle and Tanda, we were well supplied with vegetable food, we were greatly in want of meat. He therefore invited Oliver to accompany him on an expedition to shoot wild ducks on a lagoon at some distance. He advised us, during their absence, to keep within sight of the house, or at all events not to go far from it. Ursula begged that Merlin should remain with us.

“Yes, yes,” said my uncle: “he might act as a retriever for us; at the same time, I dare say, we can do without him, and he will serve as your guard, and a very faithful one he seems to be.”

I do not know why, but I felt rather anxious about my uncle and Oliver when they set out. I could not help thinking of the serpents and wild beasts they might encounter. They were going also to a district where crocodiles abounded. I was more anxious because they despised the crocodiles, and said they were stupid creatures, and would never hurt any one who was on his guard; and that only animals when very thirsty and drinking, or people incautiously bathing, were ever caught. As soon as they were gone, we set to work with our various duties in the house. I have not described them, but we had plenty to do, and wished to employ ourselves usefully. After that, Grace and I agreed to go down to the beach in the vain hope—I am almost compelled to acknowledge that it is so—that Walter might be returning. I can now understand how those who have lost some dear one at sea go to the shore day after day and month after month, hoping against hope, that they might return. When I am away from the beach, I am constantly wishing to return to it, and often in the house I look down the pathway leading to the shore, fancying that possibly I might see Walter coming up it. Oh, what joy it would be to my heart! My dear, dear brother!—the only person in the world nearly related to me, whom I know well and love thoroughly. Our uncle is very kind, but I as yet do not know him well, and he is odd in some things. Oliver truly acts the part of a brother, and I am sure loves me as a sister, and I value his regard. Merlin seemed also to watch the horizon as anxiously as we did. I am sure he knows that Walter is away, and is also looking for him.

We watched and watched, till the sun, sinking low in the horizon, warned us that we must go back and prepare supper for our friends. The ship-builders would soon be coming back, and we hoped that my uncle and Oliver would also be coming home. Again we cast one lingering look towards the horizon, but there was no break in its clear, well-marked line. We found the Frau somewhat anxious about us. “I do always think of that horrid mias, for though Merlin would fight for you, yet the creature would kill the dog with one grip of his big hands,” she observed. We had got the table spread, and the Frau was putting some dishes on it, when Mr Hooker and the rest arrived from Hope Harbour. They had seen nothing of my uncle and Oliver. Why had they not come back? I remembered my forebodings in the morning, and again began to fear that some accident had happened to them. Mr Hooker, however, said he thought they would have been led, by their anxiety to obtain game, further than they intended; and as all the party were very hungry, they commenced supper without waiting for them. Grace and I sat down, but could eat nothing. Oliver had scarcely recovered his strength, and I was afraid that he might have been seized with the same sort of attack as he was a short time ago. It grew darker and darker, and very rapidly night came down upon us. Still no sign of the missing ones. Mr Tarbox proposed going out to search for them with torches. Roger Trew and Potto Jumbo agreed to accompany him. A supply of dammar torches was soon manufactured, and each carrying a bundle on his back, with one in one hand and a gun in the other, they sallied forth. As long as they could find their way, there would be less danger moving through the forest at night with torches than in the day-time, as savage beasts and snakes avoid the light, and only harmless moths and bats fly against it. In my eagerness I should have liked to have gone with them, but they would not hear of it. Merlin, however, having performed his duty in watching over us, when he saw them going out, quickly followed, and of course he was likely to be of use in searching for the lost ones. Mr Hooker and the mate were not so strong as they were before their illness, and were therefore easily persuaded to stay behind. They tried to keep up my spirits, and reminded me that my uncle was so well acquainted with the country, that he was not likely to have got into any danger himself, or to have allowed his companions to do so.

Often Grace and I ran out to the verandah to watch for them, hoping to see the bright light of the torches re-appearing along the path. How my heart bounded when at length I heard a shout and saw a gleam of light in the distance! It grew brighter and brighter, and then I could make out several people carrying torches. I tried to count them. I saw three, and then a fourth figure. There ought to have been six. I could distinguish my uncle from his tall figure and peculiar dress. Then it seemed to me as if they were carrying something between them. In vain I looked for Oliver, whom I should have known by his being shorter than the rest. We ran down the steps to welcome them, and inquired what had happened.

“Don’t be alarmed, Miss Emily,” I heard Roger Trew, who came first, exclaim. “Your uncle is all right, but Oliver—” Oh, how my heart sank. “Well, he has been somewhat hurt. He will come round, though; don’t be afraid, miss. Poor Tanda, it has been a bad job for him.”

Before I could make any more inquiries, the rest of the party, who bore Oliver among them, arrived, and he was carried up the steps. I ran to his side. He could speak but faintly. My uncle seemed very much out of spirits, as his faithful Tanda had lost his life.

“I do not know which of us may go next,” he observed. “Oliver has had a narrow escape, let me tell you; and he deserved to escape, for a very bold thing he did. He is a brave lad. It would have been a pity to lose him.”

“But what has happened? What has happened?” exclaimed the Frau. “Why Oliver again ill?”

“You shall hear all about it by-and-by, Frau. But here, give Oliver some food, he requires it, for even I am almost faint for want of my supper.”

The Frau attended to Oliver’s wants, and my uncle sat down to the supper-table and began eating away without speaking further. He was not a man of many words, and when anything had annoyed him, I observed that he was more silent even than usual. As I did not think Oliver was in a fit state to speak, I resolved to bridle my curiosity till the next day. Food and a night’s rest greatly restored Oliver, and he was up next morning at the usual hour. He then gave me a short account of what had happened:—

“Instead of taking our usual course across the bamboo bridge,” he observed, “we struck away to the right to explore a part of the country Mr Sedgwick had not visited. We caught sight of several wild creatures, and among others a mias which led us a long chase, and even then managed to climb up into his nest in a tall tree where we could not reach him. You see, Emily, these creatures build nests for themselves and their young ones, and indeed, from what Tanda told Mr Sedgwick, I believe they build one every night when they go to sleep in the boughs of a large tree. Certainly this one seemed to have no inclination to attack us, and I could easily believe that they would not generally do so, unless alarmed and afraid of being attacked themselves. After a little time we reached a most curious spot, all around destitute of vegetation. The ground rose towards it, and in the centre was a miniature conical hill, out of which there bubbled a stream of water running down on one side of it. Mr Sedgwick hurried forward to examine this curious spring, and on tasting the water, he took some grease out of his wallet to wash his hands in the fountain. Immediately he produced a thick lather, and shouted out to me to come near and wash my hands if so disposed, as he had discovered a veritable soap-spring. (Note. There is a soap-spring of this description in Timor, an island our friends did not visit.) I proposed that as the spot was at no great distance, we should mark it, so as to be able to repair there to wash our clothes, preparatory to our voyage. Mr Sedgwick said he had no doubt it contained a large quantity of alkali and iodine, which had been the cause of the destruction of the surrounding vegetation. Not far off were some beautiful clear springs, which possessed none of these qualities. We drank the water from the latter, which tasted thoroughly pure, and was beautifully clear. Above them rose several lofty banyan-trees, their numberless stems forming cool arbours which tempted us greatly to rest there, and I could not help wishing that you had accompanied us thus far. I think, had Mr Sedgwick discovered it before, he would have built his house in the neighbourhood. How delighted Walter would have been with the picturesque beauty of the scene. Going on for some way over a variety of hills, we descended to a beautiful lake, where we soon discovered a flock of brown ducks. On getting down, however, to the edge, we found a border so marshy that we could not get a good shot at them. On the side where we were was a band of dead trees. We proceeded along the lake, through the tall, sharp-edged grass, till we got exactly opposite the spot where the flock had settled. They could not see us, as we were thoroughly sheltered by the grass and trunks of trees; at the same time it was difficult to shoot them on account of the trees which intervened. We kept as close as we could, expecting them every instant to take to flight, when Mr Sedgwick sprang up, and I followed his example. We both fired at the same time. Although a number of the ducks flew away, six or seven at least remained floating on the water. Had Merlin been with us, we thought we should soon have had them; but now, how to get them out was the question. I proposed swimming off for them, but Mr Sedgwick said that after my illness I ought not to make the attempt, and then Tanda offered to go. ‘Very well,’ said Mr Sedgwick; ‘you, Oliver, stay and take care of the guns, and Tanda and I will go.’ Accordingly, throwing off his clothes, he and Tanda began to wade through the mud and reeds. It appeared dangerous work, as the mud was very soft and the reeds very tall, and often they were hid from sight. I had never felt so anxious before. Presently I saw them emerge from the reeds and begin to swim towards the ducks. Some of them not having been killed outright, had floated to a distance from the others. Towards these Tanda made his way, while Mr Sedgwick swam towards the four which were still floating. He was already bringing them back, when, to my horror, I saw between him and Tanda a huge snout appear above the surface. I knew it to be that of a crocodile. I trembled for the fate of our kind friend. Tanda, I thought, would be safe, as he was near the shore. Could I save Mr Sedgwick? Whether Tanda saw the crocodile or not, I do not know; but he had already seized the ducks, and had once more plunged into the water, swimming towards his master. Mr Sedgwick struck out boldly. He had caught sight of the creature, but it did not unnerve his arm, nor would he let go his ducks. I heard his voice shouting. ‘Fire!’ I thought he said. Putting the other guns down, I immediately loaded with ball, knowing that shot would be utterly useless. I approached the edge of the lake, and fired at the monster’s head, feeling that the lives of my companions might depend on my aim. The ball struck the monster, but I saw it bound off into the water. The creature sank, and I dreaded to see it come up near our friend. The next instant, what was my horror to observe it rise again, and with open jaws rush at Tanda. The brave fellow shouted out and thrust the ducks forward, hoping, apparently, to draw back in time to escape those terrible jaws; but the monster was a large one and hungry, and so great was his impetus that it seemed almost as if not an instant had passed before the upper part of the unfortunate Tanda’s body was seized and he was dragged to the bottom of the pond. Not a shriek escaped him; not a sound was heard.

“Great as was my horror, I still had presence of mind again to load, to be prepared to assist Mr Sedgwick, should it be necessary. I scarcely think he saw what had occurred, and with powerful strokes he made his way towards the bank. Even when he had reached the sedges, I knew that he might not be safe, as those terrible monsters could easily follow him. To assist him, however, I kept shouting at the top of my voice, holding my gun ready to fire should one appear. At length he made his way across the sedges, and landed on the bank, holding up the birds, and exclaiming with a laugh, ‘We have done well! I hope Tanda has been equally successful!’ Sad was the change which came over his countenance when I told him what had occurred. Not till then did I know how anxious I had been. The sun all the time was burning down on my head, and a sudden sickness overpowered me. I knew no more till I found myself in the shade of the banyan-trees, near the cool fountain I have described. Mr Sedgwick was sitting near me, and looking very sad. He felt greatly the loss of Tanda, and, I believe, thought that I also was dying. The cool air of evening, and the water with which Mr Sedgwick had liberally bathed my head, had revived me. It had been a great exertion to him carrying me thus far, and he seemed to doubt whether he could manage to convey me to the house. However, he at length took me up, but he was very nearly overcome, I suspect, when we were met by our friends.”

Chapter Thirty Two.

The “Hope” sails in search of Walter.

Several days have passed since I last wrote in dear Walter’s journal. Mr Sedgwick seems scarcely yet to have got over the loss of Tanda; indeed he was his right hand man. Still he works away very hard by himself in arranging the stores for our voyage, and the Frau and Emily and I help him as much as we possibly can. We have a good supply of sago-cake. We went out and helped him to gather in the maize, which is now ripe—having enormous ears. We have busied ourselves in separating the grains. Then we have paddy. We assisted in cutting it, but we could not make much progress; and Potto Jumbo devoted a couple of days to that work, so that we have now enough. We find great difficulty, however, in beating off the hull in a large mortar. We had seen Tanda do it, when not a grain was driven out; but when we attempted it, we sent them flying out in all directions. However, by placing a cloth with a hole in it, for the handle to go through, over the mouth, we managed to get on better, and prepared in the course of a few days a good supply. At a little distance from the house grew a grove of a species of banana which my uncle planted. He called it the Musa textilis. It was about fifteen feet high. From the fibrous stem of this plant the manilla hemp is manufactured. It was now cut down, and by being beaten thoroughly the fibres were drawn out, and our uncle and Potto Jumbo set to work to manufacture rope from it for rigging the vessel, as they did not consider there had been a sufficient supply of rope saved from the brig.

We had been anxious to go and see the vessel, and one day we set off with the ship-builders at an early hour. Our surprise was very great to find her perfectly ready for launching. Her masts and spars and rigging lay under a shed on one side, and it seemed as if it would only be necessary to put her in the water, and get the stores on board, to sail away. But sail where? That was the question. Should I have any satisfaction in sailing away without first looking for Walter? Would our uncle consent to do this? The uncertainty took away some of the satisfaction I should otherwise have felt.

The whole of the party now collected, when Mr Thudicumb announced that the launch was that morning to take place. Hopes and tackle had been arranged and secured to the rocks to assist in hauling her off, and I was told that I was to throw a bottle of arrack at her bows, and to name her. Having no bottle, I found that the arrack had been put into a small gourd. It was hung from the bows, against which I was told to swing it. No sooner had I done so, wishing the Hope a prosperous existence, than she began to glide off towards the water. Quicker and quicker she went, and it seemed to me that she would slip away out to sea; but ropes restrained her, and in another instant she floated calmly in the bay. Loud cheers broke from our small company, and Roger Trew, who had remained on board, waved his hat, and danced a hornpipe in his glee at the success of their undertaking.

All things are ready for the voyage. The Hope is to be rigged as a cutter. The seams have been filled in with dammar; and though no paint has been used, she appears to great advantage with the natural colour of the wood. I thought we were all to go in her at once; but it is considered better that she should first make a trial trip in search of Walter. I was very anxious to go; but my uncle says he cannot allow me, and that Grace and I, with the Frau and Oliver, must remain on the island. Her crew, therefore, will consist of Mr Thudicumb as commander, Dick Tarbox, Roger Trew, and Potto Jumbo as crew, with Mr Hooker as passenger. He wishes to go, both on account of his anxiety to find Walter, and also, as they will visit a number of islands and reefs in their search, he expects to find numerous objects of natural history.

We were busily employed for several days in carrying down stores to Hope Harbour; even the water had to be carried a considerable distance. It is contained in large pieces of bamboo, which can be stored securely in the hold, as there are no casks in which to put it. Then they have sago, rice, and Indian corn, and young cocoa-nuts and bananas, mangoes, and several other roots and fruits. Among the most valuable are the bread-fruit, just now ripe, the trees of which my uncle planted when he first came to the island. He had also grown some tea-plants, and among our other occupations I forgot to mention, was preparing the leaves according to the Chinese mode. The beverage does not taste very strong, but it has a nice flavour, and will answer its purpose very well. The cocoa-nut oil which we manufactured is also contained in pieces of bamboo. Our sugar is not very white, and would not be considered highly refined, but it is sweet and nice, and Grace and the Frau consider it a very delicious sweetmeat. The vessel is thus stored with the necessaries of life. I hope she may sail well. She is decked completely over, with three compartments for cabins. When we all sail we are to have the centre, the men are to be forward, and the gentlemen aft, with a small cabin for Mr Thudicumb in the fore part of the vessel. There are large lockers on either side for stores, some of which are to be placed in the hold, but only those which will not suffer from being wet, as it is thought likely that the vessel will leak somewhat, perhaps, in consequence of the want of skill on the part of the workmen. However, each one says he has done his task to the best of his ability, and can do no more. My uncle and Oliver retain two of the best fire-arms, and the rest are to be put on board the vessel, in case they should fall in with pirates, or land on any part of the coast where savages exist. We are to go down to-morrow morning to see them off. Oh, how earnestly will my prayers ascend for their safety, and that they may find dear Walter!

The Hope has sailed. We went down to Hope Harbour early in the morning, having breakfasted by lamp-light, and as soon as all had gone on board the anchor was weighed. It was like a Malay anchor, made of wood, and a huge stone to keep it down. Favoured by the land-breeze, the Hope glided out of the harbour. Oliver said she appeared to sit beautifully on the water, and he thought she would be a fine sea-boat. Amid cheers and tears and prayers—oh, how earnestly I prayed, and I am sure so did Oliver and Grace—we saw her sail away from the land. We hastened homeward, that we might get a last look of her from Flagstaff Rock. The Hope, instead of proceeding out to sea, was now standing along shore. How pretty and light she looked as she glided by. We continued waving an adieu, but I do not think those on board could have seen us; indeed, we could only just distinguish them as they stood on the deck. Away, away she sailed towards the east. She went in that direction because Mr Thudicumb believed, from the way the wind blew when dear Walter was carried away from the land, that he would have been driven to some place in that direction. The wind was light, so that she continued in sight for a long time. We could not tear ourselves away from the spot. How well was she called the Hope; for our hope was strong that she would find him of whom she was in search. Gradually she became smaller and smaller, and less distinct; and now her hull was entirely hid from view, and we could see only the white canvas above the ocean. At length that began to descend in the horizon, and a small white speck alone was visible, gradually decreasing in size till it disappeared altogether. I could not help regretting that we were not all on board, but those who knew better than I do decided it otherwise, and so I do my best to silence my regrets. It is a good thing, too, that we have Oliver with us. He exerts himself not so much to keep up our spirits, as to show us how we ought to think and feel; and he proves clearly that as God knows best what should be done, we should bow humbly to his will, whatever may occur. What a blessing it is to know that God watches over us, and arranges our affairs for us better than we can for ourselves, if we show a readiness to submit to his will. It would, however, be a hard trial should the vessel return without having found Walter. My uncle is kinder than ever. He seems to understand how anxious I am, and continues to try and find employment for us. We have a number of curious birds to feed, and some poultry which escaped the Malays having been found, we take care of them, as also several animals which require being attended to.

Among the most precious and beautiful were several birds of paradise, prized above all others in the collection. The first I will mention was called the superb bird of paradise. The plumage was black, though, as the sun shone on it, the neck showed a rich bronze tinge, while the head appeared to be covered with scales of a brilliant metallic-green and blue. Over its breast was a shield of somewhat stiff feathers, with a rich satiny gloss and of a bluish-green tint, while from the back of the neck rose a shield—in form like that on the breast, but considerably larger and longer—of a rich black, tinged with purple and bronze. It would be difficult to do justice by a verbal description to the beauty of that little gem of a bird, when, animated, it expanded its shields and stood quivering on its perch. I often thought how much more beautiful must be the appearance of numbers collected together in their native woods in the interior of New Guinea, from whence this one was brought. The feet of our little pet were yellow, and it had a black bill. We fed it on fruits, especially small ripe figs, and also on insects, such as grasshoppers, locusts, and cockroaches, with occasionally caterpillars.

Another of our pets was called the six-shafted or golden bird of paradise. It was not less curious than the former. The plumage, though black in the shade, glows in the sun with bronze and purple, and on the throat and breast are broad feathers of a rich golden hue, exhibiting in a bright light green and blue tints. The back of the head is adorned with the most brilliant feathers, shining as if composed of emeralds and topazes; in front is a white satin-like spot, and from the sides spring six slender feathers, thin as wires, with small oval webs at the extremities. As if the beautiful creature was not sufficiently adorned, on each side of the breast rise masses of soft feathers, which greatly increase its apparent bulk when fully elevated, and almost hide its wings.

Walter in his journal has already described several other birds of paradise. Our uncle calculates that there are eighteen known species, all remarkable for their beauty, and the curious arrangements and colour of their plumage.

Poor Tanda used to look after them, and now Oliver and Grace and I have undertaken the task as far as we are able.

We had for a long time given up watching for Walter. The Hope might find him, but it was not very likely that he could come back in the small boat. I should have given way long ago to despair had not Oliver been with us; but he showed me that despair is on all occasions wrong, and I endeavoured to overcome my anxiety.

How quiet our party appeared that evening, so many having gone. My uncle spoke but little. Oliver did his best to interest Grace and me; and the Frau, though she did not talk very learnedly, talked away, and did her best to amuse us. Every now and then she turned on Mr Sedgwick and bantered him on his silence. Merlin went up to the seats which had usually been occupied by the absent ones and snuffed at them all round. Then he went and lay down in his usual place on a mat near the door. He had seen them go off in the vessel in the morning. I wonder if he knew where they had gone. I believe he was fully aware that they had gone in search of Walter.

There was another earthquake last night. The house shook almost as much as before, and this morning I thought my uncle looked far more anxious than ever; indeed, he observed that he was not quite certain whether it would not have been wiser for us all to have gone on board the Hope. “These earthquakes are often forerunners of an eruption,” I heard him remark to Oliver. Oliver and he went out soon afterwards to Hope Harbour with their axes, and were absent all the day. When they came back Oliver said he had been employed in cutting down trees. I asked him what they were for.

“Why, Mr Sedgwick thinks it may be as well to prepare a raft, in case we should wish to leave the island before the return of the boat.”

“But could we possibly wish to do that?” I exclaimed. “Not under ordinary circumstances,” he answered. “But, Miss Emily, I would urge you to brace up your nerves for whatever may occur; or better than that, seek for strength from above to go through any danger to which you may be exposed. I think indeed that Mr Sedgwick himself wished me to talk to you about the matter, for he has grave apprehensions that there may be, with short notice, an eruption of the mountain. I had terrible evidence of what that may produce, when Walter and I escaped from our island. He therefore thinks it prudent to have a raft ready sufficient to carry us all. If we could build it, it would remain secure in Hope Harbour, though we may pray that it may not be required. The trees we have cut down are of a very light wood, which floats easily, and we are going to place the planks which remain over from the vessel, with a quantity of bamboo on the top of it, so that we may quickly make a buoyant and secure raft.”

I believe I should have been far more alarmed at this information had I received it from any one else, but Oliver spoke in so calm a way that I felt sure that all would be for the best. I then told Grace, who was perhaps more alarmed than I had expected her to be. I trusted, too, that the Hope would return before such a fearful event should occur, and that we might be safe away from the island in her. We gradually told the Frau what Mr Sedgwick apprehended. “Ah, yes!” she said, looking up at the mountain, “I think so too. Before long that send up stones and ashes, and send down rivers of lava from its sides; but I hope we be away first. I would rather be living in my own Dutch land, where we see no hill higher than a mole-hill, and where we have the sea ready to come in over the country with every storm, than I would live out in these beautiful lands, where the earthquake like the sea, and the mountains are like so many cannons stuck in the ground with their muzzles up.”

When my uncle came home I told him what I had heard, and begged he would allow us to come and help him and Oliver to make the raft. “I do not know that you can help us in building the raft,” he said; “but you can assist in preparing the provisions and stores, without which it would be of little use, as we should only put to sea to be starved.”

This we gladly undertook to do, and immediately commenced arranging packages for the buffaloes to carry. The Frau hurried off, and worked very energetically, every now and then casting an anxious glance up at the mountain. “What if it blow up before we ready?” she exclaimed. “Dear, oh dear!” The buffaloes had become so accustomed to us that we could lead them without difficulty, and as soon therefore as we were ready, we started off by the well-beaten track to Hope Harbour. I will not say that we were not a little anxious lest we might meet a mias or tiger or other wild beast, but we had Merlin as a guard, besides which, we hoped that the frequent firing of the guns had driven them away. We found my uncle and Oliver hard at work upon the raft. It was now almost ready to launch. “We must build a shed also in which to store our goods till the moment comes for embarking, should we be compelled to quit the island,” he observed. “We will hope, however, for the best, and that the old mountain will remain quiet till the Hope returns.” We made three trips with the buffaloes, till we had collected an ample supply of provisions, as also some additional clothing, and canvas with which to form a covering to the raft. We were of some assistance also in putting up the shed. This was soon done. It had, however, to be tolerably secure, to prevent the entrance of monkeys, or any wandering bear which might have found his way to the store. Both creatures are great thieves, and would have carried off the whole of them. This done, my uncle and Oliver made several improvements on the raft. A strong rail was put up round it to serve as a bulwark, and a place raised in the centre, also securely railed in, which they said should be our post. They rigged also a couple of masts and sails, and some long oars, as well as a rudder and some short paddles, which latter might be used at times when the oars could not be so well worked. Altogether we looked with some satisfaction on the raft, and felt thankful that we had the means of escaping should we be driven from the island.

We were now looking out every day for the return of the Hope. The weather, which for long had been very fine, once more gave signs of changing. We remembered too clearly the sad night when the brig was lost, and we dreaded lest the cutter might be exposed to a similar danger. Hitherto the weather had been beautifully calm and clear; now clouds were gathering in the sky, though the wind was not as yet very strong.

“How dreadful it would be,” said Grace, “if the mountain were to burst forth while a hurricane was blowing! We should be driven from the island, and yet not be able to venture on the sea.”

“We should not give way to such thoughts, Miss Grace,” remarked Oliver. “Let us go on trusting to Him who has hitherto taken care of us.”

“I feel rebuked,” said Grace, a little time afterwards; “I will try to quiet my alarms, and hope for the best.”

Having now made all the arrangements which could be thought of, we very frequently went down to Flagstaff Rock to look out for the Hope. Often we had to return disappointed, however. At length one day, when Oliver, Grace, and I, attended by Merlin, were collected there, Grace exclaimed—

“See! see! there is a white spot in the horizon!”

We all looked towards it.

“I fear it is a line of foam-crested seas,” said Oliver. “See! it extends far on either side. It is caused by a hurricane, which is sweeping towards us.”

“Oh, but I am sure there is a sail too!” said Grace. “Look again, Oliver. If you shade your eyes, you will see it rising above the foam.”

We all looked; and at length both Oliver and I agreed with Grace that there was a vessel’s sail. She seemed to be coming towards the island. How eagerly we gazed at her! At length we had no doubt about the matter; and Oliver said he was sure she was the cutter. We wished to let Mr Sedgwick and the Frau know the good news; and yet neither of us liked to leave the spot.

“Merlin can remain with you,” said Oliver at length, “and I will go and tell them;” and off he set.

The cutter drew nearer and nearer, carrying a press of sail, considering the strong wind which was now blowing. She was apparently making for Hope Harbour, instead of standing in towards Flagstaff Rock. From the way of the wind, the entrance to Hope Harbour would be tolerably sheltered. This probably was the reason. I understood enough about sea affairs to know that she was carrying so much canvas in order to weather Flagstaff Cape. When that was done, I trusted she would be safe. Oh, how I wished we had a spy-glass to see who was on board! Could Walter be there? How my heart beat! Poor dear Grace, too, was greatly agitated. We had long wished for this moment; and now it had come. Not only were we still in doubt, but agitated by anxiety for the safety of those on board. It appeared to me that our friends were in great danger, from the way the little cutter heeled over to the wind. On she stood, without attempting to lessen the sail; when, as we were gazing at her, suddenly a fearful blast struck her. Over bent her mast and sail. We both of us shrieked with horror. Before we could look again she was upset, and the sea breaking wildly over her.

“Oh, she will sink! she will sink!” cried Grace—“and all will be drowned!”

She had passed the cape, and was driving in towards the shore, the sea every instant increasing in height and fury. Would she float till she reached it? or, should she reach it, would she escape the fearful rocks which lined so long an extent of the coast? We watched her with fearful anxiety, trying to ascertain what those on board were doing; but the distance and the spray which drove over her almost concealed them from our sight. We were still gazing at them, when we heard my uncle and Oliver utter exclamations of dismay. They had just arrived at the spot where we were.

“We must go round to Cormorant Bay,” said my uncle. “I think she will drive ashore thereabouts, if she floats as long; and if our friends can manage to cling on till then, they may possibly be saved. But the risk is a fearful one.”

Hurrying from the rock, we had to go all the way round by the house to get to the bay of which my uncle spoke. The Frau saw us as we passed, and followed as fast as she could move, though she in vain attempted to keep up with us. On we ran with Merlin. We no longer thought of snakes, or orang-outans, or tigers, so eager were we to reach the bay. As we passed the house, our uncle and Oliver snatched up some large bamboos and ropes to assist them in getting our friends on shore. We eagerly looked out through each opening towards the sea, in the hope of seeing the vessel; but she was nowhere visible. Oh, how my heart trembled lest she should have sunk before reaching the shore! Sometimes our agitation was so great that Grace and I could scarcely proceed. Again we regained our courage, and ran on; but I felt as if I was in some fearful dream, so eager were we to get there, and yet so incapable did we feel ourselves of moving fast. At length the bay to which we were directing our course appeared between the trees. We made our way down to the beach; but so fearfully agitated was the ocean that we could not at first distinguish the vessel. Yes! but there she was, though—still floating, and at some distance from the land; but the foaming seas were washing over her, and it seemed impossible that anybody could yet be clinging to her sides. The spray broke in our faces, and prevented us from seeing clearly. Oliver, however, at last exclaimed—

“Yes, yes—I am sure there is some one holding on to the bulwarks! Yes! I see two—three figures! I am sure of that. Perhaps there are more.”

We stood with aching eyes gazing on the vessel. We could render her no assistance. Still it was evident she was driving in closer and closer. Happily the bay towards which she was coming was free of rocks; and though a tremendous surf broke on it, yet it might be possible for them, with our assistance, to escape to land should she once reach the beach. As she drew near, my uncle fastened a rope round his waist, and told Oliver to do the same.

“Now, Frau,” he said, “you take hold of this rope, and do not let me go, or my life will be sacrificed. Girls, do you do the same for Oliver.”

And thus they stood, each with a long bamboo in his hand, ready to rush in and help those who might still be alive. Now the thought pressed itself upon me, “Is Walter among them? If he is, will he reach the shore alive?”

Grace and I grasped the rope tightly. Now a huge wave came roaring in, with the vessel on its summit. She seemed close to us, and then away she glided towards the ocean. Oh, how it tantalised us as we saw several persons still clinging to her!—and I thought I could distinguish Mr Hooker and Dick Tarbox. Yes—and there was a slight figure also. “Can that be Walter? Yes, yes—it must be!” I thought.

And now once again the vessel was driving towards the land. On—on she came! Now at length she touched the beach.

“Spring! spring!” cried Mr Sedgwick, rushing into the water, the Frau holding the rope with all her might. Oliver followed his example.

The figure on which my eyes were fixed let go its hold, and the next instant was buffeting the waves, which seemed to be carrying him out to sea. Oliver dashed in, we almost being dragged in after him. But we held the rope tightly, leaning back against it; and Oliver grasped the person with his hand, and with desperate energy we hauled them both ashore. Oh, what joy and gratitude I felt when I recognised Walter, as he staggered forward towards us!

“Yes, I am safe, dear sister! And you—” He could say no more, ere he sank on the ground. “Go and help the others,” he said, faintly. “Do not delay. On, Oliver, on!”

Oliver again rushed forward, and caught hold of Potto Jumbo, who at that moment leapt from the vessel, to which he had till then been clinging, into the foaming surf. Oliver grasped him by his woolly hair just as he was being torn away; and directly after, Potto, gaining his feet, rushed up the sand carrying Oliver in his arms. Oliver himself was almost overcome by his exertion. My uncle, in the meantime, had caught hold of Mr Hooker, and placed him in safety, and was now rushing in to help Dick Tarbox. He succeeded in his efforts. Meantime Potto Jumbo, taking the rope off Oliver, fastened it round his own waist. “I go for the others,” he cried out. “You hold dere, Oliver and you young ladies. Don’t let go. Walter, he soon come all right—no fear.” Saying this, Potto rushed into the water, and reaching the wreck, seized hold of Mr Thudicumb, who was still clinging to it. But where was honest Roger Trew? Mr Thudicumb was landed, but greatly exhausted. Just then we saw another figure holding on to the bulwarks forward; but he had before been so completely covered with the foam, that we had not observed him. Mr Sedgwick and Potto made a dash at him together, and though he appeared more dead than alive, they succeeded in dragging him up the beach. Still another person remained onboard. Who could he be? “I see, I see!” cried Potto Jumbo. “I see; I go get him. He my cook-mate. Hurrah! hurrah!” Saying this, Potto Jumbo fastened the end of Mr Sedgwick’s rope to his own, and crying out to the rest to hold it, he darted once more into the sea. Twice the surf bore him back again to the beach; but he persevered, shouting out at the same time, “Come, come—no fear!” The person he was attempting to rescue heard him, and waiting till a sea was approaching, sprang in. The wave carried him towards Potto, who seized him in his powerful grasp; and those who had hold of the rope hauling away, both were dragged up in safety. Yes, there stood Macco, whom we supposed, as Walter had done, had been killed by the savages. There he was, however, there could be no doubt about that. He crawled to Walter’s side, and taking his hand, looked in his face, exclaiming, “Oh, I t’ankful you escape, Massa Walter. Me lub you as one fader, one broder, one eberyt’ing.” The expression of Macco’s countenance showed that his words were true.

Not till now could I run to Walter’s side, and for some minutes I could do nothing else but put my arms round his neck and kiss him again and again.

“We may well thank Heaven that we have escaped,” said Mr Hooker; “but what will become of the vessel I cannot tell.”

“We must try and secure her,” said Mr Thudicumb; “for though she is getting a fearful bumping, if she is thrown on shore we may manage to launch her again some day when we are ready for her.”

The matter, however, was settled in a different way; for another fierce sea rolling towards us, drove her with such violence against the beach, that her sides were completely beaten in, and in a few minutes she became a confused mass of wreck.

Chapter Thirty Three.

Walter’s adventures.

Although our friends were greatly exhausted by having to cling so long to the cutter with the sea breaking furiously over them, after resting for some time on the beach they were able to proceed to the house. I clung to Walter’s arm as we walked along, and could only again and again say how rejoiced and thankful I was that he had escaped. He seemed so pale and weak, that I forebore asking him questions. Still, of course, I was longing to know what adventures he had gone through. He, however, seemed more anxious to be told what had occurred to us during his absence.

“You shall read all the chief events in the continuation of your journal,” I said. “You remember, Walter, that you asked me to go on with it should you be interrupted, and I have done so; and perhaps if I read it to you I shall be able to make remarks as I go on, which will still further enable you to understand all that has occurred since you went away.”

The next day, as Walter was utterly unable to go out, I spent in reading what I had written; and he then showed me his note-book, which he had fortunately had with him, and in which he had also marked down the chief part of his adventures. The particulars of the voyage of the Hope I had yet to learn. I now, however, handed him over his journal, that he might enter more clearly the events he described to me. Mr Hooker afterwards told us about the voyage of the Hope, which had terminated in so disastrous a way to our little vessel. Happily, the mountain continued burning slowly, though steadily, and our uncle told us he trusted it would do so without committing further damage, though he suspected that the beauties of many of the scenes we visited round its base must have been considerably marred; indeed, now and then a puff of wind brought a quantity of fine dust in our direction, which covered everything, and even penetrated into the house.

I found that Mr Hooker, and those who had suffered least from their shipwreck, had gone to Hope Harbour. They said they wished to see if anything could be saved from the cutter; but I suspect, from some remarks which they let fall, that their intention was to increase the size of the raft, and to make some further improvements on it, so that it might carry, if required, the whole of the party without difficulty.

Walter’s Journal.

Ali seemed as anxious as I was to obtain a nautilus, and we agreed early in the morning to set off in search of one. I found that he had brought several bamboos full of water, as also a supply of sago-cake and rice. We had our fish-pots with long lines ready to lower in deep water, with fishing-lines and hooks and a supply of small fish for bait. We first hauled up the pots which had been lowered a short distance from the shore; but though there were several fine fish in them, no nautilus was found. Ali now made me understand that we should be more likely to obtain what we wanted near a reef at a considerable distance from the shore, and taking the oars, he pulled away lustily out to sea. In a short time a breeze sprang up, when we hoisted our little lugsail, and skimmed merrily over the water, just rippled into wavelets by the brisk breeze. Ali’s countenance was at no time very prepossessing. I could not help thinking that it had a more than usually sinister expression. Still I persuaded myself that this was fancy, and, ashamed of my suspicions, resolved to do as he proposed. At length I caught sight of a part of the reef rising a few feet out of the water. By the white line of the surf which extended on either side, I saw that it was of considerable length under the surface. Lowering our sail, we pulled round to leeward of it, where we found the water sufficiently shallow to enable us to lower the pots. Ali made signs to me that we should be sure to catch a nautilus at this point if we waited long enough. Having put down the pots, we pulled a little distance along the reef, where he proposed fishing with our lines. We had soon hauled in several fine fish, one an enormous fellow, which must have weighed nearly two hundred pounds. We had great difficulty in hauling it in; but believing that it would be acceptable at home, I was unwilling to let it go. The fish struggled violently, and in our efforts to get it in, one of our oars slipped overboard. I was so eager to get the fish, that I scarcely thought of the oar. We then got it into the boat; but it seemed inclined to take it from us, and send us overboard. Ali hammered away at its head and tail till at last he quieted it; not, however, till the oar had been driven by a current to a considerable distance. Scarcely had we got the fish in, when we had another bite, and this was also a large fish, and occupied us some time. When I at length looked about for the oar, I could not see it. We, however, hoisted up the stone which served as an anchor, and Ali sculled in the direction we supposed it had gone. He thought he saw it; but when we got up to the spot we found only a piece of sea-weed floating on the surface.

The weather, as you remember, had begun to change, and I saw it was time for us to return to the shore. Without an oar, however, this was no easy task, as the wind had begun to blow directly from the shore. It now came in strong gusts, and though there was not much sea, still it was sufficient to try the boat, and we were obliged to continue bailing to keep her free of water. I now perceived clearly the dangerous position in which we were placed. With only one oar, should the wind continue blowing from the shore, we must inevitably be driven off. I proposed getting back under the lee of the reef and anchoring. This we did, and for some time held on. Our fish-pots had been lowered, and I proposed hauling one of the nearest to us up. Great was my delight, on getting it on board, to find that a nautilus had been caught. The shell and creature were perfect, although it was very different from the graceful one I had seen pictured in books, with its tentaculi spread out, and apparently employed in rowing over the water; but in reality, as Mr Hooker had told me, used as fishing-lines, or, at all events, for catching its prey. Another pot was at some little distance, and so delighted was I at catching this one, that I hoped we might find another nautilus. We therefore hauled in our anchor. Scarcely had we done so, when a tremendous blast came over the land, and before we could regain the reef, we were out of soundings. The boat was now tossed about violently, and I saw, and so did Ali, that our only prospect of preserving our lives was to hoist the sail and keep before the wind. The sea had changed greatly, and came dancing and foaming up round us. Where we should drive to, we knew not. My heart sank within me at the thought of being driven away from Emily and my friends, and I knew, too, the great anxiety my absence would cause them. I could not tell also to what dangers we might be exposed. If the boat escaped being swamped, she might be cast upon a reef. We had, providentially, a good supply of water and an abundance of food. Our fish, however, would not keep many days; but while it lasted, we had no fear of starving.

Whether Ali had intended to get away from the island or not I could not tell. If he did, his purpose was answered. I saw him cut some of the fish into strips, and hang them up to the mast. This he did for the sake of drying them, and thus preserving them longer. All we could do now was to keep the boat directly before the wind, for I dreaded lest she should broach to and be immediately overturned. I cast a look back at our island, which seemed gradually to sink into the sea, till at length it was altogether lost to sight. Here we were in this small boat tossing on the waves out of sight of land, and not knowing where we were going. Perhaps Ali knew better than I did. He, at all events, did not seem to be alarmed, and when unemployed, he continued humming melancholy Malay airs, which certainly did not tend to raise my spirits. There is a great difference in reading of an adventure and going through it. I confess I should have felt less anxiety had Oliver been with me; but as I could not exchange ideas with my companion, and we could only very imperfectly understand each other, it was very trying. During the day I had managed to steer pretty well, so that with occasional bailing we kept the boat free of water; but at night it was far more difficult. Still, we had for present safety to run on before the gale. Often I fancied that I heard voices calling to me across the water. More than once it appeared to me that tall ships were passing us; but as we could not alter our course, there was no hope of nearing them; indeed, I believe that they were phantoms of my imagination. The Malay did not offer to steer. He seemed contented with the way I was doing so. In spite of the dangerous position in which we were placed, I was every moment becoming more and more sleepy, and felt that I would have given anything to be able to go to sleep for a few minutes. At length I made Ali understand that he must take the helm. He came carefully aft, and I changed places with him. I had every reason to suppose that he knew well how to steer, from the way I had seen him manage the boat, and I therefore confided the helm to him without fear. Scarcely had I lain with my back against the mast than I was fast asleep. It appeared to me that the boat was flying on as before, though sometimes tossed even more violently than at first.

When I at length awoke the grey dawn was breaking, clouds were overhead, and the dark seas rolled up on either side, foaming and hissing as if to overwhelm our small boat. It appeared wonderful that she should be able to ride over such tempestuous seas. Still, on she went, Ali steering as carefully as I had done. I felt very thirsty, and took a draught of water from one of the bamboos. Ali signed to me to give him another, which he drank off; and I then handed him a little sago-bread and some dried fish. He, however, preferred the fresh fish, which he ate raw. I, as yet, had no inclination to do that, and preferred biting away at a dried piece with my sago. I became more anxious when I saw how far we were getting from the island, as I knew the difficulty we should have in returning. After a time I offered to relieve Ali, and he then lay down and went to sleep. In the course of the morning the sea had gone down considerably; but we still continued running before the breeze. The time seemed very, very long, and my only consolation was that the wind was decreasing, and that, at all events, we might be able to direct our course for the island. I forgot for the moment that the wind might have changed, and that not knowing how we had been steering, even with the aid of the sun we should be unable to find our way back. I was thankful when Ali awoke and offered to take the helm.

When I again opened my eyes, I found that Ali had been eating some fish and sago and drinking the water. I had taken a draught, when, looking to our supply, I found to my dismay that only one bamboo cask of water remained. Ali, however, made no remark; indeed, my suspicions were confirmed of his wish to get away from the island, and he, at all events, seemed to know more nearly whereabouts we were than I did. I knew that nothing caused so much dreadful suffering as want of water, and I feared that we should be exposed to it unless we could fall in with land. I was now able to stand up in the boat and scan the horizon, but nowhere was land to be seen. The sun rising enabled us to steer more steadily, and we continued to proceed towards the north. I now tried to make Ali understand that we must economise our water to the utmost. He took the bamboo, and I saw, instead of returning it to its place, that he put it down by his side. I could not help thinking from this that he intended to appropriate it to himself. However, as I had lately had a draught, and was not thirsty, I made no remark. The sun soon struck down with great heat upon our heads, and gave me an increased desire for water. I made signs to Ali that I wished for some, but he shook his head, as if to signify that I must wait some time longer. I did so patiently, thinking that perhaps he was right. However, at length I could brook no longer delay, and springing up, seized the bamboo. He cast an angry glance at me, but even had he had a weapon in his hand, I should not have been prevented from drinking the water. I could have swallowed the whole of it, but refrained, and merely took a small draught, barely sufficient to quench my burning thirst. I then made signs to him that when he was equally thirsty he might also have some, but kept it in my own possession. I suspected, however, that when I was again compelled to go to sleep he would seize it, and perhaps drink the whole of the contents. Now and then the dreadful thought came across me that he might perhaps murder me, or throw me overboard. I might be wronging the man; but I knew he had been a pirate, and was not likely to be very particular as to what he would do.

Again daylight departed, and when at length I fell asleep, I was dreaming of fountains and lakes and sparkling streams and draughts of crystal water. I awoke to find my mouth parched with thirst, and on lifting the bamboo, I discovered that every drop had been drained. I felt sure that unless we could fall in with land death must be our portion—at least, for my own part, I believed I could not go through a whole day without water. The sun had not been up long before I began to feel the suffering I had expected. I knew that drinking salt water was dangerous in the extreme. I saw, however, that Ali was continually chewing a little dried fish, and sometimes a few grains of rice, a handful of which had been in the boat. I followed his example, but found but little relief. Again and again I looked round in the hope of seeing land. At length I caught sight ahead of a long line of white breakers. I pointed them out to Ali, that we might avoid them, supposing that a reef existed in that direction. He stood up and examined them, and then altered the course of the boat a little. As we approached, I saw beyond the breakers a line of white sand. It was, I judged, a lately made coral island. We continued on till we got on the lee side of it, when we ran close into the rocks. It appeared, as far as I could judge, to be about a mile and a half in circumference, the shore so steep that a big ship might have run in alongside it. The whole was covered with fine white sand, without a vestige of vegetation. I was unwilling to land, though I thought it possible water might be obtained, for I had a dread that Ali might leave me there and go off by himself. He seemed to understand my suspicions, and jumping out, made the boat fast, and led the way over the sand. I saw that it was covered with a great variety of sea-birds, some of which rose immediately we advanced, and began shrieking and uttering loud cries as they hovered over our heads, disputing our advance. We had literally to defend ourselves with the boat-stretchers which we carried, and knocked over several of them while on the wing as they flew towards us. They were incited, we discovered, to attack us in defence of their young, numbers of which, from the little gaping nudity just out of the shell to well-fledged bantlings, covered the ground. There was also a great number of eggs, many of which were newly laid. Of these we got a large store, besides half filling the boat with the birds we had killed. In vain, however, we searched all the island round for water. Not a drop could we discover. Even the hollows in the rocks were dry. It was evident that no rain had fallen there for a long time. The blood of the birds, however, somewhat quenched our thirst. At first Ali would not touch it, but on seeing me take it, he at length overcame his scruples. I confess that when we returned to the boat I endeavoured to keep first, still feeling that he was very likely to leave me. I think, however, I wronged him there, as he made no attempt to get off without me.

Once more we were steering to the north. All day long I kept a bright look-out, in the hope of seeing some other island. Two days passed. Oh, how fearfully did I suffer from thirst during the last of them; I would have given everything I possessed for a draught of cold water. We were gliding on during the night, when it seemed to me as if suddenly a tall grove had sprung out of the water. I rubbed my eyes, and looked, and looked again. Yes; there could be no doubt of it; we were passing a palm-covered island. I awoke Ali, who had just before fallen asleep. To land at night was dangerous. However some risk must be run. We therefore continued close to the shore, in the hope of finding some sheltered bay into which we might run the boat. The dawn was just breaking, and at length, with the help of daylight, we discovered a place where we thought we could venture to land. We ran in on a soft white sand; but the sea following, almost filled the boat with water, and we had to jump out and haul her up to escape a second wave, which came rolling slowly in after the first. So eager were we to find water, that the instant we had hauled the boat up out of reach of the seas, we began running along the beach.

The island was a small one, with numerous palm and other trees growing on it. I eagerly looked out for the sago-palm, remembering that it was in a grove of one of these trees we had found water on our island. We searched and searched in vain. Already our tongues were clinging to the roofs of our mouths. The birds had soon grown putrid, so that many hours had passed since we had moistened our lips. I felt ready to drop, and Ali also was almost overcome. We eagerly chewed the leaves of trees, but they gave us no relief. Oh, how delightful would have been the sound of a bubbling fountain! No sago-trees, no sign of water could we discover. I found my knees shaking, my strength leaving me. At length I could no longer stand. I leant against the trunk of a tall tree, and gradually sank down to the ground. I began to dread that death would overtake me, and what a fearful death! I had read of such, but never supposed that I should realise it myself. Ali cast a look at me. He could do nothing to help me. He was going to desert me, I thought. My voice was failing. I tried to call him back, but I could no longer articulate, and a dreamy, half-conscious state of feeling came over me. “I shall thus sink calmly into death,” I thought. I tried to pray, I tried to collect my thoughts, but in vain. How long I thus continued I know not, when I heard a voice shouting. It was Ali’s. I opened my eyes, and saw that he was running towards a tall tree. At last I saw him ascend the trunk. It seemed wonderful how he could get up. Presently I heard something drop. It was a bunch of cocoa-nuts; another and another followed. I tried to crawl towards them, but had no strength to move. Ali descended the tree. He seized a cocoa-nut, broke it open, and drank the contents. Once more I tried to cry out. Then I saw him running towards me. Oh, how delicious was the draught which he poured down my throat! In a few seconds I felt like another being. My strength returned. I sat up and eagerly clutched another cocoa-nut which he handed me. In a wonderfully short time I felt perfectly recovered.

We hunted about, but could find very few more trees. We should soon, we knew, consume the young fruit. We remained, however, on the island all the day, and as we wandered along the beach, we came to some soft hot sand, in which we discovered a number of turtles’ eggs. We had now sufficient to support life, but I well knew that our provisions would not last long, and that we must once more put to sea. Ali also clearly understood this. We quickly got a light with pieces of bamboo, and cooked our eggs, and having loaded ourselves with as many cocoa-nuts as we could carry, set off to return to the boat. As we went along, the fear seized me that we had not hauled her up sufficiently, and that perhaps she had been washed away. I could scarcely refrain from setting off running, so eager was I to ascertain the truth. I soon, however, found that my strength was not sufficiently restored for active movement. On we went, till we had reached the beach where I thought we had left the boat. She was nowhere to be seen. I looked about anxiously. I was giving way to despair, when, casting my eyes along the sand, I observed that it had been undisturbed. There were no traces of our feet. I knew therefore that we could not have been at the spot. Ali pointed along the beach, and we proceeded some way, when at length I caught sight of a dark object in the distance. Yes, it was our boat; but already the water had reached her stern, and in another minute she would have floated away. We drew her up still further, and secured her by her painter to a stone high up the beach.

My suspicions about Ali had not been altogether removed, but still, the way he had treated me in bringing the cocoa-nuts when he might have left me to die, showed me that he could not have any sinister intentions. I therefore proposed that we should sleep on shore that night, and proceed to sea early the following morning. We accordingly built a hut high up on the dry sand, and made ourselves comfortable beds with leaves, on which we could stretch our limbs and rest at ease during the night. We first, however, lighted a large fire, though there was not much fear of any creatures disturbing us on that small island.

Next morning we made a further search for turtles’ eggs, and having found a good supply, we placed them and our cocoa-nuts on board the boat, and then launching her, once more put to sea, steering as before to the northward, where we hoped to find land with food and water on it. Our stock of sago-cake was getting low, but that mattered little, I thought, as without water I found it very difficult to masticate. On, on we sailed. I had miscalculated distances, for though, looking at the chart, as I frequently had done on board the Dugong, the sea did not appear of great width, yet when sailing across it in a small boat the matter was very different. For two dreary days we glided on over the calm sea, looking out for land, or for some passing vessel which might take us on board; but neither appeared. I recollected Macco’s wonderful voyage in his frail canoe, and felt that I ought not to despair. The Malay sat passive. What he was thinking of I could not tell. Occasionally he offered to take the helm when I grew weary, and I soon fell asleep. When I awoke, there he was sitting like a statue, scarcely moving limb or eye. On we sailed. The sun rose and sank again, and still we were in the midst of the circling horizon. Our stock of cocoa-nuts was getting low; indeed, though the juice is very refreshing for a draught, it cannot take the place of pure water. Our sago-cake was exhausted. We had but three eggs remaining. It might be many days more before we could reach another island, I feared, and if so, could we support existence till then? These thoughts were passing across my mind as the sun was reaching the horizon. I saw Ali bending forward and looking under the sail. He said not a word, however. I gazed in the same direction, but could see nothing. The sun sank beneath the water, and darkness came on. I had been at the helm for some time, when I found Ali taking it out of my hands, for I had dropped to sleep. I lay down, and in an instant was unconscious of all that was taking place.

When I awoke it was broad daylight. A dark shadow was passing across my face. I looked up, and saw that we were gliding under some tall mangrove bushes. I sprang up eagerly. We were entering the mouth of a river. Astern, the blue sea shone in the beams of the rising sun. On either side were dark trees. “Soon get water and food,” said Ali. On we glided. I felt my spirits and strength greatly restored, and returned thanks to Heaven for bringing us into so promising a region. We were soon amidst the most luxuriant vegetation. Tall trees rose up on either side of the river, with thick underwood, which here and there gave place to small patches of grass. From the banks we occasionally saw huge alligators gliding slowly off into the water, or watching us as we passed with their cruel-looking yellow eyes. Curiously shaped lizards crawled along the banks, or lay extended on the boughs of the trees, gazing at us, and occasionally puffing themselves up into extraordinary shapes. From either side also came strange sounds—the shrill call of pea-hens, the cooing of pigeons, high above all of which was the pertinacious chattering of monkeys, while parrots and other gaily-coloured birds flew from bough to bough, and gigantic butterflies with brilliant wings skimmed over the surface of the stream. The monkeys followed us as we proceeded, or else the banks must have been thickly inhabited with them; some throwing themselves frantically from bough to bough, coming close down to our heads, others uttering hoarse cries, as if to frighten us away from their neighbourhood. Oftentimes I could not help fancying that some natives were watching us, so human-like did the faces of the larger monkeys appear. Now and then we interrupted a little family enjoying themselves in a clear space at the base of a tree, the patriarch sitting calmly watching the proceedings of his progeny, while the mother was gambolling with her young one, or seeking food among the grass, or under the roots of a tree; and then she would come with her prize, and commence playing with her infant, and caressing him like any human mother, tumbling about perhaps in rather a strange fashion. As we came more in sight, the whole family would scamper off, a few remaining to the last, grinning fiercely at us, hooting and chattering hoarsely, and shaking the boughs in their indignation at our unwelcome appearance. Anxious as I was, I could not help being amused at these things; but Ali was utterly indifferent to them.

On we glided, till at a fresh turn of the river I saw rising above the bank some buildings on poles, extending a considerable way along it. The buildings we were approaching were raised eight or ten feet above the water on strong posts. There were wide platforms of bamboo before them, over part of which projected the roofs of the verandahs. Several ladders hung down from the platforms to enable the inhabitants to ascend from their boats. They were somewhat similar to those we had seen in Papua, but far more substantial, and built in a much more elegant style. The inhabitants, apparently, had only lately risen, and came out on the platforms as we approached. The men were dressed in waistcloths of blue cotton, hanging down behind, mostly bordered with red, blue, and white. Some had handkerchiefs of the same colour bound round their heads, and one or two were ornamented with gold lace. They wore also ear-rings of brass, and moon-shaped, with heavy necklaces of white and black beads. On their arms were numbers of rings made of brass or white shells, while over their shoulders hung their long black shiny hair, which set off to advantage their pure brown skin. Some of them held knife-headed spears in their hands, while to a belt round the waist hung a long slender knife and a pouch with materials for betel-chewing. One man, who seemed to be the chief, wore on his head a bunch of large gaily-coloured feathers secured by a circle round it. They were mostly pleasant-looking people, and seemed ready to welcome us as we approached. The women had far more covering than the men. Round the waist they wore coils of ratan, stained red, to which their petticoats were attached. Below it one whom we took to be a chief’s wife wore a girdle of small silver coins. Others had additional ornaments of brass-wire, but most of them wore a large number of brass rings round not only their arms, but their legs, from the knee to the ankle, while curiously shaped hats adorned with beads ornamented their heads. Altogether they were far superior in appearance to the savages I had expected to see in these regions, and I had little doubt that we had arrived at the mainland of Borneo, and that they were a tribe of Dyaks.

We made signs that we were very thirsty, pointing to our lips, and the chief, coming forward, beckoned us to ascend the ladder. This I did first, Ali following with not so much confidence behind me. He was at once perceived to be a Malay, and he must have known that his countrymen are apt to ill-treat the Dyaks, and consequently he could scarcely have expected to be received by them as a friend. From the looks of the people, however, I had no fears of them, especially when one of the girls, running off, brought back a large bamboo full of cool water. Oh, how delicious it was! the first which had passed my lips for many days. I handed it to Ali, whom they did not seem to treat so courteously as they did me. When I signified that I should be glad of more, instantly a fresh supply was brought me. The chief now addressed Ali, who, I found, fully understood their language, and he seemed to be giving an account of the cause which had brought us to their country. The chief appeared satisfied; and now giving orders to some of the women, a basket containing some pork and rice and some fine-looking bananas was brought to us. I felt no great inclination to eat the pork and rice, for my throat was hot and parched, but I got through a portion; and oh, how delicious were the bananas! No sooner had I got them into my mouth than they seemed to melt away. They were of the colour of the finest yellow butter, and of an exquisite flavour. I felt as I ate that I could never take enough of them. I saw in the open space behind the house a plantation of them, showing that they were carefully cultivated. The Dyaks showed me a corner of a room where I might rest, for they perceived that I was sleepy and weary, and I believe most of the men went out either to cultivate the ground or on a hunting expedition. What became of Ali I could not tell; but as, after a little time, notwithstanding his cool reception, he seemed to be at home with the people, I concluded he would take care of himself.

Chapter Thirty Four.

Walter’s adventures in Borneo.

My Dyak hosts seemed well-disposed towards me; yet, I confess, I was not altogether comfortable in their society. The first morning after my arrival, just as I left my sleeping-corner, I saw a large basket standing in the chief’s room. Supposing it to contain provisions, I looked into it, when, what was my horror to see it filled with a number of dried Imuran heads grinning horribly up at me! I turned away in disgust, when I saw the chief looking at me with a glance of triumph in his eye, just as a civilised person would have been pleased at exhibiting a collection of his orders of merit for gallantry in battle or sagacity in the council. They were trophies, I found, taken by the chief in his wars with neighbouring tribes. Probably it was the possession of these which had raised him to his position in his tribe.

Soon afterwards I saw a number of young men coming along. They were singing and shouting. I saw that one of them had a head, yet gory and fresh, on the top of a spear. A light brown girl, really a pretty creature, ran out to welcome him; and I afterwards discovered that she was his bride-elect, and that he had gone with his companions on a foray in order to obtain this human head, to make himself worthy of her affection. These people were, however, very gentle and mild in their manners to each other, and had I not witnessed this, and similar sights, I could scarcely have supposed they were the savages they have been described. A party soon afterwards assembled, apparently to go out on a hunting expedition. Each man had a wooden tube about five feet long. This was a blow-pipe, through which bamboo arrows are shot with great precision. The points are dipped in a subtle poison, which destroys birds and small animals almost instantaneously when struck with them. Some of the men, also, were armed with bows and arrows. The chief men carried swords about two feet in length, slightly curved, and broad at the end. They were admirably tempered, and the chief, to show me how sharp they were, cut through with a blow a small bar of iron, and then showed me the blade to prove that it was not in the least turned. The poison of their arrows was, I believe, extracted from the juice of a tree similar to the upas-tree of Java. It is called ippo.

I accompanied them on the hunting expedition, when they used generally the blow-pipe I have described. The instant a bird was struck, it dropped dead to the ground. I observed that they immediately cut round where it had been wounded, and all the birds thus killed were afterwards eaten without any bad effect.

Having completely recovered my strength, I was anxious to recommence our voyage, and told Ali of my wish. He, however, seemed in no hurry to go away; but signified that, if I would be content to wait a little longer, he would accompany me. I endeavoured to employ the time in obtaining some knowledge of the Dyak language, as also the habits and customs of the people. I found that at a little distance from this village another existed, inhabited by the same tribe, or at all events the people were on terms of friendship with each other. There was great wailing one day, and I suspected that a person of consequence, perhaps a chief, was very ill, or had died, in the other village. Finding some of the people going in that direction, I followed them. The path, however, was very difficult to walk in, as it was sunk a foot or so below the ground on either side, and was only broad enough for a man’s foot to tread in; the Dyaks walk in a peculiar manner, by placing one foot directly before the other, without in the slightest degree turning out their toes. I found on my arrival at the village that my suspicions were correct. The chief was not dead, but very ill, and as I saw him lying on his mat in an upper room, I perceived that he had not long to live. Had I known at the time more of the customs of the people, I should have been greatly alarmed for my own safety and that of Ali.

On my return with several people of our village, the chief made signs to me that he was going on an expedition. Supposing it to be for hunting, I gladly signified that I was ready to accompany him. Several large canoes, which I had not before seen, were now drawn out of a place of concealment a little up the stream. Our chief with about forty followers entered them, armed with their swords, bows and arrows, and blow-pipes. Not till we had got a little way down the river did I discover that they bore a more warlike appearance than would have been the case had they been simply going on a hunting expedition. What had become of Ali I could not tell, or I might have learned from him more about the matter. We started soon after daybreak, and pulled along the coast for a considerable distance, when we landed in a bay where apparently there were no inhabitants, as the thick jungle came close down to the water without a break on either side. Here the flotilla remained till the sun sank low, when we shoved off and continued as before along the coast. It was dark when we entered the mouth of another river, up which we proceeded, the men paddling carefully, and not a word being spoken. We kept close in with the bank, now and then touching on the long straggling roots of a mangrove-tree, then forcing our way through the entangled mass of underwood, out of which affrighted birds flew shrieking amid the darkness.

I had now but little doubt that we were on some marauding expedition. Now and then we stopped, apparently that our leader might listen to ascertain whether any enemy was near, when from the forest there came forth shrill whistles, chirrups, unearthly cries, drumming noises, such as make one of these Indian forests apparently more full of life during the night than when the sun sheds his beams over the scene. Now we glided away more towards the centre of the river, which was as smooth as polished glass, and reflected, wherever the trees left an opening, the millions of stars which sparkled in the clear sky overhead; while above us on either side rose the tall stems of the mighty trees, waving their sable plumes in the air; and often, as if some sprites were amusing themselves in letting off rockets, sparks of fire darted out in thick masses, now appearing in one spot, now in another amid the waving leaves. The sparks were produced by thousands and tens of thousands of fire-flies. Thus we made our way up the stream, now branching off in one direction now in another, till I could not possibly have discovered my way again to the ocean. At length we drew up under a thick shaded bank, when the chief and most of his followers landed, stepping noiselessly over the soft green sward as they made their way through the forest. One man only was left in each canoe. I also remained, having now stronger fears than ever that my companions were bent on evil. Not a sound was heard except those I have before described proceeding from the forest. Suddenly I saw a bright light burst forth amid the branches of the trees. Loud shrieks and cries rent the night air. My companions seemed highly excited, and could scarcely restrain themselves from leaping on shore and deserting the canoes. The cries increased. Shouts of triumph rose above them. For some minutes they continued. So fearful were the sounds that they made my heart sink within me, and gladly would I have escaped from them. Then all was silent. In a few minutes we heard steps coming through the forest. I had little doubt that some village had been attacked by my friends, and expected to see a number of prisoners brought to the canoes; but, instead, every man bore a round ball in his hand, so it seemed through the gloom; but when they stepped into the canoes, what was my horror to discover that each was a human head held by the hair. Shoving off their canoes, they began to paddle away down the stream up which we had come. Once more they were silent, as they had been when we approached the ill-fated village. I had now no doubt that they had set fire to it while the inhabitants were fast asleep, and then, as they rushed out to escape the flames, they had waylaid and cut off the heads of all they could catch hold of.

When daylight broke, we had already gained the mouth of the river. Each man who had been so fortunate as to kill an enemy, sat with a gory head by his side, and my horror was increased when I saw that several were those of women and children. I turned away sick at heart from the spectacle. The river opened out on one side into a wide lagoon, and as the mists of night rose, I saw at no great distance a tall bird with red plumage standing in the water seeking his prey. His body was comparatively small, but he had an enormous neck, and a bill a yard long, it seemed, and of immense size at the head. I knew him at once to be an adjutant bird—the chief of fishermen. Soon he began to move his head rapidly about, then he made some rapid strides into deep water, into which he plunged his long beak, and presently rose with a large fish held by it. The fish wriggled about as if attempting to escape, then by a sudden jerk he seemed to throw it into his mouth, down which it disappeared.

Again we were at sea, paddling along parallel with the shore. There was no longer a necessity for silence, and the Dyaks gave vent to their joy and satisfaction at the success of their headhunting with shouts and songs and peals of laughter. “It was no laughing matter to the once peaceful inhabitants of the village you have so ruthlessly destroyed,” I should have liked to have said, but as they would not have understood the sentiment, I remained silent, and I saw that they smiled whenever I turned away my eye with disgust as it chanced to fall upon their gory trophies. They met, on our return, with an enthusiastic welcome. Directly on landing they set off to the neighbouring village, probably to console the dying chief with the sight of the heads they had brought, to assure him that in his passage to the other world he would have no lack of retainers. They had been gone some time, and the house was almost deserted, when I saw Ali paddling up in our boat to the steps. He sprang up on the platform and came to me. “Bad people dese,” he said. “Dey cut off Ali’s head, dey cut off Walter’s head,” and he made a significant sign across his throat. “I know what do, ay, ay.”

I could not understand his purpose—indeed, he did not deign further to explain himself. He had left the boat at the steps. He made signs to me to get into her. I did so, and found that he had supplied her with a pair of oars and a number of bamboos of water, as well as a supply of rice and fish and other articles of food. He then made signs to me to row a little way down the river, and there to wait for him. I had got to a little distance, when I saw some one moving under the house, where a quantity of dry husks of rice and stalks of various sorts had been collected. I recognised Ali by his costume, different from that of the Dyaks. Presently I saw him making his way from under the house, and coming along the path near the spot where he had told me to meet him. Just then several Dyaks sprang out from the jungle; I saw the bright gleam of a sword, and the instant afterwards Ali’s body fell to the ground, and a Dyak waved his head in triumph in the air. Such might be my fate, I thought. A strong breeze was blowing. While the Dyaks were rejoicing round the head of the man it appeared to me they had so treacherously murdered, I saw a bright flame spring up from under the house. Presently it caught the dried bamboos which formed the flooring, and in a few seconds the whole building was in flames. As the greater number of the inhabitants were absent, there were not people enough to attempt to put it out. A few seemed to run into the building, but quickly retreated. I dared not return, warned by the fate of Ali, and suspecting that, should I fall into the Dyaks’ power, I should be treated in the same way. I therefore bent to my oars, and began to pull down the stream as fast as I could go. I might have hoisted my sail, but that, I thought, might attract the attention of the Dyaks. In the meantime the whole house was wrapped in flames, while the wind blew the light embers towards the neighbouring houses and trees. The rice plantation caught fire, and soon I saw the fire extending on either side down the banks of the river. It seemed as if a hundred torches had been applied to the jungle at the same moment, but it was not so. The spark which Ali had kindled was the origin of the whole. Fearful was the rapidity with which the flames had spread among the dry brushwood. For months probably not a drop of rain had fallen there. Now the fire worked its way amid the leaves and dry grass, now the flames mounted the trees, wrapping round the tall palms, the leaves being like touch-paper; and no sooner was one ignited, than the next caught fire. Thus both banks of the river soon bore the appearance of being covered with gigantic torches flaming and waving in the air. The sun had set by this time, the flames looking more fierce and lurid amid the darkness of night. Away the fire leaped from tree to tree, licking up with its fiery tongue every object it encountered. I pulled for my life, for the fierce flames blew across from side to side of the stream, making a fiery arch overhead, while the boughs as they burnt through came crashing down in masses of fire astern of me.

Fast as I rowed, the flames came faster, and it seemed impossible that I should escape. A fearful death, I thought, was about to overtake me. It was like some terrible dream. I dreaded lest the boat might ground on some bank, or run against the wide-spreading roots of the mangrove-trees. But on, on; I felt that my only prospect of escape was to persevere. I had often to turn my head round, to try and discover the branch of the stream up which we had come. I saw one at length on my left, and pulled down it, having strong doubts, however, whether it was the right one. At length I appeared to have got to a distance from the flames, which I could see however, burning up as brightly as before amid the trunks of the trees which lined the banks of that part of the stream through which I was now making my way. My arms began to ache, perspiration dropped from my brows, but still I must go on. I was by this time getting out of sight of the flames, but I could still see the glare of the burning forest rising above the topmost boughs of the trees. Finding myself in a broad stream, I began at length to breathe more freely. The wind came down it. I guessed by that that it led directly to the sea. For the first time I dared to cease rowing, and stepping the mast, hoisted my sail. Strange sounds came out of the woods on either side, and sometimes I fancied I could hear the shouts of the Dyaks pursuing me, to revenge on my head the destruction of their village. I knew that an account of the catastrophe would soon have been conveyed to the tribe whose chief lay dead, and I thought it probable that they would come in pursuit of me and cut me off, should it be known that I had escaped. I glided on, recovering my strength with the rest I was thus able to afford myself. And now the river opened out wider than before, and I saw through the gloom the calm sea spread out before me. There was not a ripple on the bar. The current ran smoothly, and my boat, carried on its tide, glided out into the ocean.

I was now as eager to escape from the land as I before had been to reach it, but in what direction to steer my course I knew not. On I sailed. The boat now began to rise and fall on the swell of the open ocean. She was well provisioned for many days, and I trusted by economising my food to make it last till I should reach some land inhabited by civilised people. As far as I could judge, therefore, I steered to the south-west. Encouraged by Macco’s preservation under somewhat similar circumstances, I hoped either to be picked up as he was, or to reach the shore I was in search of in safety. When day broke I was already at some distance from the land—too far, I hoped, to be seen by any of the Dyaks who might be in search of me. I had, however, miscalculated my strength, for having been pulling for so long during the night, I soon began to feel excessively fatigued, and longed to lie down and sleep. At length I could no longer resist the temptation, and lowering my sail and mast, I stretched myself in the bottom of the boat.

Chapter Thirty Five.

Walter’s adventures continued.

How long I had slept I could not tell, when a voice reached my ear. My heart bounded. Could it be some one calling me from a ship! I tried to rise, but felt unable. It was still night. Presently I saw rising high above me, as I thought, the lofty masts and sails of a large ship. On she came, so fast it seemed that a rope thrown from her could reach me. At length I tried to shout. I lifted up my hands, for I thought they would not fail to heave a rope, but she glided by. I could see no one on her deck, but I thought I could count the ports. She must be a ship of war, I fancied. On she went. I turned my aching eyes towards her as she glided away from me; and I thought a shout of mocking laughter came over the water towards me in answer to my appeals for help. Again and again I tried to cry out; but it seemed as if my voice would not leave my chest. I lay still in the bottom of the boat, with a feeling of hopeless despair creeping over me. Then again I closed my eyes; and when I once more opened them, the sun was shining across the water, just risen from his ocean bed. There was not a breath of air blowing across the water. No land was in sight. Here and there a flying-fish rose out of the mirror-like deep, skimming across it, again to disappear. Once more I rose, and was about to seize the oars, when I bethought me that it would be labour in vain. In what direction should I pull? Hunger reminded me of the provisions Ali had put on board the boat. I took a draught of water and ate some food. It restored my strength; and I now began to suspect that the ship I had seen had been but a phantom of the brain, and that I had been dreaming all the time. I sat at the helm, longing for a breeze. Then I stepped my mast and hoisted my sail, hoping that it might come, and I should be ready for it.

I remembered that I had not offered up my petitions to Heaven. I knelt down in the boat and prayed fervently. Once more I rose, refreshed in body and mind. I began to reflect that He who had hitherto guarded me from so many dangers would guard me still. The thought restored confidence to my heart. Presently I saw a light ripple on the water. It disappeared; but again, at a little distance, another cat’s-paw sped over the surface. I hoped it might be the forerunner of a breeze. Soon my sail began to bulge out. A gentle breeze blew me along. Now the boat was running rapidly along through the smooth water. I felt sure, should I keep to the south or south-west, that I should fall in at last with land. To regain the island I knew was almost a vain hope, and I might lose too much valuable time in making the attempt. Hour after hour I sat at the helm, gliding over the water. Again I thought of poor Macco. How much better off I was than he had been. I had a supply of provisions and water, and was in a well-built boat, and knew that I must in a short time, if I continued on my course, inevitably fall in with land; whereas he had been on the wide Indian Ocean, and might have sailed on for many hundred miles without meeting it. Thus I continued all day long, till night again came down over the world of waters. For many hours during the night I kept awake. At length I began to feel my head drop on my breast. Each time I did so I raised myself with an effort; but I found I could only keep awake for a short time, when again that terrible drowsiness came over me. It arose, I knew, from weakness, and the hot sun to which I had been exposed all day. Still I steered on before the wind. I did my utmost to keep awake till daylight should again appear. I thought my eyes were open, and that I was steering as before. Suddenly I felt a violent shock; and starting up, I found the seas washing round me, and tall trees rising up a short distance ahead. The boat had run upon a sandy beach. Another sea came rolling in, and sent the boat broadside on to the beach, throwing me out. With difficulty I crawled up over the sand. The sheet had been made fast; and what was my dismay to see the boat’s head going round, and before I could rush into the water to seize her, she had already receded from the shore. I was on the point of rushing into the water to swim after her, when, overcome by weakness, I sank on the sand; and I well knew that had I made the attempt I should probably have lost my life. I endeavoured to collect my scattered thoughts; but rudely roused from sleep, I had difficulty in reflecting where I could be. At length, however, I began to consider that I could not possibly have reached Java, or any of the large islands in a line with it; and thought I must be on some smaller island; but whether inhabited or not I could not tell, or whether or not I could there find the means of supporting life. How anxiously I watched my boat, hoping that perhaps some other sea might put her head round, and that once more she might return to the shore. The breeze had freshened, and she quickly glided away. In a short time I could no longer distinguish her amidst the gloom of night.

I sat down on the beach, endeavouring to consider what I should do. I saw, at a short distance behind me, a thick wood; while on either side dark rocks ran into the sea. “I might have been driven against those,” I reflected; “and had I been so, in all probability the boat would have been dashed to pieces, and I should have been drowned. Have I not reason then to be thankful that I have been preserved? No, I should be wrong to despair. I will yet hope that I may find means of preserving my life.” With this thought I lay on the sand to wait till the light of day would enable me to explore the island and search for the means of supporting existence. I had no food, no weapon of defence; but on feeling in my pocket I was thankful to find I had my knife. Oh, of how much value was that little clasp-knife then to me! At first the noise of the surf had prevented me from hearing any other sound; but, as my ears got accustomed to it, I could distinguish the usual noises of an Eastern jungle—the cries of the night-birds, and the chattering and moaning of the monkeys. They gave me assurance that I should be able to support existence, for I knew that where they were food would be found. My mind thus set somewhat more at rest, I dropped to sleep.

The bright rays of the sun shining in my eyes awoke me; and rising to my feet I found that I was on a green, smiling island, with rocks and hills scattered here and there towards the centre; while a thick belt of palms, the ever-present pandanus, and numerous other trees, surrounded it. My first thought was to search for water. The experience I had gained when with Macco on our island was now of the greatest assistance to me. Had I been cast alone upon such a spot I might have perished; but now I knew well where to search for the sign of water. I had not gone far when I saw between the trees a grove of bamboo. I soon cut down a stout piece, the point of which I sharpened; and thus it served me as a staff and a weapon of defence. I also made a spade, such as Macco had manufactured; and before long I came to a hollow under some trees where the ground appeared soft. I eagerly set to work to dig, and after getting down to the depth of three or four feet, my satisfaction was great to see water springing up. I had expected to be compelled to dig much deeper. A piece of bamboo served me as a cup, and allowing the water to settle, I was enabled to obtain a delicious draught. Thus one of my chief causes of apprehension was dissipated.

Returning along the beach, I walked along looking up for some cocoa-nut trees. The shore, however, was lined with rocks, and it did not occur to me that at such a spot they were not likely to be found. I then remembered that it was only on low beaches, where the nuts had been washed ashore, that I had ever seen the trees growing. I therefore climbed to the top of the highest rock in the neighbourhood, and looked along the shore, in the hope of discovering some open beach. I saw one at some distance, and eagerly made towards it. I was not disappointed, for no sooner had I reached it than I saw in the centre a grove of cocoa-nut palms. But how should I be able to climb so tall a tree, weak and unnerved as I was! I was approaching the nearest tree, eagerly casting up my eyes towards the tempting fruit, which hung down in clusters, when I heard a loud hammering sound; and there I saw on the ground a huge crab, such as I had before met with in Amboyna, busily employed in breaking the shell. If I could kill him, I could secure both meat and vegetable at the same time. I had got close to him before he heard me approach, when he began to sidle off at a great rate. Seizing the cocoa-nut which he had just broken, I ran after him. Brought to bay, he lifted up his huge claw; but I darted my spear through the joint and fixed him in the sand. As I did so I dashed the cocoa-nut with all my might on his back. It bounded off; but I seized it again, and once more struck him a blow which effectually prevented him from making further resistance.

I had now an ample supply of food for a hearty meal. I was at no loss to light a fire; and collecting a supply of sticks and leaves, I struck a light with the two pieces of bamboo as Macco had done, and soon had the crab roasting before the fire; while I satisfied the cravings of hunger with a draught from the cocoa-nut and a portion of the fruit. I now hunted about under the trees and found several other cocoa-nuts which had fallen, and though not equal to those which were less ripe, they were sufficient to satisfy hunger and support life. Having thus obtained the means of subsistence, I bethought me that the next wisest thing to do would be to build a hut. I had been greatly tormented by mosquitoes and sandflies, and I thought by going a little way into the interior I might avoid them. On searching I discovered a large rock within which was a cave. Here I thought I might find shelter, and at the same time light a fire, the smoke of which might keep off my tormentors. As I had but little clothing, and found the night, after the heat of the day, chilly—though, probably, in England it would have been considered intensely hot—I determined to build a front to my cave, so that I might keep out the night air, and at the same time any unwelcome intruders. The cave was in a peculiarly sheltered spot; and, indeed, had I been in search of such a retreat, I do not think I should have discovered it.

I cut down a number of bamboos, and these I placed close together in front of the cave, leaving only a narrow opening through which I could pass. I strengthened the interior by cross pieces, thus leaving only room to creep under. The door I also formed of bamboo, which I could shut closely. I thus hoped that I might not only keep out any large animals, but snakes or reptiles, which might be inclined to get in. I made a torch of dry wood, with which I surveyed my cave, carefully examining every hole and crevice. I discovered several bats, which I soon put to flight. Had I been very hungry, I should probably have killed them for food; but while I saw a prospect of obtaining cocoa-nuts and crabs, I was not reduced to such an extremity.

I little thought at the time of what importance this hiding-place would be to me. It took me some time to scrape out the dirt on the ground, and it was almost dark before I had finished the operation. I managed, however, to collect some leaves and branches with which to form my bed. I had only time to eat a piece of cocoa-nut and crab for supper before darkness came on. I then lighted my torch, and with the smoke managed to drive away all the mosquitoes, and then shut to my door. Closely, however, as I had placed the bamboos, the creatures quickly came back again; and I had to start up and strike a light and make some more smoke, in order to get rid of them before I could again go to sleep. However, I got tired of this operation, and at length dropped off to sleep, allowing them to sting me at their will.

I soon found that I ought to have been grateful for having been cast on this island. Scarcely had I left my abode the next morning, when I came upon a tree with enormous leaves, many of them a foot wide and a foot and a half long. From it hung a fruit in the form of a melon, attached by its stem directly to the trunk or limbs. I recognised it at once as the valuable bread-fruit tree. Here was a supply of wholesome food for me as long as I might have, I hoped, to live on the island. To get at the fruit, however, was the difficulty, though it was at no great height. I bethought me, therefore, that I would make a ladder of bamboo. I should have liked to have had some fruit for breakfast, but as it would take some time to make my ladder securely, I had to content myself with the remainder of the crab and some more cocoa-nut, and a draught of water from my well. I had, indeed, to go towards the well for the purpose of obtaining a bamboo. To secure the rounds, I cut a quantity of fine ratan, or some of the smaller creeper, which answered the purpose pretty well; and to prevent them slipping, I secured from the top to the bottom a piece of ratan twined round them on both sides. My ladder, though not very sightly, was, I hoped, thus made secure. On reaching the bread-fruit, I was delighted to find that it was scarcely yet mature,—the best state, indeed, for eating. I eagerly cut down a couple of the melon-like fruit and descended with them to the ground.

As my breakfast had not been substantial, I lost no time in cutting up a bread-fruit into slices, which I toasted before the fire, pouring over it a little cocoa-nut milk.

I must not take up too much space in describing the various events of my life on the island. I spent most of the clay on the beach, sometimes clambering up to the top of a high rock, whence I could gain an extensive view of the sea, in the hope of seeing some vessel passing, and being able to attract her attention.

I may say at once that I had an abundance of food, both crabs and shell-fish, and various fruits, so that I was kept in good health. My clothes, however, had already been much worn, and were now torn almost into tatters by my excursions through the woods.

I had just climbed up a rock, when I saw a fleet of native vessels approaching the island. I examined them anxiously, and was soon convinced that they were either the same pirates who had paid us a visit at my uncle’s island, or gentry of a similar character. I could not help feeling considerable alarm for my own safety. What was I to do? If they touched on the island, should I be able to conceal myself from them? As I had walked about the woods the possibility of such a contingency had occurred to me. At first I thought of hiding away in my cave; but the marks of the fire outside, and the trees I had cut down, should they find their way to it, might betray me. Still I knew that, even should they land, they were not likely to go far into the interior. Near the top of the rock was a hollow in which I might lie completely concealed, with the assistance of a few boughs, which I might place across it. Here, therefore, I determined to take up my post, should I see that they intended landing. As they came nearer I left the beach and watched them from the underwood. I was soon convinced that they were pirates, probably on some marauding expedition, and that they were about to land. I hoped that they would not remain long, as probably they were coming ashore to repair some of their vessels, or to obtain cocoa-nuts or water. At length I saw the vessels entering the bay. Some anchored, while others ran on to the beach, when their crews, leaping out, carried tackles and ropes to the nearest trees, and began to haul them up. My idea as to their object, therefore, was correct. I retired as soon as they had done this, making my way as silently as possible towards the spot I had fixed on. I had, as far as I was able, obliterated the marks of my fire by covering them with leaves and broken branches. I had also concealed the mouth of my cave with branches, in a way which I thought looked so natural, that no one would attempt to enter. I then climbed up to my proposed hiding-place, carrying some other branches which I had cut down for the purpose I contemplated. I felt somewhat like a bird in a nest, for I was completely concealed from the view of those below; at the same time I could look out between the branches and see what was going forward. I had taken the precaution of carrying up some provisions with me, so that I might not suffer from hunger.

I had remained here for some time, when I heard the Malays shouting to each other in the distance. What the cause of their doing so was I could not guess, as they are not generally addicted to making a noise. The sounds now grew nearer; then once more they appeared to recede. Sometimes I fancied that they had discovered some sign of a person being on the island, and were in search of me. Still, my concealment was so complete that I hoped to escape discovery. Presently I heard a noise as if some human being or beast was breaking through the underwood, and looking out I caught sight of a man running. I looked again and again. Could my eyes deceive me? If that was not Macco, it was a person wonderfully like him. And yet I felt sure I had seen Macco killed on the shore of Papua; but yet he was so unlike a Malay or a Dyak, or any of the inhabitants of New Guinea, that I could scarcely suppose he could be any other than Macco. It seemed to me that he was looking about for some place to conceal himself. I could resist the temptation no longer, but shouted out, “Macco, Macco!” He stopped and looked up with a glance of astonishment. “Macco, is it you?” I again cried out.

“Yes, yes; oh, de joy!” he answered.

I now showed myself, and scrambling down from my aerie, I was in a few minutes by his side, taking his hands and looking into his face.

“Yes, yes; you Massa Walter!” he could only exclaim, his feelings overcoming him.

“But why are you thus running through the wood?” I asked.

“I run from de pirates. Dey make me slave,” he answered.

“Then climb up here with me; there is room for both of us,” I said. “No time to be lost, or your pursuers may overtake you.”

He was quickly stowed away in the hollow, across which I drew the bushes as before. We had not been there long when again the voices of the Malays sounded nearer. They were making their way through the jungle, evidently determined to retake their captive. After a time they drew near the rock. They seemed to be passing close to the spot where we lay hid; but so well had I concealed the opening to the cavern, that though they went completely round the rock, they did not discover it. Macco trembled in every limb at the thought of being retaken. I whispered to him to be calm, for I was in hopes we should escape. The shadows of the trees began to grow longer and longer, and soon we had the satisfaction of seeing the shades of evening draw over the island. We were safe, I now knew, till the following morning, for I was sure the Malays would not wander about during the night in a strange place. I therefore invited Macco to descend, that we might rest more comfortably in my cavern. I here had, as I before said, a supply of food, to which Macco did justice, for I found that he had been a long time without a meal.

His history was a brief one. He had remained for some time as a slave among the Papuans, and had then been sold by them to some traders, who were carrying him off, when they were attacked by the pirates, into whose possession he thus fell. They had compelled him to work at the oars in their boats. The labour, he said, he did not so much mind, as the fearful scenes of cruelty which he was obliged to witness. He therefore determined to make his escape on the first opportunity. Having lived so well on our island, he determined to hide himself on landing on this one, preferring to live a life of solitude to the society of heathen savages. “Now, Massa Walter, I no care. Oliver always say One above look after poor people who lub him, and now I know he does.” We slept soundly in our cave, and at the earliest dawn clambered back into our aerie.

I had been longing for a companion from the time I landed, and often and often thought how far better would have been my lot if I had had Oliver or Macco with me; and here the latter had been sent to bear me company. We spent the day in our hiding-place, for we were afraid that the Malays might renew their search for Macco; and we could still hear them in the far distance, their voices reaching to the top of the rock over the heads of the trees. I was proposing to descend to try and see what they were about, when again we heard their voices drawing near. We could not help feeling anxious, lest on this occasion they might discover us.

“But we must hope for the best,” I said half aloud.

“Yes, Massa Walter, hope for de best,” repeated Macco; “and if it no come, still hope for de best. All best when we put trust in God.”

Once more we caught sight of the Malays forcing their way through the forest, and calling to each other, evidently again searching for Macco. Several times I thought they were coming close up to the mouth of the cavern, and once a party of them stopped directly under where we were concealed. I held my breath with anxiety, and my heart once more bounded as if released from a weight when I saw them take their way through the forest.

We again passed the night in my abode, and afterwards climbed up to the top of the rock. No sounds reached our ears. “Now I must go and see if they are really getting away,” I said, “but you stay here. I know my way through the forest, and one person is less likely to be discovered than two.” I accordingly set out towards the beach, taking my bamboo spear, which I trailed after me. Some of the pirate vessels had their sails hoisted, and were gliding out of the bay. The crews of the others were just shoving them off into deep water. I watched them eagerly, and at length they all went on board. Still I thought it possible that at the last moment some might land, and make another search for Macco. I therefore waited till they were all well out of the bay, and then hurried back with the satisfactory intelligence to my dark-skinned friend. “We have reason to be t’ankful, Massa Walter,” he observed. “Dose great cut-t’roats!” I was now much happier than before, having Macco as my companion; at the same time, I was very anxious to let my dear Emily know that I was safe. I told Macco of my anxiety.

“Why, then, we not build canoe?” he said. “It take time, but it can be done.”

“But I have only my knife to do it with,” I said.

“But I have knife too,” he said, drawing out a longish weapon from his belt.

Still I thought with such weapons our object could not be attained. Two days after that, as I was walking on the beach, I saw something sticking up in the sand. I was going to pass it carelessly, when I thought it was a piece of wrought wood. I went towards it, when great was my astonishment, and greater still my satisfaction, to find that it was a Malay axe, which had been left by the pirates in the sand. I called to Macco, who was at a little distance. “Dere, dere!” he exclaimed. “Now no difficulty. I use dat well, and build boat.” At first I proposed making a dug-out, but Macco said he had often assisted in boat-building, and that a plank boat would be far superior.

“But how are we to get the planks?”

“Oh,” he said, “I split some of de trees, and work dem down.”

“But that would take so very long,” I observed.

“Neber mind, Massa Walter. Long time come to end, and work done.”

His courage raised my spirits, and I now determined to set heartily to work in carrying out our proposed undertaking. Several days passed away, and some progress had been made. Macco had already cut down a tree, and formed some wedges to split it up with, when one morning, while he was at his work, I agreed to go down to the beach to look for some shell-fish or crabs as a variety to our food. No sooner did I reach it than my eye caught sight of a white sail shining in the morning sun. I rubbed my eyes. I could not be mistaken. No; there was a European vessel, I was sure of it, with a single mast. Could she be the cutter which my friends had proposed building? Were they on their homeward voyage, or were they coming to look for me? Perhaps, after all, the island where I now was might be at no great distance from theirs. Perhaps they were sailing away, having given me up in despair. I could not move from the spot, but kept gazing and gazing at the sail to ascertain whether it was approaching. Yes, yes; I was sure it was. On it came. The breeze freshening, the seas rolled in on the beach. Nearer and nearer drew the cutter. I ran down to the water, and waved my hands and shouted. They could not have heard me, but yet they came in directly towards where I was standing. Presently I saw the sails brailed up, and now a boat, with several people in her, put off from the vessel. They approached. Mr Hooker was in the stern. The boat’s head was turned round, so as to allow her to drop in through the surf. I rushed in towards her, and burst into tears as I shook my kind friend’s hand, and helped him to spring on shore.

“My dear boy, you are safe! We had given up almost all hope of finding you, when we picked up your boat!” he exclaimed.

Great was my astonishment to find that the boat was my own craft which had brought me to the island.

“Are they all well?” I asked, looking eagerly towards the vessel. “Is Emily well, and Grace, and Oliver?”

“Yes, yes,” he answered; “all are well. We left them at the island; but there is no time to be lost. The weather looks threatening, Mr Thudicumb says, and the sooner you are away from this the better. Step in now. I suppose there is nothing to detain you?”

“No, but I have a friend,” I answered; and told them how Macco had escaped from the pirates.

Begging them to wait, I ran back to where I had left him at work.

“Well den,” he said, “we leab de boat for some oder person to build. I bery glad to see Potto Jumbo and my old friends.”

I ran back to the boat, Macco following me. We were soon on board, and pulling to the cutter. All sail was then made for Sedgwick Island; for so we resolved to call it. The weather, however, got worse and worse, but still Mr Thudicumb was very anxious to enter Hope Harbour; and in spite of the threatening sky and strong wind and increasing sea, we continued our course towards it. The loss of the vessel, and the merciful way in which our lives were preserved, has already been detailed by Emily.

Chapter Thirty Six.

An eruption of the burning mountain.

The mountain had been quiet for some days. Our apprehensions of an eruption had passed away. We had succeeded in hauling the Hope on shore; and Mr Thudicumb was of opinion that we should be unable to repair her, though it might take some time to enable us to do so sufficiently to prosecute our voyage to Singapore. We were all in good spirits, as we trusted that after so many misadventures we should be able to succeed. The Frau and the girls had been busily employed in preparing a fresh supply of provisions, while sago, rice, and maize, and sugar-cane in abundance, had been brought from the plantation. My uncle and I had been out shooting, and had killed a couple of deer, three hogs, and a number of wood-pigeons and other birds. We had thus a good supply of meat.

We had all retired to rest, and were in the expectation in a few days of getting the Hope ready for launching. Suddenly we were awaked by my uncle’s voice shouting out, “Up! up! Sleepers, awake! Put on your clothes, and endeavour to retain your presence of mind.” In an instant I was wide-awake, and knew by the tone of his voice that something serious had happened; indeed, the bright glare against the thick foliage of the trees in front of my window would have told me so. Oliver and I dressed rapidly, and ran to the room occupied by the Frau and the young ladies.

“What is it? what is it?” I heard the Frau exclaiming.

“Quick, quick,” I answered; “put on your clothes, and take whatever you have of most value.”

They were already dressed, and now came to the door with looks of terror in their countenances.

“We shall have time to save our lives, I trust, if we do not delay,” said my uncle, who now appeared in the chief room.

Here we all collected. Each man bore on his shoulders as much provision as he could carry, done up in bags, already prepared for the purpose. “On,” cried my uncle. “Mr Thudicumb and Tarbox desire to bring up the rear; I will lead the way.” We hurried down the steps, and began our march toward Hope Harbour. The mountain was throwing up sheets of flame, amid which appeared huge masses of rock and stones, while over our heads came down a shower of light ashes. Already a fringe of flame surrounded the mountain. It was the jungle which had caught fire, and was blazing furiously. The bright glare of the flames was reflected on the trees on one hand, making the night as bright as day. My uncle had set at liberty his poor animals. “They must seek their own safety,” he observed; “and their instincts may guide them to the least dangerous spot.” Mr Hooker insisted upon taking Emily’s arm, I supported Grace, and Roger Trew begged the Frau to let him help her. Macco walked with Oliver, while Potto Jumbo ran to the front to assist my uncle in clearing the way. We hastened forward as fast as we could move, the poor Frau panting with the unusual exertion she was compelled to make. The very heavens seemed on fire. The earth shook. The wild beasts in the forests roared and howled. The birds uttered strange cries of terror, and flew here and there. At length we reached the bamboo bridge. At such a moment it seemed a fragile structure to cross. Not a moment was to be lost, however, for already the fire seemed rushing out towards us, the trees crackling and hissing as the flames caught them. Terror-stricken animals rushed past us, heeding us not. My uncle, Mr Hooker, and the Frau, with their companions, had crossed, and Grace and I were on the bridge. It seemed to be shaken violently, and as I looked up towards the mountain, I saw a mass of liquid fire rushing down the sides, and apparently wending its way towards us. I had nearly gained the further end of the bridge, when another violent shock occurred, and the frail structure fell into the water. With difficulty could I haul my companion up the bank. But where were Oliver and the other three men? They too saw the stream of fire rushing towards them. I trembled lest we should be separated, or they might be overwhelmed in the destruction we were endeavouring to escape. Macco cried out to Oliver, “Come on! come on!” and taking his arm, he rushed down the bank and plunged into the stream, from which a vapour was ascending, as if it was already heated by the fire above. I could not desert Grace, or I would have hurried back to assist them; but they needed it not, for the next instant Macco and Oliver landed, Mr Thudicumb and Tarbox were already in the water, and the other two were stretching out their hands to help them. I felt greatly relieved when I saw them all landed.

But even now our danger was fearful. On came the fire, on came the stream of lava. We had still a long way to go, it seemed. The rest of the party, not knowing what had occurred, had already got to some distance. We rushed after them at increased speed. Poor Grace could scarcely support herself, but I helped her along. At length we overtook our friends. “On, on!” cried Mr Sedgwick, every now and then turning back and pointing towards the beach, much as an officer might encourage a forlorn hope, only we were flying from danger instead of running into it. The fire seemed scarcely a hundred yards from us, and already we felt the heat of the advancing conflagration. At length the bay opened out before us, but the fire was by this time close on one hand, and the flames were curling up some tall palms which we the instant before had passed. Crash followed crash as the trees sank before the devouring element. Already it had gained the edge of the path and ignited the wood on the opposite side. We had to pass under an arch of fire. I entreated Oliver to keep close behind us. He and Macco sprang forward. At that moment there came a crash, and a tall tree fell directly behind them, cutting off the mate and boatswain. It was no time to stop, however. I felt this for my companion’s sake, and I know not, even if I had been alone, that I should have ventured to turn back to help them.

I feared that our two friends had been lost. Without them, how could we expect safely to navigate our frail raft? We had got some way, almost clear of the wood, when I heard shouts, and turning my head, greatly to my relief I saw both Mr Thudicumb and Tarbox leaping over the burning trunk, their clothes already on fire. They were striking out the flames, however, and rushing on. “On! on!” I heard Tarbox shouting out, and his voice seemed as strong and cheery as ever. In a few seconds they overtook us, and we altogether rushed frantically out of the burning forest. A minute later none of us could have passed. We hurried down to the beach. “On board the raft! on board the raft!” shouted my uncle, “for the lava may rush down from the mountain even here.”

The raft was moored securely in the harbour, and, since I had seen it, had been greatly enlarged and improved. Potto Jumbo and Roger Trew rushed into the water, and cutting—the cable, towed it ashore. The provisions meantime were carried from the house where they had been stored, and those we had brought with us were put on board. We all now hastened on to the raft. The masts, and spars, and oars, and all the other things which had been prepared were also placed on it. “Now, shove off!” cried my uncle, “and Heaven protect us! Mr Thudicumb, we beg you to take charge of the raft. My duty is over.” Merlin was the last of our party who leaped on board. With long poles, which had been got ready for the purpose, we shoved off. Not a moment too soon; for already the lava which had overflowed the stream was making its way towards the harbour, while the showers of dust increased, thickly covering the raft.

I cast an affectionate look at the Hope. She had been the means of rescuing me from my solitary island, and restoring me to my sister and friends. In a few minutes, she would probably be a mass of cinders. As soon as we were clear of the harbour, we got out our oars and paddles, and urged the raft away from the island. It was nearly calm. The heat was drawing the air towards the mountain, thus creating a contrary breeze to what we expected to find, or wished for. The scene which took place on our own island when Macco and I were carried from it, was vividly recalled to my mind. There was the mountain blazing away, with a vast sea of flame surging at its base, spreading here and there with fearful rapidity, while the showers of ashes came every instant thicker and thicker. Three streams of lava were descending from the sides of the mountain, sweeping away in one instant the tall trees against which it forced its course as if they had been willow wands. Even now it seemed as if destruction might overtake us. We urged on the raft with all the energy of despair. Mr Thudicumb steered, the rest of us worked the oars. The Frau and the two girls were seated in the centre, surrounded by the lockers which contained our provisions. While the water was smooth, there was no danger, but we could not help seeing that, exposed to a heavy sea, there would be great risk of our being washed off it.

We soon had reason to be thankful that we had escaped from the island, for the fire was every instant seen to be extending on both sides, while the eruption became more furious than ever. Suddenly a loud roar was heard coming over the water, and a vast rent was made in the side of the mountain. It seemed like the work of magic. The whole outline was in an instant changed. The conical top was rolling down, while in other places huge mounds were seen to be forced up as it were out of the earth. The glare of the conflagration reached us even at the distance we were from the island. I had been watching Emily and Grace, and though their countenances exhibited anxiety, there was no senseless terror perceptible. The Frau certainly did show alarm, and every now and then hid her face when the mountain sent forth fresh volumes of flame, or continued roars were heard as vast fragments of rock were hurled up into the air, and came crashing down on the earth, new openings being made in the side of the mountain.

“There is a breeze from the eastward,” I heard Mr Thudicumb exclaim. “Hoist the sails, lads!”

The masts had already been stepped. We hoisted our two lugsails, with a small jib on the bowsprit, which had been rigged ahead, and the raft feeling its effects, glided over the surface.

“We may reach some part of Java, even if we cannot get as far as Singapore,” observed Mr Thudicumb. “It would be a long voyage in such a craft as this; but if the weather holds fair, and our provisions last out, I see no reason why we should not accomplish it. We shall have the sun soon, and that will help us to steer the right course when we lose sight of the island.”

Streaks of bright light were now appearing in the east, and presently the whole sky was overspread with a ruddy glow, which increased in intensity near the horizon, till the sun, a vast globe of fire, rose above the waters, and quickly shot upwards in the sky. Still we were not clear altogether of the cinders which fell in light showers upon our heads, but we had lost all dread of being overwhelmed by any heavier substance, though we could see that many huge stones and rocks were falling into the water astern of us. The very island itself was torn and rent by the various subterranean powers working away beneath it, and it seemed probable, from what was taking place, that the whole would ere long be submerged by the ocean. How thankful we were when at length, the breeze freshening, we were carried to a distance from the awful spot.

“Should we not return thanks to Him who has preserved us?” said Oliver at length in a quiet tone to Mr Hooker.

“Certainly we should, my boy,” was the answer; and together we knelt down on the raft, Mr Thudicumb still steering, and offered up our thanks to him who rules the winds and seas and all the powers of the earth.

With a better appetite than might have been expected, and with cheerful spirits, we went to breakfast. No distinction was made between the ladies and gentlemen and the men. All shared alike. We had an oil lamp, with which we could boil our tea, and our other provisions we were compelled to eat cold. Few of them indeed required cooking.

Day after day we glided on, still favoured by fine weather. The little tent we had brought sheltered the Frau and her charges. Those who had been on watch also were not sorry in the day-time to creep into it and go to sleep. Thus we all obtained sufficient rest, and those alone who have been exposed as we were, can understand how sweet that rest was.

“A sail! a sail!” cried Roger Trew. The beams of the rising sun were shining on the white canvas of a ship which was hull down a long way to the westward. She seemed to be crossing our course, but whether we could reach her before she had stood to any great distance seemed doubtful. We got out our oars to increase the speed of our raft. How eagerly we all kept looking towards that patch of white just rising above the horizon! We drew nearer and nearer. Perhaps the look-out aloft might have seen us. From the deck of the ship we could scarcely have been visible. Frequently, as we drew nearer, I felt inclined to shriek out and to shout to her to stay for us.

“Do you think she is English?” asked Mr Hooker.

“Little doubt about it,” answered Mr Thudicumb. “She is a merchantman, though probably bound round from Singapore to trade with some of these islands, and maybe to go to Sydney, or perhaps up to China.”

It seemed very doubtful, however, whether she would perceive us before she had got to a distance. Already she was ahead of us, standing away on the port tack. Our eyes, as they had hitherto been, were still fixed on her.

“See! see! there is lift tacks and sheets!—the helm’s a-lee!—she’s coming round!” shouted Tarbox. “We are seen! we are seen!”

Chapter Thirty Seven.

Old England reached at last—Conclusion.

The ship was standing towards us. We had now no doubts of her being a large English merchantman. She was a new ship, too, apparently. Presently she was hove to. A boat was lowered, and with rapid strokes pulled towards us. “Who are you? Where do you come from?” asked some one in the boat as we lowered our sails.

“Our answer would be a long one, friend,” said Mr Sedgwick. “We are English people escaping from a burning mountain.”

“You will be welcome aboard our ship at all events,” was the answer. “Here, catch hold of this rope, and we will tow your raft alongside.”

A rope was hove to us over the stern of the boat, and without further words we were towed away towards the ship. I eyed her with pleasure. I had often thought that if I once got ashore I should never wish to go to sea again. On looking, however, at her fine proportions and trim rigging, I felt that I should be proud to be an officer of such a craft.

Of course we did not move quickly. It was some time before we were alongside. “Come, we must now take you on board,” said the officer in the boat. “The ladies first, I conclude.” The Frau, Emily, and Grace were handed in. “We can take more, though. Here you, young man, and one of you gentlemen.” Mr Hooker followed him into the boat.

An accommodation ladder was let down, as the sea was as smooth as in a sheltered harbour. The Frau was helped up the side first, and the two girls followed. Suddenly I heard a loud shriek of astonishment, and presently whose face should I see but that of my old friend Captain Davenport appearing at the gangway. In another instant he had his daughter Grace in his arms.

“My mother! where is my mother?” exclaimed Grace.

“Here, here, my child!” and Mrs Davenport received her daughter from her husband’s arms. Both held her, gazing anxiously at her face.

“You are restored to us, my child,” said Mrs Davenport.

“And Emily, our second daughter!” exclaimed the old captain, taking Emily in his arms. She received almost as loving a welcome as Grace had done, and I had ample reason to be thankful for my reception.

I must make a long story short. We found that Captain and Mrs Davenport, after waiting at Singapore for some months, vainly expecting our return, and after having made every inquiry in their power for the missing Dugong, had at length given up the search, under the belief that we had been lost in a typhoon. A ship had touched at Singapore whose captain had died, and Captain Davenport having lost so much of his property in the Bussorah Merchant, had been compelled to accept the charge of taking her home. He had there been immediately appointed to the command of a new ship—the Ulysses. The offer he gladly accepted, as she was, after touching at Singapore, to proceed round the south coast of Borneo, and thus up through the Sea of Celebes to the Philippine Islands and Japan. He had faint hopes of finding us, but yet the opportunity was not to be lost.

Our meeting was indeed wonderful, and we had reason to be thankful that we had been saved the sufferings to which we might have been subjected, and that their anxiety was thus happily ended. I need scarcely say that Mrs Davenport and her husband suffered greatly at the supposed loss of their daughter, while I fully believe they mourned also greatly for us; indeed, they treated both Emily and I as if we were their own children, and nothing could exceed their kindness and attention. Captain Davenport offered to return to Singapore for the sake of landing Mr Hooker and our uncle; but they preferred remaining on board the ship, declaring that they must set to work to replace the treasures they had lost; and as the ship was to remain for several days at every place she touched at, they hoped in a limited degree to do so; but I could not help being amused sometimes at hearing them mourning the loss of their specimens—not, however, so much on their own account as on that of the scientific world in general.

“But surely, uncle,” I said one day, “you have saved your note-books, and from them you may give a good deal of information.”

“Of course, Walter,” he answered. “That is my great consolation. Had it not been for that, I scarcely think I could have survived the terrible disaster.”

We had reason to be thankful that we had fallen in with the Ulysses, for we had not been on board a couple of days when it came on to blow hard, and so heavy a sea got up, that I suspect our raft would scarcely have held together, or at all events we should probably have been washed off it. I must reserve the notes we made at the fresh places we visited for another occasion.

At length we were once more on our homeward voyage. The first mate of the ship having got appointed to the command of a vessel which had lost her master, Mr Thudicumb took his place. The boatswain also was taken ill, and Dick Tarbox became boatswain in his stead; while the other men entered as seamen on board the Ulysses.

We arrived in England after a prosperous voyage. I told Captain Davenport that I hoped he would allow me to accompany him again to sea, trusting that I might soon obtain a berth as mate on board his ship.

“I should be very glad to have you, Walter,” he said; “but I have received some information which will make it your duty, I suspect, to remain on shore. When I was last in England, I saw an account in the newspapers of the death of the surviving children of your father’s elder brother, and now he himself has followed them to the grave. As far, therefore, as I can learn, you are heir-at-law to the title and estates of Lord Heatherly.”

I almost lost my breath as I listened to this information. I could scarcely indeed believe it.

“I think you must be mistaken, my dear sir,” I answered. “I never even heard my father say that he was likely to succeed to the title.”

“Probably not,” said Captain Davenport, “as your eldest uncle had two children, and Lord Heatherly had a younger brother; but as all four have since been removed by death, I believe that there is no other heir than yourself.”

This information he gave me at his house at Poplar, where Emily and I were residing with him. That very afternoon our uncle, Mr Sedgwick, arrived. He, too, had just heard of the death of my uncle, Mr Heathfield, though he was not aware that all his children were also dead.

“I see that I must bestir myself, Walter, for your and Emily’s interests,” he observed. “Captain Davenport is right, I am sure, in supposing that you are the heir-at-law to Lord Heatherly, besides which you have inherited some property which would have been your mother’s.”

My uncle, though an enthusiastic naturalist, was also a man of action. He proposed immediately setting off to visit Lord Heatherly, and to see whether he would acknowledge my claims.

“I was once well acquainted with his lordship,” he observed, “and I think he will attend to my representations. If he does not, we must see how far the law can help us. I have, however, little doubt that he will be ready to acknowledge you as his heir.”

The next day a postchaise arrived at the door, when my uncle and I started in it for Hampshire, in which county Lord Heatherly resided. As we neared the house, I observed the sadly dilapidated condition of numerous cottages we passed; indeed, the whole property seemed to wear an air of neglect very unusual, I must say, about an English estate. On arriving at the house, the servant who opened the door said that Lord Heatherly was very ill, and could not possibly see strangers.

“But I am not a stranger,” said Mr Sedgwick; “and this young gentleman is a relation of his lordship,—indeed, the nearest he has; and probably Lord Heatherly would be glad to see one who will some day succeed to his name and estates.”

The manner of the servant immediately changed. “Lord Heatherly, sir, is, I am afraid, dying,” he answered; “but I will let his lordship know who has come, and possibly he may be ready to do as you wish. At the same time, pray understand, sir, that it will not be my fault if he refuses to see the young gentleman.”

“Of course not, my good man,” said Mr Sedgwick.

In a short time the servant returned, saying that Lord Heatherly would see us. We found the old lord lying on a stately bed in a handsome room, a harsh-featured nurse by his side, while a footman stood at the foot of the bed ready to receive orders.

“Mr Sedgwick, I remember you,” he said. “Your sister married my cousin.—And so this lad claims to be my heir? Let me look at him. I remember Walter Heathfield’s features well. Yes, I can believe that you are his son. I have made no will. All my estates are entailed, and if you can prove that you are next of kin, you will succeed. It matters not to me, though I should prefer that they were inherited by one who has been brought up as a gentleman. I do not wish to dispute your rights, if you are really my heir. The doctors say I am dying. They may be right. I have lived a number of years, and I am pretty well tired of life. You think, young gentleman, that you are about to succeed to a noble inheritance; but let me tell you that an estate like this entails many cares and responsibilities. The responsibilities I have ignored. Of the cares I have had enough. If you follow in my footsteps, you will find but little satisfaction in the property. It is somewhat heavily encumbered; and if my brother Jack had succeeded, it would in a short time have been still more so. There, I have given you a few hints; it will be your own fault if you do not take them. Speaking so much has wearied me. You and Mr Sedgwick are welcome to remain in the house as long as you please. If I am alive to-morrow morning I shall be happy to see you again. You will find dinner prepared for you. And now, good afternoon.”

My cousin, who was propped up with pillows, made an inclination with his head, but did not even attempt to hold out his hand. My uncle bowed, and I followed his example as we left the room. We found the servants arranged in the hall, and with many bows they ushered us into the drawing-room. Soon afterwards the housekeeper made her appearance, and begged to learn my commands. I declined, however, giving any, saying that we were but guests in the house of Lord Heatherly, and would trust to her to act as she thought fit. I asked Mr Sedgwick whether he wished to remain.

“Yes, Walter,” he said; “I think it will be the best thing to do. If his lordship publicly acknowledges you it will be nine-tenths of the law in your favour; and, indeed, as I cannot learn who else claims to be the heir, I trust that you will have no competitor.”

I had never in my life seen a better entertainment than was in a short time put before my uncle and me. I felt very shy when sitting down at table with so many attendants, and was very glad when dinner was over and they retired. My uncle and I then drew our chairs towards the fire, and talked over my prospects. Certainly the change seemed very great, when I reflected that not a year ago I was living a solitary being, cast away on an island in the Eastern Seas, and that I was now heir to a title and a large estate.

During the night I was awaked by hearing the sound of footsteps moving along the passage, and soon afterwards there was a rap at the door. I jumped out of bed, and asked who it was. It was the butler, who entered the room and lighted the candles.

“His lordship is very much worse, sir,” he said; “and if you wish to see him alive, you should come immediately.”

I hurried on my clothes, and, accompanied by Mr Sedgwick, who had also been roused, repaired to Lord Heatherly’s room. The doctor was by his side. He made a sign to us to come forward. The dying man opened his eyes and fixed them on me. “He is my heir,” he said. “In a few minutes he will be Lord Heatherly, and I shall be dust.”

Scarcely had he uttered these words when I saw a fearful alteration take place in his countenance. The medical man held his pulse, and presently I saw him lean forward and close my cousin’s eyes, whose last gaze had been fixed on me.

“He is gone,” said the doctor, “and I can be of no further service. Probably the young Lord Heatherly and you, sir,” he added, turning to Mr Sedgwick, “will give such directions as you may think fit. You, I conclude, are acquainted with the late Lord Heatherly’s wishes.”

Strange were the sensations which came over me. I had scarcely realised till then my position. I felt, indeed, utterly unfit to think or act for myself, and was very glad when I once more found myself in my own room and in bed.

As may be supposed, I slept but little for the remainder of the night; and the next morning when the servants addressed me as “your lordship,” I almost felt as if they were mocking me; indeed, I was not a little annoyed by the constant repetition of the expression. At length I begged my uncle to come with me to the study, giving directions to the servants that we should be left alone. However, we were soon interrupted by persons who came to take orders for the funeral, and I found myself at once with numberless responsibilities on my shoulders. The first moment of quiet I could find I sat down to write to Emily, and to send messages to our kind friends. Mr Sedgwick undertook to come back as soon as various necessary arrangements were made, and to bring her to Heatherly Hall. I begged that he would invite Grace to accompany her, requesting that, after the funeral, Captain and Mrs Davenport would come also.

I will pass over the account of the funeral, which was attended, I am sorry to say, with very few real mourners, though all the families in the neighbourhood sent their carriages, and a few gentlemen who had been more intimately acquainted with the late lord came themselves.

In a short time another claimant appeared; but as I had been acknowledged in the presence of sufficient witnesses by the late lord, he soon withdrew his claim, and I was left in undisputed possession of the title and property. I remembered Lord Heatherly’s remarks with regard to the responsibilities of my position, and I considered well what they were. He acknowledged that he had reaped but poor enjoyment from his wealth. “That also may be my case,” I said to myself; “but one thing I will do, I will pray for guidance from above, and will endeavour to fulfil to the best of my power the responsibilities cast on me.” My uncle had an old friend, a clever and honest lawyer, whose services I immediately engaged; and with his aid, and that of the steward of the estate, I set to work to ascertain what incumbrances existed, and what was most required to be done on the property. The cottages of the poor tenants were in a sadly dilapidated state. My first care was to have a number built in a style best suited to their wants, with four or more rooms in each, and with various conveniences for their comfort. They were well drained, and had an ample supply of good water. For their spiritual wants I engaged an experienced missionary, who might constantly go among them; and while he preached the glad tidings of salvation, might ascertain who were sick or suffering, and report to me accordingly, that I might relieve them.

Among my first guests was Oliver Farwell. He took an eager interest in what was going forward, and greatly assisted the missionary in his labours. I asked Oliver what profession he purposed following, whether he wished again to go to sea.

“I should probably have done so,” he answered; “but Mr Hooker has proposed that I should go to college, and my tastes certainly lead me to adopt one of the learned professions. I delight in study, and should like to choose the one by which I might the most benefit my fellow-creatures. Had I my free choice, I should wish to become a minister of the gospel, for I am sure to no more honourable or important calling can man devote the energies and talents with which his Maker has endowed him.”

“I am thankful to hear that, Oliver,” I answered. “You and I have been like brothers so long, that you must allow me to treat you as a younger brother, and bear your college expenses. I have, too, I understand, two livings in my gift, the incumbents of which are at present old men, and I gladly promise to present you to the first which becomes vacant, should you by that time have been ordained.”

“I will tell Mr Hooker of your kind intentions,” he answered; “and indeed, Lord Heatherly, I am truly grateful to you for them.”

It sounded very odd to hear Oliver calling me Lord Heatherly. “Call me Walter, as before, my dear Oliver,” I said. “You and I must always be Oliver and Walter to each other.”

As soon as a number of decent cottages had been put up, I offered them to the tenants at the same rents that they had paid for the ruinous ones, which I then had pulled down, as I found they were utterly unfit to be repaired. On their sites, after the ground had been drained, I erected others; and in the course of two or three years, no one would have recognised the place. Three or four wretched public-houses or beerhouses had existed in the village. I declined renewing the leases of the tenants of these, and got a respectable man to take a new and decent inn, which I had built for the purpose. That part of the parish had been noted for poachers, and the number of other disorderly characters it contained. These either left the place or took to better callings.

One of my earliest undertakings was to have a good school-house erected, with a residence for the master and mistress, in the most central position I could fix on. By giving rewards and encouragements to the pupils, in a short time there was not a child on the property who did not attend school.

I consulted Emily, as also my uncle and Mr Hooker, as to how I could best prove my gratitude to Captain and Mrs Davenport. They managed to place a sum to his credit at his banker’s, in a way which prevented him from suspecting from whom it came. Shortly afterwards I found, from the way he spoke of the satisfactory addition to his fortune, he had no idea that I was the donor.

“Our great wish had been to give our dear Grace a finished education,” observed Mrs Davenport. “She is already as well informed as most girls of her age, but probably a few accomplishments would be advantageous to her. With our increased income we can now afford to send her to a first-rate school. I have heard of one where the mistress is not only an accomplished lady, but a pious woman, who watches over the most important interests of her pupils, and from the account I have heard from the young ladies under her charge, I feel sure that Grace cannot fail to benefit by spending two or three years with her.”

When Emily found that Grace was to go to school, she begged to accompany her. I had too many duties to perform to allow me to go to college, which I should otherwise have done, though already rather old, I fancied, for commencing a university career. I, however, through Mr Hooker, found a first-rate tutor, and during the time my sister and Grace were at school, I read hard every day with him. I found also his advice of great assistance in my efforts to improve the condition of the people committed to my charge.

Captain Davenport had not given up the sea entirely; but after making two or three successful voyages, he so improved his means, that he was able to retire and live on shore, where he obtained a lucrative employment.

He had some time before presented me with Merlin, who soon made himself at home in the house, though he never went far from it, evidently considering it, as the ship had been, under his especial charge. Whenever he heard me narrating our adventures, he pricked up his ears, as if he understood what was said, and wished to corroborate my account. He lived to extreme old age, amiable and faithful to the last.

Emily, at length, having left school, came to reside with me, and preside over my establishment. I should have said that it was far less difficult to manage than in my cousin’s time, as I had dismissed several of the footmen and grooms, as well as other useless hangers-on, who, I felt sure, benefited neither themselves nor me, by living lives of idleness. As may be supposed, Emily, who had grown into a beautiful young woman, had no want of admirers; but, to my surprise, she refused several excellent offers in succession.

“Why should I leave your house, my dear brother?” she answered, when one day I gently expostulated with her on the subject. “When you have a wife of your own, it will be time enough for me to do so; unless she wishes me to remain.”

Soon after this, Oliver Farwell, who had generally spent his vacation with me, was ordained, and the incumbent of the chief living belonging to the property having died, I presented him to it, and he commenced a career of sympathising care over the flock committed to him, which soon endeared him to them, while he gained the love and respect of people of all denominations in the parish.

“It is a long time since the Davenports paid us a visit,” I said to Emily one day. “Will you write and invite them? I am sure that you will be glad to have your old friend Grace with you.”

I had not seen Grace for a long time, and I somehow or other always thought of her as the little girl who had been Emily’s friend, and the daughter of our kind protector during our adventures in the Eastern Archipelago. I could scarcely believe my eyes when an elegant and refined young lady stepped out of the carriage which brought Captain and Mrs Davenport to my house. I had never thought of marrying; indeed, I had not been attracted by any of the young ladies in my immediate neighbourhood. When I saw Grace, however, and found her sweet, and amiable, and well-instructed, and refined, and right-minded, possessed indeed of all the qualities which should adorn a woman, new thoughts and feelings took possession of me, and I became convinced that no lady in the world was more calculated to add to my happiness than she was. Still, I could not tell how her own feelings might be engaged. Perhaps Emily saw how things were going on, for one day she said to me—

“I do not think you need be afraid, Walter; and if you ask her, I shall be very much surprised if she refuses you.”

Thereon, before many hours had passed away, I spoke to Grace, and found that there was every prospect of all my hopes of happiness being realised.

“And, Emily,” I said to her the next day, “will you confide to me the reason why you have refused so many good offers of marriage? I do not wish to get rid of you, and I am very certain that you would add greatly to Grace’s happiness if you remain here.”

“In that case,” she answered, “I think it will be my duty, as well as pleasure, to remain your guest.”

“That is not a categorical answer,” I remarked. “Come, Emily, tell me, is there no one for whom you have more regard than for those unhappy gentlemen whom you refused?” I saw a gentle blush rise to her cheek. “Well,” I said, “I shall ask Oliver Farwell to come and stay here. He keeps away far more than there is any necessity for, as he can easily ride across the park to his vicarage, and equally well attend to his duties as he can when residing there.”

“If Mr Farwell keeps away, he has probably good reason for doing so,” answered Emily; “though, of course, you are welcome to ask him to come over here, if you like to do so. I greatly respect him, and I am sure whatever he does is from a right motive.”

The following day I rode over to the vicarage, and pressed Oliver to come and stay with us, and help to entertain Captain and Mrs Davenport. I saw he hesitated somewhat. Though he congratulated me sincerely on my prospect of marriage, he uttered an involuntary sigh as he ceased speaking. “I hope, my dear Oliver, that you may enjoy the same happiness yourself,” I said. “I am very certain that the usefulness of a clergyman is greatly increased by the assistance of a suitable wife—one who will sympathise with him in his unavoidable trials and disappointments, and who will attend to many of the cases of distress which he may find it difficult to manage.” He looked grave, and then I thought he gave an inquiring glance up at my face. “Yes, Oliver,” I said; “and I am sure if you can find a woman possessed of the qualities you desire, and her heart is disengaged, she is not likely to refuse to share your fortunes.”

Before I left, Oliver had promised to come over that day to the hall. Whatever Emily had intended to do, somehow or other before long Oliver found out that, should he make her an offer, she was not likely to refuse him.

The two marriages took place on the same day, and among those who were present were Dick Tarbox, Roger Trew, Potto Jumbo, and our old friend Macco—Merlin wearing a huge favour on this occasion. Macco, indeed, was installed soon afterwards as a butler at the vicarage; while Potto Jumbo became under-cook in my establishment, and soon, by his intelligence and attention, rose to be head-cook. Dick Tarbox and Roger Trew promised, when they gave up the sea, to come and settle down on my estate, and I pointed out the site where I would build two cottages for their accommodation.

My friends and I had gone through many trials and dangers together, and I believe we had all learned an important lesson from them,—to put implicit trust in a merciful God who watches over his creatures, who allows not a sparrow to fall to the ground unknown to him, who desires the happiness of all, and who has made the way plain and simple, having given us the most minute directions by which that happiness may be obtained.

The End.

IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS.

FINDING A FRIEND.

IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS

A Tale of Adventure.

BY

W. H. G. KINGSTON,

AUTHOR OF "OLD JACK," "IN THE EASTERN SEAS," "ON THE BANKS OF THE AMAZON," "IN THE WILDS OF AFRICA," ETC.

LONDON: THOMAS NELSON AND SONS.

EDINBURGH AND NEW YORK.

1878.

Contents.

CHAPTER I.

WHY UNCLE JEFF CAME TO "ROARING WATER,"—THE SITUATION OF THE FARM—THE

INMATES OF THE HOUSE—MY SISTER CLARICE AND BLACK RACHEL—UNCLE

JEFF—BARTLE WON AND GIDEON TUTTLE—ARRIVAL OF LIEUTENANT

BROADSTREET AND HIS MEN—THE TROOPERS QUARTERED IN THE HUT—OUR

FARM-LABOURERS—SUDDEN APPEARANCE OF THE REDSKIN WINNEMAK—HIS FORMER

VISIT TO THE FARM—CLARICE ENCOUNTERS HIM AT THE SPRING—BADLY

WOUNDED—KINDLY TREATED BY CLARICE AND RACHEL—HIS GRATITUDE

13-33

CHAPTER II.

WINNEMAK WARNS US OF THE APPROACH OF ENEMIES—BARTLE GOES OUT TO

SCOUT—NO SIGNS OF A FOE—I TAKE THE LIEUTENANT TO VISIT "ROARING

WATER"—BARTLE REPORTS THAT THE ENEMY HAVE TURNED BACK—THE LIEUTENANT

DELAYED BY THE SERGEANT'S ILLNESS—THE VISIT TO THE HUT—A TIPSY

TROOPER—KLITZ AND GILLOOLY MISSING—THE SERGEANT BECOMES WORSE—SEARCH

FOR THE MISSING MEN—I OFFER TO ACT AS GUIDE TO THE LIEUTENANT—BARTLE

UNDERTAKES TO FIND OUT WHAT HAS BECOME OF KLITZ AND BARNEY

31-55

CHAPTER III.

MY FAMILY HISTORY—MY FATHER, ONCE A CAPTAIN IN THE BRITISH ARMY, COMES

TO AMERICA AND MARRIES UNCLE JEFF'S SISTER—HE SETTLES ON A FARM IN

OHIO—CLARICE AND I ARE BORN—MY GRANDFATHER'S FARM DESTROYED BY A

FLOOD—THE NEXT YEAR OUR FARM IS BURNT—MY FATHER RESOLVES TO MIGRATE TO

THE WEST—WE SET OFF IN WAGGONS WITH AN EMIGRANT TRAIN—PROSPEROUS

COMMENCEMENT OF JOURNEY—PROVISIONS RUN SHORT—I WITNESS A BUFFALO

HUNT—THE EMIGRANTS SUFFER FROM CHOLERA—MY MOTHER DIES—MANY OF THE

EMIGRANTS TURN BACK—MY FATHER PERSEVERES—FIERCELY ATTACKED BY

INDIANS—WE KEEP THEM AT BAY—AGAIN ATTACKED, WHEN A STRANGER COMES TO

OUR ASSISTANCE—CLARICE GIVES HIM A BOOK—HE PROMISES TO READ IT—WE

CONTINUE OUR JOURNEY, AND REACH FORT KEARNEY—REMAIN THERE FOR SOME

MONTHS—MY FATHER, THOUGH STILL SUFFERING, INSISTS ON SETTING OUT

AGAIN—HE SOON BECOMES WORSE, AND DIES—I AM DIGGING HIS GRAVE, WHEN AN

EMIGRANT TRAIN COMES BY—UNCLE JEFF IS THE LEADER, AND WE ACCOMPANY HIM

TO ROARING WATER

56-80

CHAPTER IV.

AS THE LIEUTENANT AND I ARE STARTING, WE HEAR THAT KLITZ AND BARNEY HAVE

GONE OFF WITH A WHEELBARROW FOR CALIFORNIA—A PLEASANT BIVOUAC—AT LAST

WE CATCH SIGHT OF THE DESERTERS—THE LIEUTENANT IS ABOUT TO RIDE AFTER

THEM, WHEN A PARTY OF INDIANS APPEAR—THE INDIANS TAKE TO FLIGHT, AND WE

LOSE SIGHT OF THE RUNAWAYS—FORM OUR CAMP—DISCOVER THAT WE ARE

WATCHED—FOLLOW THE SPY, WHO PROVES TO BE MAYSOTTA—FIND THE DESERTERS

TAKING THEIR EASE—WE CAPTURE THEM, AND, GUIDED BY MAYSOTTA, TAKE THEM

TO THE INDIAN CAMP—RESOLVE TO RETURN TO THE FARM

81-102

CHAPTER V.

WE LEAVE THE INDIAN CAMP—MAYSOTTA'S KIND OFFER—OUR RIDE TO ROARING

WATER—INDIANS IN THE DISTANCE—IN SIGHT OF THE FARM—A STRANGER

INDIAN—OUR RECEPTION BY UNCLE JEFF—THE INDIAN'S STORY—HE GETS FOOD

AND SHELTER—MATTERS NOW LOOK SERIOUS—A COUNCIL OF WAR—MY DOUBTS OF

THE INDIAN—CLARICE AND RACHEL ACCOMPANY THE LIEUTENANT TO THE INDIAN

CAMP—WE BARRICADE THE HOUSE—DISAPPEARANCE OF THE INDIAN—BARTLE GOES

OUT TO RECONNOITRE—APPROACH OF THE ENEMY—A DETERMINED ATTACK—SEVERE

LOSSES—THE OUT-BUILDINGS SET ON FIRE—OUR AMMUNITION RUNS SHORT—THE

ROOF TAKES FIRE—HOW ARE WE TO ESCAPE?—UNCLE JEFF'S RUSE, AND HOW IT

SUCCEEDED

103-133

CHAPTER VI.

WE ARE SURPRISED BY THE INDIANS WHILE LEAVING THE HOUSE—BARTLE'S

ADVICE—I AM PERSUADED TO ESCAPE ALONE—AN EXCITING PURSUIT—FOOD AND

REST—MY JOURNEY RESUMED—AMONG THE MOUNTAINS—MY ANXIETY ABOUT MY

FRIENDS—A WEARY DAY—AN INDIAN IN SIGHT—FRIEND OR ENEMY?—A

RECOGNITION—WINNEMAK AND HIS BRAVES—I AM KINDLY TREATED—NO NEWS OF

UNCLE JEFF—A SPY—WE START IN PURSUIT OF HIM—THE SPY OVERTAKEN—A

DEADLY COMBAT—WINNEMAK OVERCOMES PIOMINGO—IS HE DEAD?—MY

INTERCESSION—ON THE WAY FOR WINNEMAK'S CAMP

134-157

CHAPTER VII.

ON THE MARCH—WINNEMAK UNABLE TO GIVE ME NEWS OF MY FRIENDS—MY

ARGUMENTS IN FAVOUR OF PIOMINGO—ENCAMPED FOR THE NIGHT—WE REACH

WINNEMAK'S CAMP—BRAVES AND SQUAWS—WHERE ARE MY FRIENDS?—WINNEMAK AND

HIS IDOLS—A PARTY OF BRAVES ARRIVE, WITH PRISONERS—MAYSOTTA AND HER

DOG—A STRANGE MEETING—THE LIEUTENANT'S STORY—WE START IN QUEST OF

CLARICE AND RACHEL—A FRUITLESS SEARCH—I LOSE MY FRIEND IN THE

FOREST—TRYING TO REGAIN THE RIGHT PATH, I MEET WITH CLARICE AND

MAYSOTTA—MY SISTER'S STORY—I TELL HER OF THE BURNING OF THE FARM—WE

SET OUT FOR THE CAMP, AND MEET WITH THE LIEUTENANT—NIGHT COMING ON, WE

ENCAMP IN THE FOREST—RESUMING OUR JOURNEY IN THE MORNING, WE REACH THE

CAMP IN SAFETY

158-188

CHAPTER VIII.

I SEEK OUT PIOMINGO—A STRONG DESIRE TO SAVE HIS LIFE—I PLEAD WITH THE

CHIEF, AND GAIN MY POINT—I OFFER THE YOUNG BRAVE MY HORSE AND

ARMS—KINDNESS REQUITED—THE INDIAN'S ESCAPE—A DARING ACT, AND A KIND

DEED—WE SEEK PROTECTION FROM THE INDIANS—RETURN OF UNCLE JEFF AND

MAYSOTTA—AN ADDRESS TO THE BRAVES—HOW IT SUCCEEDED—UNCLE JEFF'S

STORY—THE LIEUTENANT ABOUT TO LEAVE US—HIS PLANS—WE SEND OUT

SCOUTS—ALARMING INTELLIGENCE—THE CAMP STRUCK—WE MOVE TO THE

NORTHWARD—WE CHANGE OUR PLANS—A WONDERFUL REGION—WE SEPARATE FROM OUR

INDIAN FRIENDS—THROUGH A PINE FOREST—THE CATARACT OF THE PASS—WE SEND

BACK OUR HORSES—OUR JOURNEY CONTINUED—A "CANADA STAG" KILLED—ENCAMPED

FOR THE NIGHT

189-216

CHAPTER IX.

WE CONTINUE OUR JOURNEY OVER THE MOUNTAINS, AND ENCAMP IN A FERTILE

VALLEY—HUNT ELK IN COMPANY WITH A PANTHER—I SPOIL THE SPORT OF THE

LATTER—UNCLE JEFF WOUNDS AN ELK, WHICH IS LOST DOWN A PRECIPICE—MORE

FORTUNATE AFTERWARDS—UNCLE JEFF RESOLVES TO REMAIN WITH CLARICE,

RACHEL, AND PAT, WHILE MANLEY, THE SERGEANT, AND I PUSH ON—DIFFICULTIES

IN CROSSING THE MOUNTAINS—MANLEY IN FEARFUL DANGER—HE ESCAPES—DESCEND

TOWARDS A BROAD VALLEY—ITS WONDERFUL APPEARANCE—WE ENCAMP—THE

SERGEANT NEARLY SCALDS HIS FINGERS IN A TEMPTING SPRING—CURIOUS

PHENOMENON—DREADFUL NOISES OF WILD BEASTS DISTURB OUR SLUMBERS

217-238

CHAPTER X.

ADVANCE TOWARDS A BEAUTIFUL LAKE—HOT SULPHUR SPRINGS MET WITH—BOILING

MUD POTS—CURIOUS BASINS FORMED BY WATER IN THE SIDE OF THE

MOUNTAIN—LOVELY FRETWORK ROUND THEIR RIMS—NEARLY SINK INTO A BOILING

MUD POOL—THE LAKE REACHED—ABUNDANCE OF GAME, AND FISH—BUILD A

RAFT—BEGIN VOYAGE ACROSS LAKE—VIOLENT STORM—IN GREAT DANGER—DRIVEN

ACROSS THE LAKE—WE CLING TO TREES WHILE THE RAFT IS DASHED TO

PIECES—MAKE OUR WAY THROUGH THE FOREST—I MISS MY COMPANIONS, AND LOSE

MY GUN AND KNAPSACK OVER A PRECIPICE—REACH FOOT OF MOUNTAIN—I CAMP

WITHOUT SUPPER OR FIRE

239-265

CHAPTER XI.

ALONE IN THE FOREST—AWAKENED BY THE CRY OF A PANTHER—THE BRUTE

DISCOVERS ME—I TAKE REFUGE IN A TREE—THE PANTHER DISAPPEARS—A VISIT

TO THE LAKE—VAIN EFFORTS TO RECOVER MY RIFLE AND KNAPSACK—I CONTINUE

TOWARDS THE WEST, HOPING TO MEET MY FRIENDS—MORE SULPHUR

SPRINGS—NEARLY OVERWHELMED BY A MUD VOLCANO—A POISONOUS VALLEY—CAUGHT

IN A SNOW-STORM—BUILD A HUT—MY FARE, THISTLE ROOTS—MAKE TRAPS AND A

FISHING-LINE—SALLY FORTH—CATCH THREE BEAVERS—FIND ANOTHER

LAKE—SALMON-TROUT CAUGHT—CONTINUE DOWN A RIVER, AND COME UPON A NUMBER

OF MAGNIFICENT GEYSERS—AM ABOUT TO TAKE UP MY ABODE IN A GROTTO, WHEN A

HOT SPRING RISES FROM IT—I SHIFT MY QUARTERS—PREPARE FOR ANOTHER

SOLITARY NIGHT—I HEAR A SHOT, AND A WOUNDED DEER BOUNDS NEAR ME

266-288

CHAPTER XII.

I KILL THE DEER—MORE WONDERS—MEET MANLEY AND SERGEANT CUSTIS AT

LAST—A PLEASANT EVENING—PARCHED WITH THIRST AMIDST SPARKLING

STREAMS—OUR HAZARDOUS JOURNEY OVER THE MOUNTAINS—SAFE ARRIVAL AT FORT

HARWOOD—WELCOMED BY THE COMMANDANT—AN EXPEDITION ORGANIZED TO DRIVE

THE INDIANS FROM THE COUNTRY—MANLEY COMMANDS IT—I ACCOMPANY HIM—MEET

BARNEY AND KLITZ, STILL BOUND FOR CALIFORNIA—BARNEY GIVES AN ACCOUNT OF

THEIR ESCAPE—THEIR JOURNEY STOPPED—THEY RETURN WITH US—WE MEET

PIOMINGO AND HIS SQUAW—TELLS US THAT HE HAS BURIED THE

WAR-HATCHET—HEAR AN ALARMING ACCOUNT OF BARTLE—ASCEND THE MOUNTAIN TO

WHERE WE LEFT UNCLE JEFF—FIND HIM AND CLARICE WELL—HE HAS OBTAINED A

LARGE SUPPLY OF PELTRIES—OUR RETURN TO WINNEMAK'S CAMP—MAYSOTTA

ACCOMPANIES CLARICE TO ROARING WATER

289-309

CHAPTER XIII.

ON OUR WAY WE VISIT PIOMINGO—HE TELLS US OF BARTLE'S CAPTIVITY, AND

OFFERS TO ASSIST US IN HIS RECOVERY—GIDEON, PIOMINGO, AND I SET OUT,

FOLLOWED BY A STRONG PARTY UNDER SERGEANT CUSTIS—WE DISCOVER THE TRAIL,

AND FOLLOW IT UP—HORRIBLE CRUELTIES PRACTISED BY INDIANS ON THEIR

PRISONERS—THE TRAIL LEADS ALONG THE MOUNTAIN—WE SEE A FIGURE ABOVE

US—IT IS BARTLE—IS HE ALIVE?—JUST IN TIME—GIDEON AND I STAY BY

HIM—I AFTERWARDS SET OFF TO OBTAIN HELP—PIOMINGO HAS SENT A LITTER—WE

ARRIVE SAFE AT ROARING WATER—HARD AT WORK REBUILDING THE HOUSE—A FORT

ESTABLISHED—BARNEY AND KLITZ JOIN US—A VISIT FROM MANLEY—A PROPOSAL,

AND CONFESSION—UNCLE JEFF APPROVES OF THE ENGAGEMENT OF MANLEY AND

CLARICE—WINNEMAK AND PIOMINGO BECOME CHRISTIANS, AND INSTRUCT THEIR

PEOPLE—THE HOUSE REBUILT—SETTLERS GATHER ROUND US, AND UNCLE JEFF'S

FARM BECOMES THE MOST FLOURISHING IN THE NEIGHBOURHOOD

310-333

IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS.

CHAPTER I.

WHY UNCLE JEFF CAME TO "ROARING WATER"—THE SITUATION OF THE FARM—THE INMATES OF THE HOUSE—MY SISTER CLARICE AND BLACK RACHEL—UNCLE JEFF—BARTLE WON AND GIDEON TUTTLE—ARRIVAL OF LIEUTENANT BROADSTREET AND HIS MEN—THE TROOPERS QUARTERED IN THE HUT—OUR FARM-LABOURERS—SUDDEN APPEARANCE OF THE REDSKIN WINNEMAK—HIS FORMER VISIT TO THE FARM—CLARICE ENCOUNTERS HIM AT THE SPRING—BADLY WOUNDED—KINDLY TREATED BY CLARICE AND RACHEL—HIS GRATITUDE.

E were most of us seated round a blazing fire of pine logs, which crackled away merrily, sending the sparks about in all directions, at the no small risk of setting fire to garments of a lighter texture than ours. Although the flowers were blooming on the hill-sides, in the woods and valleys, and by the margins of the streams; humming-birds were flitting about gathering their dainty food; and the bears, having finished the operation of licking their paws, had come out in search of more substantial fare; and the buffalo had been seen migrating to the north,—the wind at night blew keenly from off the snow-capped mountain-tops which, at no great distance, rose above us, and rendered a fire acceptable even to us hardy backwoodsmen.

Our location was far in advance of any settlement in that latitude of North America, for Uncle Jeff Crockett "could never abide," he averred, "being in the rear of his fellow-creatures." Whenever he had before found people gathering around him at the spot where he had pitched his tent, or rather, put up his log-hut, he had sold his property (always to advantage, however), and yoking his team, had pushed on westward, with a few sturdy followers.

On and on he had come, until he had reached the base of the Rocky Mountains. He would have gone over them, but, having an eye to business, and knowing that it was necessary to secure a market for his produce, he calculated that he had come far enough for the present. He therefore climbed the sides of the mountain for a short distance, until he entered a sort of cañon, which, penetrating westward, greatly narrowed, until it had the appearance of a cleft with lofty crags on either side,—while it opened out eastward, overlooking the broad valley and the plain beyond.

He chose the spot as one capable of being defended against the Redskins, never in those parts very friendly to white men,—especially towards those whom they found settling themselves on lands which they looked upon as their own hunting-grounds, although they could use them for no other purpose.

Another reason which had induced Uncle Jeff to select this spot was, that not far off was one of the only practicable passes through the mountains either to the north or south, and that the trail to it led close below us at the foot of the hills, so that every emigrant train or party of travellers going to or from the Great Salt Lake or California must pass in sight of the house.

A stream, issuing from the heights above, fell over the cliffs, forming a roaring cataract; and then, rushing through the cañon, made its way down into the valley, irrigating and fertilizing the ground, until it finally reached a large river, the Platte, flowing into the Missouri. From this cataract our location obtained its name of "Roaring Water;" but it was equally well known as "Uncle Jeff's Farm."

Our neighbours, if such they could be called in this wild region, were "birds of passage." Now and then a few Indian families might fix their tents in the valley below; or a party of hunters or trappers might bivouac a night or two under the shelter of the woods, scattered here and there; or travellers bound east or west might encamp by the margin of the river for the sake of recruiting their cattle, or might occasionally seek for shelter at the log-house which they saw perched above them, where, in addition to comfortable quarters, abundant fare and a hospitable welcome—which Uncle Jeff never refused to any one, whoever he might be, who came to his door—were sure to be obtained.

But it is time that I should say something about the inmates of the house at the period I am describing.

First, there was Uncle Jeff Crockett, a man of about forty-five, with a tall, stalwart figure, and a handsome countenance (though scarred by a slash from a tomahawk, and the claws of a bear with which he had had a desperate encounter). A bright blue eye betokened a keen sight, as also that his rifle was never likely to miss its aim; while his well-knit frame gave assurance of great activity and endurance.

I was then about seventeen, and Uncle Jeff had more than once complimented me by remarking that "I was a true chip of the old block," as like what he was when at my age as two peas, and that he had no fear but that I should do him credit; so that I need not say any more about myself.

I must say something, however, about my sister Clarice, who was my junior by rather more than a year. Fair as a lily she was, in spite of summer suns, from which she took but little pains to shelter herself; but they had failed even to freckle her clear skin, or darken her light hair—except, it might be, that from them it obtained the golden hue which tinged it. Delicate as she looked, she took an active part in all household duties, and was now busy about some of them at the further end of the big hall, which served as our common sitting-room, workshop, kitchen, and often as a sleeping-room, when guests were numerous. She was assisted by Rachel Prentiss, a middle-aged negress, the only other woman in the establishment; who took upon herself the out-door work and rougher duties, with the exception of tending the poultry and milking the cows, in which Clarice also engaged.

"ROARING WATER" FARM

I have not yet described the rest of the party round the fire. There was Bartle Won, a faithful follower, for many years, of Uncle Jeff; but as unlike him as it was possible that any two human beings could be. Bartle was a wiry little fellow, with bow legs, broad shoulders (one rather higher than the other), and a big head, out of which shone a pair of gray eyes, keen as those of a hawk—the only point in which he resembled Uncle Jeff. He was wonderfully active and strong, notwithstanding his figure; and as for fatigue, he did not know what it meant. He could go days without eating or drinking; although, when he did get food, he certainly made ample amends for his abstinence. He was no great runner; but when once on the back of a horse, no animal, however vicious and up to tricks, had been able to dislodge him.

Gideon Tuttle was another faithful follower of Uncle Jeff: he was a hardy backwoodsman, whose gleaming axe had laid many monarchs of the forest low. Though only of moderate height, few men could equal him in strength. He could fell an ox with his fist, and hold down by the horns a young bull, however furious. He had had several encounters with bears; and although on two occasions only armed with a knife, he had come off victorious. His nerve and activity equalled his strength. He was no great talker, and he was frequently morose and ill-tempered; but he had one qualification which compensated for all his other deficiencies—he was devotedly attached to Uncle Jeff.

There were engaged on the farm, besides these, four other hands: an Irishman, a Spaniard, a negro, and a half-breed, who lived by themselves in a rough hut near the house. Although Uncle Jeff was a great advocate for liberty and equality, he had no fancy to have these fellows in-doors; their habits and language not being such as to make close intimacy pleasant.

The two old followers of Uncle Jeff—although they would have laughed at the notion of being called gentlemen—were clean in their persons, and careful in their conversation, especially in the presence of Clarice.

Just before sunset that evening, our party had been increased by the arrival of an officer of the United States army and four men, who were on their way from Fort Laramie to Fort Harwood, on the other side of the mountains; but they had been deserted by their Indian guide, and having been unable to find the entrance to the pass, were well-nigh worn out with fatigue and vexation when they caught sight of Roaring Water Farm.

The officer and his men were received with a hearty welcome.

"There is food enough in the store, and we will make a shake-down for you in this room," said Uncle Jeff, wringing the hand of the officer in his usual style.

The latter introduced himself as Lieutenant Manley Broadstreet. He was a fine-looking young fellow, scarcely older than I was; but he had already seen a great deal of service in border warfare with the Indians, as well as in Florida and Texas.

"You are welcome here, friends," said Uncle Jeff, who, as I have said, was no respecter of persons, and made little distinction between the lieutenant and his men.

At this Lieutenant Broadstreet demurred, and, as he glanced at Clarice, inquired whether there was any building near in which the men could be lodged.

"They are not very fit company for a young lady," he remarked aside.

He did not, however, object to the sergeant joining him; and the other three men were accordingly ordered to take up their quarters at the hut, with its motley inhabitants.

Their appearance, I confess, somewhat reminded me of Falstaff's "ragged regiment." The three varied wonderfully in height. The tallest was not only tall, but thin in the extreme, his ankles protruding below his trousers, and his wrists beyond the sleeves of his jacket; he had lost his military hat, and had substituted for it a high beaver, which he had obtained from some Irish emigrant on the road. He was a German; and his name, he told me, was Karl Klitz. The shortest of the party, Barnaby Gillooly, was also by far the fattest; indeed, it seemed surprising that, with his obese figure, he could undergo the fatigue he must constantly have been called upon to endure. He seemed to be a jolly, merry fellow notwithstanding, as he showed by breaking into a hearty laugh as Klitz, stumbling over a log, fell with his long neck and shoulders on the one side, and his heels kicking up in the air on the other. The last man was evidently a son of Erin, from the few words he uttered in a rich brogue, which had not deteriorated by long absence from home and country. He certainly presented a more soldierly appearance than did his two comrades, but the ruddy blue hue of his nose and lips showed that when liquor was to be obtained he was not likely to let it pass his lips untasted.

The three soldiers were welcomed by the inhabitants of the hut, who were glad to have strangers with whom they could chat, and who could bring them news from the Eastern States.

On coming back to the house, after conducting the three men to the hut, I found the lieutenant and his sergeant, Silas Custis, seated before the fire; the young lieutenant every now and then, as was not surprising, casting a glance at Clarice. But she was too busily occupied in getting the supper-table ready to notice the admiration she was inspiring.

Rachel, with frying-pan in hand, now made her way towards the fire, and begging those who impeded her movements to draw on one side, she commenced her culinary operations. She soon had a huge dish of rashers of bacon ready; while a couple of pots were carried off to be emptied of their contents; and some cakes, which had been cooking under the ashes, were withdrawn, and placed hot and smoking on the platter.

"All ready, genl'em," exclaimed Rachel; "you can fall to when you like."

The party got up, and we took our seats at the table. Clarice, who until a short time before had been assisting Rachel, now returned—having been away to arrange her toilet. She took her usual seat at the head of the table; and the lieutenant, to his evident satisfaction, found himself placed near her. He spoke in a pleasant, gentlemanly tone, and treated Clarice in every respect as a young lady,—as, indeed, she was. He now and then addressed me; and the more he said, the more I felt inclined to like him.

Uncle Jeff had a good deal of conversation with Sergeant Custis, who appeared to be a superior sort of person, and had, I suspect, seen better days.

We were still seated at supper when the door opened and an Indian stalked into the room, decked with war-paint and feathers, and rifle in hand.

"Ugh!" he exclaimed, stopping and regarding us, as if unwilling to advance without permission.

"Come in, friend," said Uncle Jeff, rising and going towards him; "sit down, and make yourself at home. You would like some food, I guess?"

The Indian again uttered a significant "Ugh!" as, taking advantage of Uncle Jeff's offer, he seated himself by the fire.

"Why, uncle," exclaimed Clarice, "it is Winnemak!"

But I must explain how Clarice came to know the Indian, whom, at the first moment, no one else had recognized.

Not far off, in a grove of Cottonwood trees up the valley, there came forth from the side of the hill a spring of singularly bright and cool water, of which Uncle Jeff was particularly fond; as were, indeed, the rest of us. Clarice made it a practice every evening, just before we returned home from our day's work, to fetch a large pitcher of water from this spring, that we might have it as cool and fresh as possible.

It happened that one afternoon, in the spring of the previous year, she had set off with this object in view, telling Rachel where she was going; but she had just got out of the enclosure when she caught sight of one of the cows straying up the valley.

"I go after her, Missie Clarice; you no trouble youself," cried Rachel.

So Clarice continued her way, carrying her pitcher on her head. It was somewhat earlier than usual, and having no especial work to attend to at home, she did not hurry. It was as warm a day as any in summer, and finding the heat somewhat oppressive, she sat down by the side of the pool to enjoy the refreshing coolness of the air which came down the cañon. "I ought to be going home," she said to herself; and taking her pitcher, she filled it with water.

She was just about to replace it on her head, when she was startled by the well-known Indian "Ugh!" uttered by some one who was as yet invisible. She at first felt a little alarmed, but recollecting that if the stranger had been an enemy he would not have given her warning, she stood still, with her pitcher in her hand, looking around her.

CLARICE AND WINNEMAK

Presently an Indian appeared from among the bushes, his dress torn and travel-stained, and his haggard looks showing that he must have undergone great fatigue. He made signs, as he approached, to show that he had come over the mountains; he then pointed to his lips, to let her understand that he was parched with thirst.

"Poor man! you shall have some water, then," said Clarice, immediately holding up the pitcher, that the stranger might drink without difficulty. His looks brightened as she did so; and after he had drunk his fill he gave her back the pitcher, drawing a long breath, and placing his hand on his heart to express his gratitude.

While the Indian was drinking, Clarice observed Rachel approaching, with a look of alarm on her countenance. It vanished, however, when she saw how Clarice and the Indian were employed.

"Me dare say de stranger would like food as well as drink," she observed as she joined them, and making signs to the Indian to inquire if he was hungry.

He nodded his head, and uttered some words. But although neither Clarice nor Rachel could understand his language, they saw very clearly that he greatly required food.

"Come along, den," said Rachel; "you shall hab some in de twinkle ob an eye, as soon as we get home.—Missie Clarice, me carry de pitcher, or Indian fancy you white slavey;" and Rachel laughed at her own wit.

She then told Clarice how she had caught sight of the Indian coming over the mountain, as she was driving home the cow; and that, as he was making his way towards the spring, she had been dreadfully alarmed at the idea that he might surprise her young mistress. She thought it possible, too, that he might be accompanied by other Redskins, and that they should perhaps carry her off; or, at all events, finding the house undefended, they might pillage it, and get away with their booty before the return of the men.

"But he seems friendly and well-disposed," said Clarice, looking at the Indian; "and even if he had not been suffering from hunger and thirst, I do not think he would have been inclined to do us any harm. The Redskins are not all bad; and many, I fear, have been driven, by the ill treatment they have received from white men, to retaliate, and have obtained a worse character than they deserve."

"Dere are bad red men, and bad white men, and bad black men; but, me tink, not so many ob de last," said Rachel, who always stuck up for her own race.

The red man seemed to fancy that they were talking about him; and he tried to smile, but failed in the attempt. It was with difficulty, too, he could drag on his weary limbs.

As soon as they reached the house Rachel made him sit down; and within a minute or two a basin of broth was placed before him, at which she blew away until her cheeks almost cracked, in an endeavour to cool it, that he might the more speedily set to. He assisted her, as far as his strength would allow, in the operation; and then placing the basin to his lips, he eagerly drained off its contents, without making use of the wooden spoon with which she had supplied him.

"Dat just to keep body and soul togedder, till somet'ing more 'stantial ready for you," she said.

Clarice had in the meantime been preparing some venison steaks, which, with some cakes from the oven, were devoured by the Indian with the same avidity with which he had swallowed the broth. But although the food considerably revived him, he still showed evident signs of exhaustion; so Rachel, placing a buffalo robe in the corner of the room, invited him to lie down and rest. He staggered towards it, and in a few minutes his heavy breathing showed that he was asleep.

Uncle Jeff was somewhat astonished, when he came in, on seeing the Indian; but he approved perfectly of what Clarice and Rachel had done.

"To my mind," he observed, "when these Redskins choose to be enemies, we must treat them as enemies, and shoot them down, or they will be having our scalps; but if they wish to be friends, we should treat them as friends, and do them all the good we can."

Uncle Jeff forgot just then that we ought to do good to our enemies as well as to our friends; but that would be a difficult matter for a man to accomplish when a horde of savages are in arms, resolved to take his life; so I suppose it means that we must do them good when we can get them to be at peace—or to bury the war-hatchet, as they would express themselves.

The Indian slept on, although he groaned occasionally as if in pain,—nature then asserting its sway, though, had he been awake, he probably would have given no sign of what he was suffering.

"I suspect the man must be wounded," observed Uncle Jeff. "It will be better not to disturb him."

We had had supper, and the things were being cleared away, when, on going to look at the Indian, I saw that his eyes were open, and that he was gazing round him, astonished at seeing so many people.

"He is awake," I observed; and Clarice, coming up, made signs to inquire whether he would have some more food.

He shook his head, and lay back again, evidently unable to sit up.

Just then Uncle Jeff, who had been out, returned.

"I suspect that he is one of the Kaskayas, whose hunting-grounds are between this and the Platte," observed Uncle Jeff; and approaching the Indian, he stooped over him and spoke a few words in the dialect of the tribe he had mentioned.

The Indian answered him, although with difficulty.

"I thought so," said Uncle Jeff. "He has been badly wounded by an arrow in the side, and although he managed to cut it out and bind up the hurt, he confesses that he still suffers greatly. Here, Bartle, you are the best doctor among us," he added, turning to Won, who was at work mending some harness on the opposite side of the room; "see what you can do for the poor fellow."

Bartle put down the straps upon which he was engaged, and joined us, while Clarice retired. Uncle Jeff and Bartle then examined the Indian's side.

"I will get some leaves to bind over the wound to-morrow morning, which will quickly heal it; and, in the meantime, we will see if Rachel has not got some of the ointment which helped to cure Gideon when he cut himself so badly with his axe last spring."

Rachel, who prided herself on her ointment, quickly produced a jar of it, and assisted Bartle in dressing the Indian's wound. She then gave him a cooling mixture which she had concocted.

The Indian expressed his gratitude in a few words, and again covering himself up with a buffalo robe, was soon asleep.

The next morning he was better, but still unable to move.

He remained with us ten days, during which Clarice and Rachel watched over him with the greatest care, making him all sorts of dainty dishes which they thought he would like; and in that time he and Uncle Jeff managed to understand each other pretty well.

The Indian, according to the reticent habits of his people, was not inclined to be very communicative at first as to how he had received his wound; but as his confidence increased he owned that he had, with a party of his braves, made an excursion to the southward to attack their old enemies the Arrapahas, but that he and his followers had been overwhelmed by greatly superior numbers. His people had been cut off to a man, and himself badly wounded. He had managed, however, to make his escape to the mountains without being observed by his foes. As he knew that they were on the watch for him, he was afraid of returning to the plains, and had kept on the higher ground, where he had suffered greatly from hunger and thirst, until he had at length fallen in with Clarice at the spring.

At last he was able to move about; and his wound having completely healed, he expressed his wish to return to his people.

"Winnemak will ever be grateful for the kindness shown him by the Palefaces," he said, as he was wishing us good-bye. "A time may come when he may be able to show what he feels; he is one who never forgets his friends, although he may be far away from them."

"We shall be happy to see you whenever you come this way," said Uncle Jeff; "but as for doing us any good, why, we do not exactly expect that. We took care of you, as we should take care of any one who happened to be in distress and wanted assistance, whether a Paleface or a Redskin."

Winnemak now went round among us, shaking each person by the hand. When he came to Clarice he stopped, and spoke to her for some time,—although, of course, she could not understand a word he said.

Uncle Jeff, who was near, made out that he was telling her he had a daughter of her age, and that he should very much like to make them known to each other. "My child is called Maysotta, the 'White Lily;' though, when she sees you, she will say that that name ought to be yours," he added.

Clarice asked Uncle Jeff to tell Winnemak that she should be very glad to become acquainted with Maysotta whenever he could bring her to the farm.

Uncle Jeff was so pleased with the Indian, that he made him a present of a rifle and a stock of ammunition; telling him that he was sure he would ever be ready to use it in the service of his friends.

Winnemak's gratitude knew no bounds, and he expressed himself far more warmly than Indians are accustomed to do. Then bidding us farewell, he took his way to the north-east.

"I know these Indians pretty well," observed Bartle, as Winnemak disappeared in the distance. "We may see his face again when he wants powder and shot, but he will not trouble himself to come back until then."

We had begun to fancy that Bartle was right, for many months went by and we saw nothing of our Indian friend. Our surprise, therefore, was great, when he made his appearance in the manner I have described in an earlier portion of the chapter.

CHAPTER II.

WINNEMAK WARNS US OF THE APPROACH OF ENEMIES—BARTLE GOES OUT TO SCOUT—NO SIGNS OF A FOE—I TAKE THE LIEUTENANT TO VISIT "ROARING WATER"—BARTLE REPORTS THAT THE ENEMY HAVE TURNED BACK—THE LIEUTENANT DELAYED BY THE SERGEANT'S ILLNESS—THE VISIT TO THE HUT—A TIPSY TROOPER—KLITZ AND GILLOOLY MISSING—THE SERGEANT BECOMES WORSE—SEARCH FOR THE MISSING MEN—I OFFER TO ACT AS GUIDE TO THE LIEUTENANT—BARTLE UNDERTAKES TO FIND OUT WHAT HAS BECOME OF KLITZ AND BARNEY.

LAD to see you, friend!" said Uncle Jeff, getting up and taking the Indian by the hand. "What brings you here?"

"To prove that Winnemak has not forgotten the kindness shown him by the Palefaces," was the answer. "He has come to warn his friends, who sleep in security, that their enemies are on the war-path, and will ere long attempt to take their scalps."

"They had better not try that game," said Uncle Jeff; "if they do, they will find that they have made a mistake."

"The Redskins fight not as do the Palefaces; they try to take their enemies by surprise," answered Winnemak. "They will wait until they can find the white men scattered about over the farm, when they will swoop down upon them like the eagle on its prey; or when all are slumbering within, they will creep up to the house, and attack it before there is time for defence."

"Much obliged for your warning, friend," said Uncle Jeff; "but I should like to know more about these enemies, and where they are to be found. We might manage to turn the tables, and be down upon them when they fancy that we are all slumbering in security, and thus put them to the right-about."

"They are approaching as stealthily as the snake in the grass," answered Winnemak. "Unless you can get on their trail, it will be no easy matter to find them."

"Who are these enemies you speak of; and how do you happen to know that they are coming to attack us?" asked Uncle Jeff, who generally suspected all Indian reports, and fancied that Winnemak was merely repeating what he had heard, or, for some reason of his own—perhaps to gain credit to himself—had come to warn us of a danger which had no real existence.

"I was leading forth my braves to revenge the loss we suffered last year, when our scouts brought word that they had fallen in with a large war-party of Arrapahas and Apaches, far too numerous for our small band to encounter with any chance of success. We accordingly retreated, watching for an opportunity to attack any parties of the enemy who might become separated from the larger body. They also sent out their scouts, and one of these we captured. My braves were about to put him to death, but I promised him his liberty if he would tell me the object of the expedition. Being a man who was afraid to die, he told us that the party consisted of his own tribe and the Apaches, who had been joined by some Spanish Palefaces; and that their object was not to make war on either the Kaskayas or the Pawnees, but to rob a wealthy settler living on the side of the mountains, as well as any other white men they might find located in the neighbourhood. Feeling sure that their evil designs were against my friends, I directed my people to follow me, while I hastened forward to give you due warning of what is likely to happen. As they are very numerous, and have among them firearms and ammunition, it may be a hard task, should they attack the house, to beat them off."

Such in substance was the information Winnemak brought us.

"To my mind, the fellows will never dare to come so far north as this; or, if they do, they will think twice about it before they venture to attack our farm," answered Uncle Jeff.

"A wise man is prepared for anything which can possibly happen," said the Indian. "What is there to stop them? They are too numerous to be successfully opposed by any force of white men in these parts; and my braves are not willing to throw away their lives to no purpose."

Uncle Jeff thought the matter over. "I will send out a trusty scout to ascertain who these people are, and what they are about," he said at length. "If they are coming this way, we shall get ready to receive them; and if not, we need not further trouble ourselves."

Lieutenant Broadstreet, who held the Indians cheap, was very much inclined to doubt the truth of the account brought by Winnemak, but he agreed that Uncle Jeff's plan was a prudent one.

Bartle Won immediately volunteered to start off to try and find the whereabouts of the supposed marauding party. His offer was at once accepted; and before many minutes were over he had left the farm, armed with his trusty rifle, and his axe and hunting-knife in his belt.

"Take care they do not catch you," observed the lieutenant.

"If you knew Bartle, you would not give him such advice," said Uncle Jeff. "He is not the boy to be caught napping by Redskins; he is more likely to lay a dozen of them low than lose his own scalp."

The Indian seeing Bartle go, took his leave, saying that he would join his own people, who were to encamp, according to his orders, near a wood in the valley below. He too intended to keep a watch on the enemy; and should he ascertain that they were approaching, he would, he said, give us warning.

"We can trust to your assistance, should we be attacked," said Uncle Jeff; "or, if you will come with your people inside the house, you may help us in defending it."

Winnemak shook his head at the latter proposal. "We will aid you as far as we can with our small party," he answered; "but my people would never consent to shut themselves up within walls. They do not understand that sort of fighting. Trust to Winnemak; he will do all he can to serve you."

"We are very certain of that, friend," said Uncle Jeff.

The Indian, after once more shaking hands with us, set off to join his tribe.

Lieutenant Broadstreet expressed his satisfaction at having come to the farm. "If you are attacked, my four men and I may be of some use to you; for I feel sure that we shall quickly drive away the Redskins, however numerous they may be," he observed.

He advised that all the doors and lower windows should be barricaded, in case a surprise might be attempted; and that guards should be posted, and another scout sent out to keep watch near the house, in case Bartle might have missed the enemy, or any accident have happened to him. The latter Uncle Jeff deemed very unnecessary, so great was his confidence in Bartle's judgment and activity.

Notice was sent to the hut directing the men to come in should they be required, but it was not considered necessary for them to sleep inside the house.

These arrangements having been made, those not on watch retired to rest. But although Uncle Jeff took things so coolly, I suspect that he was rather more anxious than he wished it to appear. I know that I myself kept awake the greater part of the night, listening for any sounds which might indicate the approach of a foe, and ready to set out at a moment's notice with my rifle in hand,—which I had carefully loaded and placed by my bedside before I lay down. Several times I started up, fancying that I heard a distant murmur; but it was simply the roaring of the cataract coming down the cañon.

At daybreak I jumped up, and quickly dressing, went downstairs. Soon afterwards Gideon Tuttle, who had been scouting near the house, came in, stating that he had seen no light to the southward which would indicate the camp-fires of an enemy, and that, according to his belief, none was likely to appear. In this Uncle Jeff was inclined to agree with him.

Lieutenant Broadstreet now expressed a wish to proceed on his way; at the same time, he said that he did not like to leave us until it was certain that we were not likely to be exposed to danger.

"Much obliged to you, friend," said Uncle Jeff; "you are welcome to stay here as long as you please; and Bartle Won will soon be in, when we shall know all about the state of affairs."

It was our custom to breakfast at an early hour in the morning, as we had to be away looking after the cattle, and attending to the other duties of the farm.

The lieutenant happened to ask me why we called the location "Roaring Water."

"I see only a quiet, decent stream flowing by into the valley below," he observed.

"Wait until we have a breeze coming down the cañon, and then you will understand why we gave the name of 'Roaring Water' to this place," I answered. "As I can be spared this morning, and there is not much chance of the enemy coming, if you like to accompany me I will take you to the cataract which gives its name to this 'quiet, decent stream,' as you call it; then you will believe that we have not misnamed the locality."

We set off together. The lieutenant looked as if he would have liked to ask Clarice to accompany us; but she was busy about her household duties, and gave no response to his unspoken invitation.

Boy-like, I took a great fancy to the young officer. He was quiet and gentlemanly, and free from all conceit.

I took him to Cold-Water Spring, at which Clarice had met the Indian; and after swallowing a draught from it, we made our way onward over the rough rocks and fallen logs until we came in sight of what we called our cataract. It appeared directly before us, rushing, as it were, out of the side of the hill (though in reality there was a considerable stream above us, which was concealed by the summits of the intervening rocks); then downward it came in two leaps, striking a ledge about half-way, where masses of spray were sent off; and then taking a second leap, it fell into a pool; now rushing forth again foaming and roaring down a steep incline, until it reached the more level portion of the cañon.

"That is indeed a fine cataract, and you have well named your location from it," observed the lieutenant. "I wish I had had my sketch-book with me; I might have made a drawing of it, to carry away in remembrance of my visit here."

"ROARING WATER."

"I will send you one with great pleasure," I answered.

"Do you draw?" he asked, with a look of surprise, probably thinking that such an art was not likely to be possessed by a young backwoodsman.

"I learned when I was a boy, and I have a taste that way, although I have but little time to exercise it," I answered.

He replied that he should be very much obliged. "Does your sister draw?—I conclude that young lady is your sister?" he said in a tone of inquiry.

"Oh yes! Clarice draws better than I do," I said. "But she has even less time than I have, for she is busy from morning till night; there is no time to spare for amusement of any sort. Uncle Jeff would not approve of our 'idling our time,' as he would call it, in that sort of way."

The lieutenant seemed inclined to linger at the waterfall, so that I had to hurry him away, as I wanted to be back to attend to my duties. I was anxious, also, to hear what account Bartle Won would bring in.

But the day passed away, and Bartle did not appear. Uncle Jeff's confidence that he could have come to no harm was not, however, shaken.

"It may be that he has discovered the enemy, and is watching their movements; or perhaps he has been tempted to go on and on until he has found out that there is no enemy to be met with, or that they have taken the alarm and beat a retreat," he observed.

Still the lieutenant was unwilling to leave us, although Uncle Jeff did not press him to stay.

"It will never do for me to hurry off with my men, and leave a party of whites in a solitary farm to be slaughtered by those Redskin savages," he said.

At all events, he stayed on until the day was so far spent that it would not have been worth while to have started.

Clarice found a little leisure to sit down at the table with her needle-work, very much to the satisfaction of the lieutenant, who did his best to make himself agreeable.

I was away down the valley driving the cattle into their pen, when I caught sight of Bartle coming along at his usual swinging pace towards the farm.

"Well, what news?" I asked, as I came up to him.

"Our friend Winnemak was not romancing," he answered. "There were fully as many warriors on the war-path as he stated; but, for some reason or other, they turned about and are going south. I came upon their trail after they had broken up their last camp, and I had no difficulty in getting close enough to them to make out their numbers, and the tribes they belong to. The appearance of their camp, however, told me clearly that they are a very large body. We have to thank the chief for his warning; at the same time, we need not trouble ourselves any more on the subject."

"Have they done any harm on their march?" I asked.

"As to that, I am afraid that some settlers to the south have suffered; for I saw, at night, the glare of several fires, with which the rascals must have had something to do. I only hope that the poor white men had time to escape with their lives. If I had not been in a hurry to get back, I would have followed the varmints, and picked off any stragglers I might have come across."

"As you, my friends, are safe for the present, I must be off to-morrow morning with my men," said the lieutenant when I got back; "but I will report the position you are in at Fort Harwood, and should you have reason to expect an attack you can dispatch a messenger, and relief will, I am sure, be immediately sent you."

I do not know that Uncle Jeff cared much about this promise, so confident did he feel in his power to protect his own property,—believing that his men, though few, would prove staunch. But he thanked the lieutenant, and hoped he should have the pleasure of seeing him again before long.

During the night the sergeant was taken ill; and as he was no better in the morning, Lieutenant Broadstreet, who did not wish to go without him, was further delayed. The lieutenant hoped, however, that by noon the poor fellow might have sufficiently recovered to enable them to start.

After breakfast I accompanied him to the hut to visit the other men. Although he summoned them by name,—shouting out "Karl Klitz," "Barney Gillooly," "Pat Sperry,"—no one answered; so, shoving open the door, we entered. At first the hut appeared to be empty, but as we looked into one of the bunks we beheld the last-named individual, so sound asleep that, though his officer shouted to him to know what had become of his comrades, he only replied by grunts.

"The fellow must be drunk," exclaimed the lieutenant, shaking the man.

This was very evident; and as the lieutenant intended not to set off immediately, he resolved to leave him in bed to sleep off his debauch.

But what had become of the German and the fat Irishman? was the question. The men belonging to the hut were all away, so we had to go in search of one of them, to learn if he could give any account of the truants. The negro, who went by no other name than Sam or Black Sam, was the first we met. Sam averred, on his honour as a gentleman, that when he left the hut in the morning they were all sleeping as quietly as lambs; and he concluded that they had gone out to take a bath in the stream, or a draught of cool water at the spring. The latter the lieutenant thought most probable, if they had been indulging in potations of whisky on the previous evening; as to bathing, none of them were likely to go and indulge in such a luxury.

To Cold-Water Spring we went; but they were not to be seen, nor could the other men give any account of them.

The lieutenant burst into a fit of laughter, not unmixed with vexation.

"A pretty set of troops I have to command—my sergeant sick, one drunk, and two missing."

"Probably Klitz and Gillooly have only taken a ramble, and will soon be back," I observed; "and by that time the other fellow will have recovered from his tipsy fit; so it is of no use to be vexed. You should be more anxious about Sergeant Custis, for I fear he will not be able to accompany you for several days to come."

On going back to the house, we found the sergeant no better. Rachel, indeed, said that he was in a raging fever, and that he must have suffered from a sunstroke, or something of that sort.

The lieutenant was now almost in despair; and though the dispatches he carried were not of vital importance, yet they ought, he said, to be delivered as soon as possible, and he had already delayed two days. As there was no help for it, however, and he could not at all events set out until his men came back, I invited him to take a fishing-rod and accompany me to a part of the stream where, although he might not catch many fish, he would at all events enjoy the scenery.

It was a wild place; the rocks rose to a sheer height of two or three hundred feet above our heads, broken into a variety of fantastic forms. In one place there was a cleft in the rock, out of which the water flowed into the main stream. The lieutenant, who was fond of fishing, was soon absorbed in the sport, and, as I expected, forgot his troubles about his men.

He had caught several trout and a couple of catfish, when I saw Rachel hurrying towards us.

"Massa Sergeant much worse," she exclaimed; "him fear him die; want bery much to see him officer, so I come away while Missie Clarice watch ober him. Him bery quiet now,—no fear ob him crying out for present."

On hearing this, we gathered up our fishing-rods and hastened back to the house, considerably out-walking Rachel, who came puffing after us.

We found Clarice standing by the bedside of the sick man, moistening his parched lips, and driving away the flies from his face.

"I am afraid I am going, sir," he said as the lieutenant bent over him. "Before I die, I wish to tell you that I do not trust those two men of ours, Karl Klitz and Gillooly. I learned from Pat Sperry that they have been constantly putting their heads together of late, and he suspects that they intend either to desert, or to do some mischief or other."

"Thank you," said the lieutenant; "but do not trouble yourself about such matters now. I will look after the men. You must try to keep your mind quiet. I hope that you are not going to die, as you suppose. I have seen many men look much worse than you do, and yet recover."

The sergeant, after he had relieved his mind, appeared to be more quiet. Rachel insisted on his taking some of her remedies; and as evening drew on he was apparently better,—at all events, no worse. Clarice and the negress were unremitting in their attentions, utterly regardless of the fever being infectious; I do not think, indeed, that the idea that it was so ever entered their heads.

OUR TROUT-STREAM IN ROARING WATER CANON.

The lieutenant had been so occupied with his poor sergeant, that he seemed to have forgotten all about his missing men. At last, however, he recollected them, and I went back with him to the hut.

On the way we looked into the stables, where we found the five horses and baggage mules all right; so that the men, if they had deserted, must have done so on foot.

We opened the door of the hut, hoping that possibly by this time the missing men might have returned; but neither of them was there. The drunken fellow was, however, still sleeping on, and probably would have slept on until his hut companions came back, had we not roused him up.

"You must take care that your people do not give him any more liquor, or he will be in the same state to-morrow morning," observed the lieutenant.

We had some difficulty in bringing the man to his senses; but the lieutenant finding a pitcher of water, poured the contents over him, which effectually roused him up.

"Hullo! murther! are we all going to be drowned entirely at the bottom? Sure the river's burst over us!" he exclaimed, springing out of his bunk. He looked very much astonished at seeing the lieutenant and me; but quickly bringing himself into position, and giving a military salute, "All right, your honour," said he.

"Yes, I see that you are so now," said the lieutenant; "but little help you could have afforded us, had we been attacked by the enemy. I must call you to account by-and-by. What has become of your comrades?"

"Sure, your honour, are they not all sleeping sweetly as infants in their bunks?" He peered as he spoke into the bunks which had been occupied by the other men. "The drunken bastes, it was there I left them barely two hours ago, while I jist turned in to get a quiet snooze. They are not there now, your honour," he observed, with a twinkle in his eye; "they must have gone out unbeknown to me. It is mighty surprising!"

"Why, you impudent rascal, you have been asleep for the last twelve hours," said the lieutenant, scarcely able to restrain his gravity. "Take care that this does not happen again; keep sober while you remain here."

"Sure, your honour, I would not touch a dhrop of the cratur, even if they were to try and pour it down me throat," he answered. "But I found a countryman of mine living here. It is a hard matter, when one meets a boy from Old Ireland, to refuse jist a sip of the potheen for the sake of gintility!"

"Follow me to the house as soon as you have put yourself into decent order," said the lieutenant, not wishing to exchange further words with the trooper.

Pat touched his hat, to signify that he would obey the order, and the lieutenant and I walked on.

"I cannot put that fellow under arrest, seeing that I have no one to whom I can give him in charge," said the lieutenant, laughing. "But what can have become of the others? I do not think, notwithstanding what Sergeant Custis said, that they can have deserted. They would scarcely make an attempt to get over this wild country alone, and on foot."

As soon as Pat made his appearance, the lieutenant ordered him to stand on guard at the door, where he kept him until nightfall.

When our men came in, I inquired whether they knew anything of the troopers. They one and all averred that they had left them sleeping in the hut, and that they had no notion where they could have gone.

"Could the fellows, when probably as drunk as Pat, have fallen into the torrent and been drowned!" exclaimed the lieutenant anxiously.

"Sure, they were as sober as judges," observed Dan, one of our men. Then an idea seemed to strike him. "To be sure, your honour, they might have gone fishing up the stream. That broth of a boy Barney might jist have rolled in, and the long Dutchman have tried to haul him out, and both have been carried away together. Ill luck to Roaring Water, if it has swallowed up my countryman Barney."

I suspected, from the way in which Dan spoke, that he had no great belief that such a catastrophe had occurred; in fact, knowing the fellow pretty well, I thought it very probable that, notwithstanding what he said, he was cognizant of the whereabouts of the truants.

Uncle Jeff and the lieutenant examined and cross-examined all the men; but no satisfactory information could be got out of them.

"Whether they come back or not, I must be on my way to-morrow morning with Sperry; while I leave my sergeant under your care, if you will take charge of him," said the lieutenant.

Uncle Jeff willingly undertook to do this.

"As you are unacquainted with the way, and Pat is not likely to be of much assistance, if Uncle Jeff will allow me I will act as your guide to the mouth of the pass, after which you will have no great difficulty in finding your way to Fort Harwood," I said to the lieutenant.

He gladly accepted my offer.

"But what about the possibility of the farm being attacked by the Indians? You would not like in that case to be absent, and I should be unwilling to deprive your friends of your aid," he observed. "If you accompany me, I must leave Sperry to attend on Sergeant Custis, and to come on with him when he is well enough. Although I do not compare the Irishman to you, yet, should the farm be attacked, I can answer for his firing away as long as he has a bullet left in his pouch."

Uncle Jeff, much to my satisfaction, allowed me to accompany the lieutenant. I had a good horse, too, and had no fears about making my way back safely, even should the country be swarming with Indians.

When the lieutenant spoke of the possibility of the farm being attacked by the Redskins, Uncle Jeff laughed. "They will not venture thus far," he observed. "But even if they do come, we will give a good account of them. Not to speak of my rifle, Bartle's and Gideon's are each worth fifty muskets in the hands of the Indians; our other four fellows, with your trooper, will keep the rest at bay, however many there may be of them. The sergeant, too, will be able to handle a rifle before long, I hope; while Clarice and Rachel will load the arms, and look after any of us who may be hurt. But we need not talk about that; the varmints will not trouble us, you may depend upon it."

When Bartle Won heard of the disappearance of the troopers, and that we had examined our men, but had been unable to elicit any information from them as to what had become of the truants, he observed,—"Leave that to me. If they know anything about the matter, I will get it out of them before long. As to the fellows having tumbled into the torrent, I do not believe it. They are not likely to have gone off without our people knowing something about it. They are either in hiding somewhere near Roaring Water,—and if so, I shall soon ferret them out,—or else they have gone away to take squaws from among the Indians, and set up for themselves."

The lieutenant did not think that the latter proceeding was very probable; but their absence was mysterious, and we had to confess that we were no wiser as to their whereabouts than we were at first.

CHAPTER III.

MY FAMILY HISTORY—MY FATHER, ONCE A CAPTAIN IN THE BRITISH ARMY, COMES TO AMERICA AND MARRIES UNCLE JEFF'S SISTER—HE SETTLES ON A FARM IN OHIO—CLARICE AND I ARE BORN—MY GRANDFATHER'S FARM DESTROYED BY A FLOOD—THE NEXT YEAR OUR FARM IS BURNT—MY FATHER RESOLVES TO MIGRATE TO THE WEST—WE SET OFF IN WAGGONS WITH AN EMIGRANT TRAIN—PROSPEROUS COMMENCEMENT OF JOURNEY—PROVISIONS RUN SHORT—I WITNESS A BUFFALO HUNT—THE EMIGRANTS SUFFER FROM CHOLERA—MY MOTHER DIES—MANY OF THE EMIGRANTS TURN BACK—MY FATHER PERSEVERES—FIERCELY ATTACKED BY INDIANS—WE KEEP THEM AT BAY—AGAIN ATTACKED, WHEN A STRANGER COMES TO OUR ASSISTANCE—CLARICE GIVES HIM A BOOK—HE PROMISES TO READ IT—WE CONTINUE OUR JOURNEY, AND REACH FORT KEARNEY—REMAIN THERE FOR SOME MONTHS—MY FATHER, THOUGH STILL SUFFERING, INSISTS ON SETTING OUT AGAIN—HE SOON BECOMES WORSE, AND DIES—I AM DIGGING HIS GRAVE, WHEN AN EMIGRANT TRAIN COMES BY—UNCLE JEFF IS THE LEADER, AND WE ACCOMPANY HIM TO ROARING WATER.

UT the readers of my Journal, if so I may venture to call it, would like to know how Clarice and I came to be at Uncle Jeff's farm. To do so, I must give a little bit of my family history, which probably would not otherwise interest them.

My father, Captain Middlemore, had been an officer in the English army, but sold out and came to America. Being, I suspect, of a roving disposition, he had travelled through most of the Eastern States without finding any spot where he could make up his mind to settle. At length he bent his steps to Ohio; in the western part of which he had one night to seek shelter from a storm at the farm of a substantial settler, a Mr. Ralph Crockett (the father of Uncle Jeff). Mr. Crockett treated the English stranger with a hospitality which the farmers of Ohio never failed to show to their guests. He had several sons, but he spoke of one who seemed to have a warm place in his heart, and who had gone away some years before, and was leading a wild hunter's life on the prairies.

"I should like to fall in with him," said my father. "It is the sort of life I have a fancy for leading,—hunting the buffalo and fighting the Red Indian."

"Better stay and settle down among us, stranger," said Mr. Crockett. "In a few years, if you turn to with a will, and have some little money to begin with, you will be a wealthy man, with broad acres of your own, and able to supply the Eastern States with thousands of bushels of wheat. It is a proud thing to feel that we feed, not only the people of our own land, but many who would be starving, if it were not for us, in that tax-burdened country of yours."

My father laughed at the way in which the Ohio farmer spoke of Old England; but notwithstanding that, he thought the matter over seriously. He was influenced not a little, too, I have an idea, by the admiration he felt for the farmer's only daughter, Mary Crockett.

My father had the price of his commission still almost intact; and it was looked upon as almost a princely fortune to begin with in that part of the world. So, as he received no hint to go,—indeed, he was warmly pressed to stay whenever he spoke of moving,—he stayed, and stayed on. At last he asked Mary Crockett to become his wife, and promised to settle down on the nearest farm her father could obtain for him.

Mr. Crockett applauded his resolution; and he purchased a farm which happened to be for sale only a few miles off, and gave him his daughter for a wife. She had gone to school in Philadelphia, where she had gained sufficient accomplishments to satisfy my father's fastidious taste; and she was, besides being very pretty, a Christian young woman.

She often spoke of her brother Jeff with warm affection, for he, when at home, had ever showed himself to be a loving, kind brother; indeed, Mary was his pet, and if anybody could have induced him to lead a settled life, she might have done it. He had had, somehow or other, a quarrel with her one day,—little more than a tiff,—so off he went into the woods and across the prairies; and, as it turned out, he never came back. She was not the cause of his going, for he had been thinking about it for a long time before, but this tiff just set the ball rolling.

My parents were perfectly happy in their married life, and might have remained so had it not been for my poor father's unsettled disposition. I was born, then Clarice; and both my father and mother devoted all the time they could spare from the duties of the farm to our education. Clarice was always a bright, intelligent little creature, and rapidly took in all the instruction she received. My mother's only unhappiness arose from the thought of sending her to Philadelphia,—where she might have to complete her education, as she wished her to become as perfect a lady as our father was a thorough gentleman. He, being well informed, was able to instruct me, and I made as much progress as my sister. Rough in some respects as were our lives, we found the advantage of this, as we could enjoy many amusements from which we should otherwise have been debarred. Clarice learned to play and sing from our mother; and I was especially fond of drawing, an art in which my father was well able to instruct me.

But our family, hitherto prosperous, were now to suffer severe reverses. My grandfather's property lay in a rich bottom, and one early spring the floods came and swept away his corn-fields, destroyed his meadows, and carried off his cattle. One of my uncles was drowned at that time, another died of fever caught from exposure, and a third was killed by the fall of a tree. The old man did not complain at God's dealing with him, for he was a true Christian, but he bowed his head; and he died shortly afterwards, at our house. My father's property had escaped the floods, but the following summer, which was an unusually dry one, a fire swept over the country. It reached our farm, and although my father had timely notice, so that he was able to put my mother and us into one of the waggons, with the most valuable part of his household property, the rest was enveloped in flames shortly after we had left the house. The next day not a building, not a fence, remained standing. The whole farm was a scene of black desolation.

"We have had a pretty strong hint to move westward, which I have long been thinking of doing," said my father. "Many who have gone to the Pacific coast have become possessed of wealth in half the time we have taken to get this farm in order. What do you say, Mary?"

Our mother was always ready to do whatever he wished, although she would rather have remained in the part of the country where she was born and still had many friends.

"I should say, let us go eastward, and purchase a small farm in some more civilized district; we can then send our children to school, and be able to see them during the holidays," she observed.

"We ourselves can give them such schooling as they require," replied my father. "You will make Clarice as accomplished as yourself, and I will take good care of Ralph. It is not book learning a lad requires to get on in this country. He is a good hand at shooting and fishing, understands all sorts of farm work, and is as good a rider as any boy of his age. He will forget all these accomplishments if we go eastward; whereas if we move westward, he will improve still more. And as he is as sharp as a Yankee, he will do well enough in whatever line he follows."

The truth was, my father had made up his mind to go in the direction he proposed, and was not to be turned aside by any arguments, however sensible, which my mother might offer. So it was settled that we should make a long journey across the prairie. As for the difficulties and dangers to be encountered, or the hardships to which my mother and Clarice would be exposed, he did not take these into consideration. There are people with minds so constituted that they only see one side of a question; and my father was unhappily one of these.

He proposed to unite himself with some respectable party of emigrants, who would travel together for mutual protection. He considered that they might thus set at defiance any band of Indians, however numerous, which they might encounter.

The two farms were no doubt much inferior in value to what they would have been with buildings, outhouses and fencings, standing crops and stock; yet, even as they stood, they were worth a good sum, for they were already cleared—the chief work of the settler being thus done. However, they realized as much as my father expected, and with a well-equipped train and several hired attendants we set out.

The first part of our journey was tolerably easy; the emigrants were good-humoured, we had abundance of provisions, the country was well watered, and the cattle could obtain plenty of rich grass to keep up their strength. But as soon as we got out of the more civilized districts our difficulties began. Some of the rivers were very difficult to cross, and often there was no small danger of the waggons sticking fast in some spots, or being carried down by the current in others; then we had hills to surmount and rocky ground to pass over, where there was no herbage or water for our beasts.

My father kept aloof as much as possible from the other emigrants, so that we did not hear of the complaints they were making. At last a rumour reached us that the owners of several of the waggons were talking of turning back. We had met at different times two or three trains of people who had given up the journey, and these had declared that the hardships were greater than any human beings could bear; but my father had made up his mind, and go on he would, even if he carried his own waggons alone over the prairie. A few Indians hovered round us at times, but our rifle-shots warned them to keep off; and at night we encamped, under my father's direction, in military fashion, with the waggons placed so as to form a fortification round the camp.

Our fresh provisions had come to an end, too, and it now became very important that we should procure game.

We had encamped one evening, when several Indians approached, making signs that they were friends. They proved to belong to a tribe which had been at peace with the white people. Our guide knew one of them, and we had no doubt that they could be trusted. They have long since been driven from their old hunting-grounds, and I forget even the name of the tribe. When they heard that we were in want of fresh food, they said that if any of our hunters would accompany them they would show us where buffalo could be found; and that we might either shoot them ourselves, or that they would try to kill some for us.

Few of our people, although hardy backwoodsmen, were accustomed to hunting; and few, indeed, had ever seen any buffalo. But my father, feeling the importance of obtaining some fresh meat, volunteered to go,—directing a light cart to follow, in order to bring back our game,—and I obtained leave to accompany him.

One of the Indians could speak English sufficiently well to make himself understood by us. Talking to my father, and finding that even he had never shot any buffalo, the Indian advised that we should allow him and his people to attack the herd in their own manner, as the animals might take alarm before we could get up to them, and escape us altogether. My father agreed to this, saying that, should they fail, he would be ready with his rifle to ride after the herd and try to bring down one or more of them. This plan was agreed to, and we rode forward.

I observed our Indian friend dismount and put his ear to the ground several times as we rode forward. My father asked him why he did this. He replied that it was to ascertain how far off the buffalo were: he could judge of the distance by the sound of their feet, and their occasional roars as the bulls engaged in combat. Not an animal, however, was yet visible.

At last we caught sight of a number of dark objects moving on the prairie in the far distance.

"There is the herd!" exclaimed the Indian; "we must now be wary how we approach."

Still we went on, the animals being too busily engaged in grazing, or in attacking each other, to observe us. At last the Indian advised that we should halt behind a knoll which rose out of the plain, with a few bushes on the summit. Here we could remain concealed from the herd. So, having gained the foot of the knoll, we dismounted; and leaving our horses in charge of the men with the cart, my father and I climbed up to the top, where by crouching down we were unseen by the herd, although we could observe all that was going forward.

The Indian hunters now took some wolf-skins which had been hanging to their saddles, and completely covering themselves up, so as to represent wolves, they began to creep towards the herd, trailing their rifles at their sides; thus they got nearer and nearer the herd. Whenever any of the animals stopped to look at them, they stopped also; when the buffalo went on feeding, they advanced. At length each hunter, having selected a cow, suddenly sprang to his knees and fired, and three fine animals rolled over; though, had the buffalo bulls known their power, they might, with the greatest ease, have crushed their human foes. On hearing the shots, the whole herd took to flight.

"Well done!" cried my father. "I should like to have another, though;" and hurrying down the hill, he mounted his horse and galloped off in chase of the retreating herd.

Heavy and clumsy as the animals looked, so rapidly did they rush over the ground that he could only get within range of two or three of the rearmost. Pulling up, he fired; but the buffalo dashed on; and, unwilling to fatigue his horse, my father came back, somewhat annoyed at his failure.

INDIAN MODE OF ATTACKING BUFFALO.

The three animals which had been killed were quickly cut up, and we loaded our cart with the meat; after which the Indians accompanied us back to the camp to receive the reward we had promised. The supply of fresh meat was very welcome, and helped to keep sickness at a distance for some time longer.

After this we made several days' journey, the supply of fresh provisions putting all hands into better spirits than they had shown for some time. There was but little chance, however, of our replenishing our stock when that was exhausted, for we saw Indians frequently hovering round our camp who were not likely to prove as friendly as those we had before met with, and it would be dangerous to go to any distance in search of game, as there was a probability of our being cut off by them.

We had soon another enemy to contend with, more subtile than even the Redskins. Cholera broke out among the emigrants, and one after another succumbed. This determined those who had before talked of going back to carry out their intentions; and notwithstanding the expostulations of my father and others, they turned round the heads of their cattle, and back they went over the road we had come.

I had by this time observed that my mother was not looking so well as usual. One night she became very ill, and in spite of all my father and two kind women of our party could do for her, before morning she was dead. My father appeared inconsolable; and, naturally, Clarice and I were very unhappy. We would willingly have died with her.

"But we must not complain at what God ordains," said Clarice; "we must wish to live, to be of use to poor papa. She is happy, we know; she trusted in Christ, and has gone to dwell with him."

Clarice succeeded better than I did in soothing our poor father's grief. I thought that he himself would now wish to go back, but he was too proud to think of doing that. He had become the acknowledged leader of the party, and the sturdy men who remained with us were now all for going forward; so, after we had buried our dear mother in a grove of trees which grew near the camp, and had built a monument of rough stones over her grave, to mark the spot, we once more moved forward.

We had just formed our camp the next day, in a more exposed situation than usual, when we saw a party of mounted Indians hovering in the distance. My father, who had not lifted his head until now, gave orders for the disposal of the waggons as could best be done. There were not sufficient to form a large circle, however, so that our fortifications were less strong than they had before been. We made the cattle graze as close to the camp as possible, so that they might be driven inside at a moment's notice; and of course we kept strict watch, one half of the men only lying down at a time.

The night had almost passed away without our being assailed, when just before dawn those on watch shouted out,—

"Here they are! Up, up, boys! get in the cattle—quick!"

Just as the last animal was driven inside our fortifications the enemy were upon us. We received them with a hot fire, which emptied three saddles; when, according to their fashion, they lifted up their dead or wounded companions and carried them off out of the range of our rifles.

Our men shouted, thinking that they had gained the victory; but the Indians were only preparing for another assault. Seeing the smallness of our numbers, they were persuaded that they could overwhelm us; and soon we caught sight of them moving round so as to encircle our camp, and thus attack us on all sides at once.

"Remember the women and children," cried my father, whose spirit was now aroused. "If we give in, we and they will be massacred; so we can do nothing but fight to the last."

The men shouted, and vowed to stand by each other.

Before the Indians, however, got within range of our rifles, they wheeled round and galloped off again; but we could still see them hovering round us. It was pretty evident that they had not given up the intention of attacking us; their object being to weary us out, and make our hearts, as they would call it, turn pale.

Just before the sun rose above the horizon they once more came on, decreasing the circumference of the circle, and gradually closing in upon us; not at a rapid rate, however, but slowly—sometimes so slowly that they scarcely appeared to move.

"Do not fire, friends, until you can take good aim," cried my father, as the enemy got within distant rifle range. "It is just what they wish us to do; then they will come charging down upon us, in the hope of finding our rifles unloaded. Better let them come sufficiently near to see their eyes; alternate men of you only fire."

The savages were armed only with bows and spears; still they could shoot their arrows, we knew, when galloping at full speed.

At a sign from one of their leaders they suddenly put their horses to full speed, at the same time giving vent to what I can only describe as a mingling of shrieks and shouts and howls, forming the terrific Indian war-whoop. They were mistaken, however, if they expected to frighten our sturdy backwoodsmen. The first of our men fired when they were about twenty yards off. Several of the red warriors were knocked over, but the rest came on, shooting their arrows, and fancying that they had to attack men with empty firearms. The second shots were full in their faces, telling therefore with great effect; while our people raised a shout, which, if not as shrill, was almost as telling as that of the Indian war-whoop. The first men who had fired were ramming away with all their might to reload, and were able to deliver a second fire; while those who had pistols discharged them directly afterwards.

The Indians, supposing that our party, although we had but few waggons, must be far more numerous than they had expected, wheeled round without attempting to break through the barricade, and galloped off at full speed,—not even attempting to pick up those who had fallen.

The women and children, with Clarice, I should have said, had been protected by a barricade of bales and chests; so that, although a number of arrows had flown into our enclosure, not one of them was hurt.

On looking at my father, I saw that he was paler than usual; and what was my dismay to find that an arrow had entered his side! It was quickly cut out, although the operation caused him much suffering. He declared, however, that it was only a flesh wound, and not worth taking into consideration.

The Indians being still near us, we thought it only too probable that we should again be attacked. And, indeed, our anticipations were soon fully realized. In less than half an hour, after having apparently been reinforced, they once more came on, but this time with the intention of attacking only one side.

We were looking about us, however, in every direction, to ascertain what manœuvres they might adopt, when we saw to the westward another body of horsemen coming across the prairie.

"We are to have a fresh band of them upon us," cried some of our party.

"No, no," I shouted out; "they are white men! I see their rifle barrels glancing in the sun; and there are no plumes above their heads!"

I was right; and before many minutes were over the Indians had seen them too, and, not liking their looks, had galloped off to the southward.

We received the strangers with cheers as they drew near; and they proved to be a large body of traders.

"We heard your shots, and guessed that those Pawnee rascals were upon you," said their leader, as he dismounted.

He came up to where my father was lying by the side of the waggon.

"I am sorry to see that you are hurt, friend," he said. "Any of the rest of your people wounded? If there are, and your party will come on to our camp, we will render you all the assistance in our power."

"Only two of our men have been hit, and that but slightly; and my wound is nothing," answered my father. "We are much obliged to you, however."

"Well, at all events I would advise you to harness your beasts and move on, or these fellows will be coming back again," said the stranger. "We too must not stay here long, for if they think that our camp is left unguarded they may pay it a visit." His eye, as he was speaking, fell on Clarice. "Why! my little maiden, were you not frightened at seeing those fierce horsemen galloping up to your camp?" he asked.

CLARICE AND THE STRANGER.

"No," she answered simply; "I trusted in God, for I knew that he would take care of us."

The stranger gazed at her with surprise, and said something which made her look up.

"Why! don't you always trust in God?" she asked.

"I don't think much about him; and I don't suppose he thinks much about such a wild fellow as I am," he said in a careless tone.

"I wish you would, then," she said; "nobody can be happy if they do not trust in God and accept his offer of salvation, because they cannot feel secure for a moment without his love and protection; and they will not know where they are to go to when they die."

"I have not thought about that," said the stranger, in the same tone as before; "and I do not suppose I am likely to find it out."

"Then let me give you a book," said Clarice, "which will tell you all about it."

She went to the waggon, and brought out a small Bible.

"There! If you will read that, and do what it tells, you will become wise and happy."

"Well, my dear, I will accept your book, and do as you advise me. I once knew something about the Bible, before I left home, years and years ago; but I have not looked into one since."

Without opening the book, the stranger placed it in his breast-pocket; then, after exchanging a few words with my father, who promised to follow his advice, he left the camp and rejoined his companions.

My father, being unable to ride without difficulty, had himself placed in the waggon by the side of Clarice; and the animals being put to, we once more moved on to the westward, while we saw our late visitors take an easterly course.

My father, however, made but slow progress towards recovery; his wound was more serious than he had supposed, and it was too clear that he was in a very unfit state to undergo the fatigue of a journey.

We at length reached Fort Kearney, on the Platte River, where we met with a kind reception from the officers of the garrison, while my father received that attention from the surgeon he so much required. The rest of our party were unwilling to delay longer than was necessary; but the surgeon assured my father that he would risk his life should he continue, in the state in which he then was, to prosecute his journey. Very unwillingly, therefore, he consented to remain,—for our sakes more than his own,—while our late companions proceeded towards their destination. We here remained several months, of course at great expense, as both our men and animals had to be fed, although we ourselves were entertained without cost by our hospitable hosts.

At last another emigrant train halted at the post, and my father, unwilling longer to trespass on the kindness of his entertainers, insisted on continuing his journey with them. The surgeon warned him that he would do so at great risk; observing that should the wound, which was scarcely healed, break out again, it would prove a serious matter. Still, his desire to be actively engaged in forming the new settlement prevailed over all other considerations, and on a fatal day he started, in company with about a dozen other waggons. The owners, who were rough farmers, took very little interest either in my poor father or in us.

We had been travelling for about ten days or a fortnight when my father again fell ill. He tried to proceed in the waggon, but was unable to bear the jolting; and we were at length obliged to remain in camp by ourselves, while the rest of the train continued on the road. Our camp was pitched in an angle formed by a broad stream on the side of a wood, so that we were pretty well protected should enemies on horseback attack us. My father proposed to remain here to await another emigrant train, hoping in a short time to be sufficiently recovered to move on. But, to our great grief, Clarice and I saw that he was rapidly sinking. He himself did not appear to be aware of his condition; and fearing that it would aggravate his sufferings were he to think he was about to leave us, young as we were, in the midst of the wild prairie among strangers, we were unwilling to tell him what we thought.

The men with us began to grumble at the long delay, and declared their intention of moving forward with the next emigrant train which should come by. But what was our dismay, one morning, to find that both the villains had gone, carrying off the cart, and a considerable amount of our property! We were not aware at this time, however, that they had managed to get hold of the chest which contained our money. Our father was so ill, too, that we did not tell him what had occurred; and that very evening, as Clarice and I were sitting by his side holding his hands, he ceased to breathe.

At first we could not persuade ourselves that he was dead. That was indeed a terrible night. I felt, however, that something must be done, and that the first thing was to bury our poor father. We had spades and pick-axes in the waggon, so, taking one of each, I commenced my melancholy task near the banks of a stream.

I was thus engaged when I heard Clarice cry out; and on looking up I saw a small emigrant train passing, which must have been encamped at no great distance from us down the river. Fearing that they might pass without observing us, I ran forward shouting out, entreating the leader to stop. The train immediately came to a standstill, and a man advanced towards me, in whom I soon recognized the person to whom Clarice had given the book many months before.

"Why, my man," he said, "I thought I knew you! How are your sister and your father? He had got an ugly hurt, I recollect, when I saw him."

"He is just dead," I answered.

"Dead!" he exclaimed; "and are you two young ones left on the prairie alone?"

"Yes," I replied; "our men have made off, and I was going to beg you to take us along with you."

"That I will do right gladly," said the stranger.

When I told him how I was engaged, he immediately sent some of his men, and they at once set to work and dug a deep grave. Our poor father having then been placed in it, they raised over it a pile of heavy logs.

"I wish we could have done better for him," said the stranger; "but many a fine fellow sleeps under such a monument as that."

I need not dwell upon our grief as we watched these proceedings. I was sure that the sooner Clarice was away from the spot the better it would be for her; so, as the leader of the emigrant train did not wish to delay longer than was necessary, I assisted in harnessing the animals to our waggon, and we at once moved on.

I was walking beside our new friend, when he asked me my name.

"Ralph Middlemore," I replied; "and my sister is called Clarice."

"Ralph!" repeated the stranger; "that was my father's name."

"I was called after my grandfather," I observed,—"Ralph Crockett."

I do not know how I came to say that. My companion started, and gazing at me attentively, asked,—"What was your mother's name?"

"Mary."

"Where is she now?" he inquired eagerly.

"She died after we began this sad journey," I said.

The stranger was silent, stifling some deep emotion.

"Your sister is like her,—very like what she was at the same age. You have heard of Jeff Crockett, boy? I am your Uncle Jeff; and though I have much to mourn for, I thank Heaven I was sent to rescue Mary's children in their distress. And Clarice! she has been to me as an angel of light. You remember that she gave me a book. I took it to please her, not intending to read it; but I did read it, and it showed me what I was—a wretched, lost sinner. I learned that I was like the prodigal son; and as I heard that my earthly father was no more, I determined to go to my Heavenly Father, knowing that he would receive me. He has done so, and I can now say honestly that I am a Christian, and fit to take charge of Mary's children."

I need say very little more than that from this time Uncle Jeff constituted himself our guardian, and that we thankfully accompanied him to the new location he was forming at Roaring Water.

And now I shall resume my narrative at the point at which I interrupted it to give the reader a bit of my family history.

CHAPTER IV.

AS THE LIEUTENANT AND I ARE STARTING, WE HEAR THAT KLITZ AND BARNEY HAVE GONE OFF WITH A WHEELBARROW FOR CALIFORNIA—A PLEASANT BIVOUAC—AT LAST WE CATCH SIGHT OF THE DESERTERS—THE LIEUTENANT IS ABOUT TO RIDE AFTER THEM, WHEN A PARTY OF INDIANS APPEAR—THE INDIANS TAKE TO FLIGHT, AND WE LOSE SIGHT OF THE RUNAWAYS—FORM OUR CAMP—DISCOVER THAT WE ARE WATCHED—FOLLOW THE SPY, WHO PROVES TO BE MAYSOTTA—FIND THE DESERTERS TAKING THEIR EASE—WE CAPTURE THEM, AND, GUIDED BY MAYSOTTA, TAKE THEM TO THE INDIAN CAMP—RESOLVE TO RETURN TO THE FARM.

HE lieutenant and I had arranged to start at daybreak, on horseback, with a couple of baggage mules carrying provisions and camp utensils. Clarice was up to give us our breakfast, and I heard the lieutenant tell her how much he hoped to meet her again.

"Not very likely, in this wild region," she answered with perfect composure, although a slight blush came to her cheek as she spoke.

The lieutenant having given directions to Pat to remain and do his duty,—charging him not to get drunk again, and to come on with the sergeant as soon as he was able to travel,—we were on the point of mounting our horses, when Bartle came up.

"I thought that I should get something out of our fellows," he said. "Of all the strange things I have ever heard of people doing, the strangest is what your two troopers are attempting. It seems that the Dutchman and the Irish chap have taken possession of one of our wheelbarrows and a couple of pick-axes and spades, with such other things as they had a fancy for, and have gone off, expecting to make their way to California, where, it is said, gold can be had to any amount by digging for it."

"The rascals!" exclaimed the lieutenant; "they will not get there in a hurry, and we shall probably come up with them before long."

"They have had a good many days' start of you," observed Bartle, "and if they have kept on going, they must be some distance on their road by this time."

"Then we must push on all the faster," said the lieutenant. "I should like to catch the fellows before the Indians take their scalps; although, when we have got them, it will be difficult to know what to do with them, as they will delay me while they move slowly along on foot."

"Send them back to us; we will soon show them how to use their picks and spades," said Bartle.

After the usual hand-shaking at parting, and the lieutenant had once more lifted his cap to Clarice, who stood at the door watching us, we set off down the hill, each of us leading a baggage mule by the bridle.

Every inch of the way, for some miles, was known to me, so that we could move on without troubling ourselves about the road. We had occasionally hills to go over, spurs of the big mountains on our left; but we kept as much we could on the level ground,—sometimes having to make a detour for the sake of avoiding the rocky heights, which were inaccessible to our animals.

As the day advanced we began to look out for the runaways, although the lieutenant was of opinion that they must be still some way ahead of us. We also kept our eyes open on the chance of any Indians coming down upon us,—although I did not think that there was much risk of that; for every one at the farm had been convinced that the Arrapahas had long since gone away to the southward, and that we should hear no more of them.

That night we encamped at a snug spot near a stream, with a wood to the southward almost surrounding us, so that the light of our fire could not be seen by any one on that side. There was rich grass for our animals, and they were therefore not likely to stray. We were both young, in good health and spirits, and with no cares to oppress us, so we greatly enjoyed our bivouac. We sat by the fire chatting away for some time; then we lay down, wrapped in our buffalo robes, to sleep, resolving to awake at intervals, in order to put on fresh fuel, as it was important not to let our fire get low. Fortunately, we awoke as often as was needful, and by maintaining a good blaze we kept at a distance any bears or wolves which might have been prowling about.

The next morning, at daybreak, we once more moved on. As yet, we had discovered no signs of the runaways; indeed, when we came to think over the matter, we considered that they would probably have kept out of the beaten track, in order to avoid discovery should they be pursued. From the nature of the ground, they would not have gone to the left; and I therefore suggested that we should keep to the right, where, if they really were making for the pass, we should be pretty certain of coming upon them. We accordingly struck off at an angle in the direction I proposed, and then once more continued our former course northward, keeping a bright look-out ahead and on either side.

"If the fellows are still before us, they deserve credit for the speed at which they must have been travelling," observed the lieutenant.

"But, notwithstanding, we shall be up with them before dark," I exclaimed. "See there!" and I pointed to a mark on the grass, which my quick eye had detected as that made by a single wheel.

The lieutenant, however, could not see it, and thought that my fancy was deceiving me.

Had we not been detained by the baggage mules, we should, I was sure, have quickly overtaken the runaways. I must own, however, that I felt very little interest in their capture, for I considered them not worth their salt as soldiers,—a couple of "Uncle Sam's" hard bargains,—but the lieutenant had no wish to be blamed for losing his men, should he arrive at the fort without his escort.

We had to call a halt twice in the day, to allow our animals to feed and drink, and to take some refreshment ourselves. Two or three times, as I looked round, I fancied that I saw some objects in the distance; it might have been Indians or deer, or perhaps even buffalo, although the latter seldom came so close to the mountains.

THE DESERTERS IN SIGHT

We, of course, kept our arms ready for any emergency; and as but few of the natives in those regions had at that time firearms, I knew that Indians would be very wary how they approached within range of our rifles.

The day was drawing to a close, and I was looking out for a convenient spot for camping, when I saw in the far distance ahead of us, and just on the summit of some rising ground, a couple of figures.

"Who can these be?" exclaimed the lieutenant, who saw them at the same time.

"Unless I am greatly mistaken, they are your two deserters, Klitz and Gillooly."

We dragged on the unwilling mules, in the endeavour to overtake them; but I think the fellows must have seen us, for they moved forward at a rapid rate. The fat little Irishman was ahead trundling the wheelbarrow, while the tall German followed close at his heels carrying a couple of muskets, one over each shoulder.

"Stay by the mules, Ralph; pray do!" exclaimed the lieutenant. "I will gallop after the rascals, and bring them to a halt."

"There is a deep stream between us and them," I observed, "and you may have some difficulty in crossing it alone; we will follow at our leisure, for we are sure to catch them up before dark."

Just as I spoke, the ominous cry of an Indian war-whoop came from behind us; and looking round, we saw nearly a dozen mounted warriors coming on at full gallop. To throw ourselves from our horses, and to get our rifles ready for firing, was the work of a moment.

The Indians had expected to see us take to flight, so on observing our determined attitude they pulled rein. They stopped and watched us for some time; and then, apparently considering that the risk they would run of certainly losing two of their number, if not more, was not worth the object to be attained, they wheeled round and galloped off in the direction from whence they had come.

We continued watching them until they had disappeared in the distance; and when we turned about and again looked for the runaways, they were nowhere to be seen.

"Never fear," I observed; "we shall soon catch them up. But I would rather that those Redskin fellows, if they are enemies, had not been in the neighbourhood; for they may take it into their heads to pay us a visit while we are encamped at night. Knowing, however, that we are well armed, and likely to be prepared for them, they will not attack us openly; yet they will, if they can, steal up to our camp, and try to take us by surprise."

Our great object now was to find a secure camping-ground; so we pushed on, and I led my companion across the stream by a ford somewhat further up. But still we saw nothing of Klitz or Gillooly, while the waning light prevented me from discovering their trail, had they crossed where we did. Some way ahead was a large wood, which extended to the very foot of the mountains, and within its recesses we should be able to shelter ourselves from any onset of horsemen, although the trees would favour the approach of enemies who might attempt to take us by surprise.

We rode on, skirting the forest as long as we had sufficient light to distinguish objects at any distance, still with the hope that we might find the runaways encamped, in case they should not have seen us. That they had not perceived us, near as we were to them, was quite possible, as their backs had been turned towards us the whole time they were in sight; and their moving on so quickly might be accounted for by their wish to reach a good spot for camping on before dark.

We ourselves, after searching about for some time, and being unable to find any traces of them, resolved to encamp in a small recess in the wood which presented itself. There was water near, from a rivulet which came winding through the forest, and plenty of grass. We accordingly hobbled and staked our horses close at hand; and we then collected wood for our fire, and made down our beds with our saddles and horse-cloths.

While we were seated at supper, I proposed to my companion to go a short distance from the wood, that we might command a more extensive range of view than we could where we were seated; so that should the runaways be anywhere in the neighbourhood, we might find them out by the light of their fire. No glare appeared, however, along the whole length of the forest; but still that was no proof that they were not somewhere in one of its recesses, as, even should they have kindled a fire, the trees might conceal its light from us.

Neither of us feeling inclined for sleep, we sat up talking.

"I much regret being obliged to leave the farm, for I confess that I am not quite satisfied about the movements of the Indians who have been seen by the chief Winnemak," observed Lieutenant Broadstreet. "Should they return to the farm, your friends will be exposed to great danger. I purpose, on reaching Fort Harwood, to lay the state of the case before the commandant, and to try and induce him to send me back with a body of men, either to relieve the garrison of the farm should it be attacked, or to go in search of the marauders."

I thanked the lieutenant kindly for this offer, although I did not suppose that Uncle Jeff and his companions would have any difficulty in beating off their assailants.

"As we must be off by daylight, it is now time to turn in," said the lieutenant. "Suppose you keep one eye open, and I another! We must not, if we can help it, be surprised by wolves or bears—nor Indians either. It is just possible that the fellows whom we saw in the afternoon may follow us."

"Then I will sit up and keep watch while you sleep," I said. "If they come at all, they will try and steal upon us when they think that we may be asleep."

"I agree to your proposal," answered my companion. "If you will call me in a couple of hours, I will then take my turn, and thus let you have the morning watch. I am accustomed to have my sleep broken."

Nothing occurred during the first watch, and at the end of it I roused up the lieutenant and lay down. I suspect that he had intended to keep on watch for the rest of the night; but I happened to awake, and insisted—finding he had had a long spell—on his lying down. The young officer, therefore, rolling himself in his buffalo robe, was again quickly asleep.

I sometimes walked up and down, my rifle in my hand; sometimes leaned against a tree, peering in every direction. It could not then have wanted more than a couple of hours to dawn. The only sounds which reached my ear were those from our animals as they cropped the rich grass, or the occasional scream of some night-bird in the forest. The moon, too, was nearly at its full, and I was thus enabled to see objects at a distance distinctly. I could judge pretty well of the hour by the appearance of the fire, on which, from time to time, I threw a few sticks to keep up the blaze.

I was leaning against a tree, beginning to feel somewhat sleepy, and thinking that it would soon be time to call the lieutenant, when a sound as of something moving in the forest behind me struck on my ear. I remained perfectly motionless, and again I heard the sound. "It may be a bear," was my first thought; "but then, a bear moving among the bushes would make more noise than that. It must be some human being; perhaps an Indian, who is watching an opportunity to shoot us down."

I kept completely in the shade, while I turned my eyes in the direction from whence the sound came. I thus hoped, should there be an enemy near, to get sight of him before he could discover me.

On arousing the lieutenant, I told him of the sounds I had heard.

"If there are Indians near, we had better at once go in search of them," he answered. "I have no fancy to be shot down, as you suppose it likely we may be; and as it will not do to leave our horses, I propose that we mount them, and try and push through the forest. The moonlight will enable us to make our way without difficulty."

I should have preferred going on foot, but, of course, there was a risk, as the lieutenant had observed, of our horses being carried off. I therefore thought it wisest to agree to his proposal.

Our animals were quickly saddled, and we at once pushed into the forest. After we had passed through the outer belt, the trees grew wide apart, and as we soon came to several broad glades, we had no difficulty in making our way.

We had gone some distance, when suddenly my horse gave a start, and I caught sight of a figure, partly concealed by a tree, right ahead of me; but as I saw neither bow nor rifle-barrel, I had no fear of encountering an enemy.

OUR MEETING WITH MAYSOTTA.

"Who is there?" I asked. "Come forth and show yourself. We wish to be friends, and will not harm you."

I rode on, and just then the moonbeams, shining amid the boughs, shed their light on the figure of a young girl, whose countenance and costume plainly showed that she was an Indian. After surveying my companion and myself—apparently to ascertain who we were—she stepped forth from her place of concealment, and advanced fearlessly towards us.

"How comes it that you are wandering in this forest by yourself?" I asked.

"My friends are not far off," she answered; "and they are your friends also. I am Maysotta, the daughter of Winnemak. Seeing the light of your fire, I approached your camp, in order to ascertain who you were; but as you concealed yourself, I was unable to do so. As I had promised not to be long absent, I was returning to the camp of my people when you overtook me. My father has directed us to come on here; while he has gone back to the farm to warn your friends that the Arrapahas have once more turned their faces northward, and are very likely to carry out their hostile intentions."

"This is important information you give, Maysotta," I observed, "and we thank you for it. Are you certain it is correct?"

"My father is never deceived," she answered. "He believes that the farm will certainly be attacked, and that if those living there are not prepared, they will run a great risk of being cut off."

The lieutenant and I had dismounted, and were holding our horses by the bridle, while we talked to the Indian girl.

"If I could get hold of these deserters, I should feel warranted in returning to assist your friends," observed the lieutenant to me. "But do you think that we can depend upon the information this girl gives us?"

"I feel sure that we may," I answered. "And as I should not like to be absent while Clarice and Uncle Jeff are exposed to danger, I would certainly urge you to return. Perhaps our friend here may be able to assist us in discovering the runaways!"

I turned to Maysotta and asked her whether she or any of her people had seen the two truants, or had observed the light of a camp-fire anywhere in the forest.

"Are you seeking for any one?" she asked.

I told her that two of the lieutenant's men, forgetful of their duty, had gone off by themselves, and that they might now be of use, could they be discovered, in defending the farm.

"Will they be punished for what they have done?" she inquired.

I told the lieutenant what she said.

"Not if they return to their duty," he answered.

"Then I think I can lead you to where they are," said Maysotta. "I observed the light of a small fire reflected in the sky some little way from this, and I feel sure that it must have been kindled by the men you speak of."

"At all events, we will approach cautiously," said the lieutenant. "If my men are there, we shall have no difficulty in recovering them; or should the fire prove to be at the camp of hostile Indians, we shall be able to retreat unobserved."

Maysotta had no fear on the latter point, and advising us to picket our horses where we then were, she led the way towards the point she had described. In many places the thick foliage prevented the moonbeams from penetrating through the forest, and we could with difficulty distinguish the figure of our conductress, at so rapid a rate did she glide on through the forest.

"I hope that the girl is not deceiving us," observed the lieutenant. "Is it not possible that she may have been sent merely to beguile us into an ambush?"

"I do not think that at all likely," I answered. "There can be no doubt that she is the daughter of whom Winnemak told my sister Clarice, and that she has heard all about us from her father. She is thus anxious to render us any service in her power."

Maysotta, hearing us talking, stopped, and putting her finger to her lips, made us understand that we must be silent. She then moved forward again, at a slower pace, keeping close in front of us. After going a little farther, I observed the faint glare of a fire reflected on the loftier boughs of the trees. As we advanced it grew brighter and brighter, some of the rays penetrating even through the bushes which concealed the fire itself.

Maysotta now touched my arm, and pointing to the fallen trunk of a tree, observed, "Creep up there, and you will ascertain whether those are the people you are in search of."

We cautiously made our way towards the point indicated; but even before we could lift our heads to look over the fallen trunk, the sound of Barney Gillooly's jovial voice reached our ears, accompanied by Klitz's guttural notes.

The lieutenant was about to spring over the trunk and seize hold of the deserters at once, but I held him back.

"Let us see what the fellows are about," I whispered; and we crept closer, keeping ourselves concealed by the bushes.

Gillooly and Klitz were seated on the ground opposite each other, with the fire between them. The Irishman was holding up a piece of venison, which he had just cooked, at the end of a stick, while Klitz held another piece to the fire.

"Arrah! now, this illigint piece of meat will be enough to last us until we stop again for the night!" exclaimed Gillooly. "I'll race you now, and see who can get his whack down the fastest. If I win, you must hand over to me what remains of yours; and if you win, you shall have the remainder of my whack."

THE RUNAWAYS.

"Dat would not be fair," answered Klitz. "You got big mout and short body, and can stow away much faster dan I. You eat your breakfast as fast as you like, but let me take mine at my ease."

"Arrah! thin, here goes," cried Gillooly; and he began gnawing away with right good will at the lump of venison.

It was pretty evident that either he or Klitz must have managed to kill a deer, judging from the ample supply of meat they appeared to possess. Their rifles lay at a little distance, and close to their wheelbarrow, which seemed to be well loaded. There was no danger, therefore, of their firing at us before they discovered who we were; and, besides, they were not likely men to offer any determined resistance.

We amused ourselves for some little time in watching them; and certainly no two individuals could have afforded a greater contrast. Gillooly went on eating, laughing, and drinking, diverting himself by quizzing his saturnine companion, who replied only occasionally, and in monosyllables.

"We have had enough of this," at length whispered the officer to me. "If you will seize the Irishman, I will manage the Dutchman. Hold your pistol to Gillooly's head, and he will be as quiet as a lamb. I will treat Klitz in the same way."

To bound over the trunk was the work of a moment, and the two deserters, greatly to their astonishment and dismay, found themselves in our power, without any hope of escape.

"Where were you going, you rascals?" exclaimed the lieutenant.

"Sure, your honour, a military life disagreed intirely wid me health, and I thought it best to take Frinch leave, to save me comrades the trouble of burying, me," answered Barney. "Sure, I niver dreamed of deserting."

"And you, Mr. Klitz, what have you to say?" asked the lieutenant.

"Dat I could not let dis fellow, like one big baby, go alone," answered the German; "so I went to take care of him."

There was no use in bandying words just then, so the lieutenant ordering Klitz to take up the muskets, and Gillooly, as before, to trundle the wheel-barrow, we set off, guided by Maysotta, for the Indian camp.

We found but few persons in the camp, and these chiefly women and children,—the men having accompanied their chief. From the assurances Maysotta again gave us, we were convinced of the danger to which our friends were exposed. The lieutenant accordingly at once decided to leave the baggage-mules behind, and, as the Indians could supply us with a couple of horses, to mount our two men, and return at full speed to the farm.

CHAPTER V.

WE LEAVE THE INDIAN CAMP—MAYSOTTA'S KIND OFFER—OUR RIDE TO ROARING WATER—INDIANS IN THE DISTANCE—IN SIGHT OF THE FARM—A STRANGER INDIAN—OUR RECEPTION BY UNCLE JEFF—THE INDIAN'S STORY—HE GETS FOOD AND SHELTER—MATTERS NOW LOOK SERIOUS—A COUNCIL OF WAR—MY DOUBTS OF THE INDIAN—CLARICE AND RACHEL ACCOMPANY THE LIEUTENANT TO THE INDIAN CAMP—WE BARRICADE THE HOUSE—DISAPPEARANCE OF THE INDIAN—BARTLE GOES OUT TO RECONNOITRE—APPROACH OF THE ENEMY—A DETERMINED ATTACK—SEVERE LOSSES—THE OUT-BUILDINGS SET ON FIRE—OUR AMMUNITION RUNS SHORT—THE ROOF TAKES FIRE—HOW ARE WE TO ESCAPE?—UNCLE JEFF'S RUSE, AND HOW IT SUCCEEDED.

HE Indian girl readily undertook the charge of our baggage-mules and property, as well as of the deserters' wheel-barrow, which she promised should be sent back to the farm. Having secured the muskets of the two men to our own saddles, we made them mount and ride on before us, so that they might have no opportunity of running away. Gillooly pulled as long a face as his jovial countenance was capable of, while that of Klitz elongated even more than was its wont.

"We shall probably have some sharp fighting, my lads; and if you behave well I intend to overlook your conduct; but if not, you must take the consequences," said the lieutenant.

"Sure, if we get sight of an inemy, I will do nothing to disgrace the name of Gillooly," answered Barney.

Klitz muttered something in German, but what it was I could not make out. They were neither of them likely to fight for honour and glory; at the same time, I had little doubt but they would blaze away at an enemy, when they knew that by failing to do so they would lose their scalps.

"Tell the 'Fair Lily' that I have heard of the danger by which she is threatened, and that if she will come here Maysotta will take care of her, and cherish her as a sister," said the Indian girl, as I was about to vault into my saddle.

I thanked her, and told her that I was sure Clarice would be glad to meet with her. I was much struck by the artless manners of the young Indian girl, who, although endowed with the features of her race, possessed a beauty rarely seen among them.

"Move on, lads; we must be at Roaring Water before nightfall," cried the lieutenant. "Keep together, and do not pull rein until I give the order. Remember that I will stand no nonsense; and the first of you who plays any trick, I will shoot him through the head."

"Arrah! sure, we will be afther obeying your honour, thin," cried Barney, as he and Klitz galloped on ahead—the lieutenant giving them the order to turn to the right or to the left as was necessary.

We kept on at a good pace. The Indian mustangs, although somewhat small, were strong and wiry; and our horses, having had a good feed, were perfectly fresh. The distance, therefore, which on the previous days—having our mules to drag after us—was slowly traversed, was now quickly got over. But we had to call a halt at noon, by the side of a stream, in order to water our animals and let them feed; while we ourselves took some of the provender which we had brought in our wallets.

Klitz and Barney sat down opposite to us, by the orders of the lieutenant, and ate their meal in silence. They bore their disappointment very well. Perhaps, after their three or four days' experience, they may have begun to suspect that they would not reach their El Dorado without some considerable difficulty, should they ever get there at all; and they possibly consoled themselves with the idea that, since they had been retaken, they were getting off very cheaply.

Our meal over, we moved on as before. I kept a sharp look-out by the way, and twice I caught sight of figures which I knew must be Indians, moving in the distance, but whether friends or foes it was impossible to say. Perhaps they belonged to Winnemak's tribe; or, should Maysotta's account be correct, they might be Arrapahas. They did not approach us, however, and we were allowed to proceed unmolested.

Although we were moving along the line used by emigrant trains, we did not meet a single one; but it was possible that any coming from the eastward might have been attacked by the Arrapahas, or, hearing that an enemy was in the neighbourhood, might have halted for the purpose of defending themselves. When Indians can manage to attack a train on the move, they, in most instances, prove successful; whereas even a small party of white men, when encamped and under the protection of their waggons, can generally keep a large band of warriors at bay.

The fact of our not meeting with any emigrant trains made Maysotta's report more probable. Of course I felt somewhat anxious about ourselves, for, even although we had a couple of rifles and two muskets, besides our pistols, we might find it a hard matter to drive off any large number of mounted assailants; but I felt far more anxious about the inmates of the farm.

We kept the two men moving ahead of us at such a rate that Barney more than once cried out, "Sure, lieutenant, our bastes will have no wind left in thim at all, at all, if we don't pull up!"

"Go on, go on," cried the lieutenant; "do not mind your beasts, as long as they can keep their legs."

"Thin it's meself I'd be plading for," cried Barney, turning round.

"Do not mind yourself either," answered the lieutenant. "The lives of our friends are at stake, and if we are to help them we must get to the farm without delay."

Whack, whack, whack went Barney's stick. The German also urged forward his mustang in the same manner—his feet, from the length of his legs, nearly touching the ground. Indeed, when passing through long grass, his feet were so completely hidden, that, as he kept moving his legs about all the time, it appeared as if he were running along with his horse under him.

At length the mountains which rose above Roaring Water appeared in sight. As we neared them I looked out eagerly from the summit of a ridge we had reached, to ascertain if any Indians were in the neighbourhood; but as none were to be seen, I hoped that we might reach the farm before any attack had been commenced.

As we passed the confines of the property I saw none of our people about; but, as the evening was drawing on, I thought it probable that they had gone home from their work. Still, I felt somewhat anxious; my anxiety being also shared by the lieutenant, who was making his tired beast breast the hill faster than he, as a humane man, would otherwise have done.

As we got close to the house, an Indian started up from behind a copse which grew on the side of the hill. He had neither war-paint nor ornaments on, and looked weary and travel-stained. He was a young, active man; but, at the first glance, I did not like his countenance. A person unaccustomed to Indians cannot easily distinguish one from another, although in reality they vary in appearance as much as white men do; as does also the expression of their countenances.

"Are you going to the farm?" he asked, addressing me. He knew at once by my dress that I was a settler.

"Yes," I replied. "Why do you put the question?"

"I wish to go there too," he answered. "I want to tell the Palefaces living there that they are likely to be attacked by enemies who have sworn to take their scalps, and that unless they run away they will all lose their lives."

"You do not bring us news," I replied; "but you can accompany us to the farm and speak to the white chief, telling him what you know—although I do not think it likely that he will follow your advice."

"Come on, come on, Ralph," cried the lieutenant; "do not lose time by talking to that fellow."

I quickly overtook my companion; while the Indian followed, notwithstanding his tired appearance, at a speed which soon brought him up with us.

As we rode up to the house, Uncle Jeff appeared at the door.

"What has brought you back?" he exclaimed, with a look of surprise. "Glad to see you, at all events; for we have had our friend Winnemak here with news sufficient to make our hair stand on end, if it were addicted to anything of that sort. He declares that the Arrapahas are coming on in overwhelming force, and that, unless we are well prepared for them, we shall one and all of us lose our scalps. He has gone off again, though, promising to make a diversion in our favour, as he has been unable to get his people to come and assist in defending the farm, which would have been more to the purpose. However, as you have returned,—and brought your two deserters, I see,—we shall be able to beat the varmints off. No fear of it, though they may be as thick as a swarm of bees."

A few words explained how we had fallen in with the runaways.

The Indian who accompanied us then stepped forward. He told Uncle Jeff that he was a Pawnee, that his name was Piomingo, and that, having a warm affection for the Palefaces, he had come to warn us of the danger in which we were placed, and to advise us forthwith to desert the farm and take to the mountains, for that we had not a chance of defending it against the numerous bands of Arrapahas who were advancing to attack us. They had, he said, put to death all the white men, as well as women and children, they had met with in their progress, as their manner was to spare no one; and they would certainly treat us in the same way.

"We have already heard something of this," said Uncle Jeff, looking as unconcerned as he could; "but how did you happen to know about it?" he asked.

"I was taken prisoner by the Arrapahas while on my way to visit a young squaw, who is to become my wife. But on the night before I was to be tortured and put to death I managed to make my escape, and came on here at once to tell the Palefaces of their danger, of which I had heard when in the camp of the enemy."

I suspected that Uncle Jeff did not altogether believe the account given by the Indian. At any rate, he received it with perfect composure.

"We thank you, friend Piomingo, for your good intentions. You are now at liberty to pursue your journey on your intended visit to the young squaw of whom you speak," he answered.

"I would follow the advice of the Paleface chief, but I am weary and hungry, and require sleep and rest. He would not turn me away like a dog from his door!"

"No, I will not do that," said Uncle Jeff. "You shall have as much food as you require, and you can lie down and sleep until you are rested; after that, you shall be welcome to depart."

The Indian expressed his gratitude in a much longer speech than the occasion required; but when Rachel brought some food he ate it voraciously, as if he really were as hungry as he had asserted.

Clarice blushed and smiled, when the lieutenant told her how anxious he had been made by the report he had received from Maysotta, and how glad he was for the opportunity of returning.

The sergeant was by this time much better, and able to move about. Pat, too, had behaved very well. The four farm hands had been brought into the house, and Sergeant Custis and Pat had been regularly drilling them, and teaching them how to handle their muskets properly.

I found that Uncle Jeff considered matters far more serious than he had at first been willing to do. Winnemak had been urging him to allow Clarice, attended by Rachel, to quit the farm—promising to conduct them to his daughter, and to afford them protection. Should the farm be attacked, it was quite possible that the defenders might have, as a last resource, to cut their way out; and, encumbered with the two women, the risk they would have to run would be far greater than if they had only themselves to think of.

"I cannot help acknowledging that our Indian friend's advice is sound," observed Uncle Jeff. "If we knew that Clarice and Rachel were safe, we should fight with far more freedom than we could do with them in the house. And if matters came to the worst, we should, as he says, be able to escape with far less difficulty than if we had them to look after."

"I am very unwilling to desert you," said the lieutenant; "but, under the circumstances, if you will confide your niece to my care, with her attendant, I will undertake to escort them to the Indian camp, where the chief's daughter is ready to receive her. Indeed, the Indian girl proposed this herself, and seemed to be aware of what her father had advised you to do."

While we were talking, I observed that the stranger was listening, and apparently doing his best to take in what we said. Though he was a handsome young fellow, yet, as I before remarked, I did not like the expression of his countenance; it now struck me that it had a cunning, sinister look. Whenever he saw my eyes directed towards him, he turned away, and appeared to be thinking only of the food he was eating.

I have elsewhere alluded to my talent as an artist. While Winnemak was with us, I had made a tolerably fair portrait of him; indeed, it was considered a good likeness, and was hung up against the wall. As Piomingo was passing it, I saw him start in a way an Indian seldom does; and he then stood gazing earnestly at it for a minute or more.

"Who is that man?" he asked, pointing to the portrait.

I told him.

"Ah, bad man!" he muttered; "take care what he do."

"We think him a good man; he is a friend of ours."

He shook his head, but said nothing more. After this, instead of lying down, he stole near to where Uncle Jeff, the lieutenant, and I were talking, although, unless he knew English much better than he seemed to do, he could not have been any the wiser.

Uncle Jeff considered seriously the proposal made by Winnemak, and now repeated by the lieutenant.

"Yes," he said at length, "I am sure it is the best plan. I will entrust my niece and Rachel to your charge. I conclude you will take your men with you! Indeed, although we can ill spare any hands, I wish Ralph to accompany you, if you will allow him."

"You may trust me, Mr. Crockett, that I will defend your niece and her attendant with my life; but I shall be very glad to have the aid of your nephew," answered Lieutenant Broadstreet. "With regard to my own men, I propose taking only the most trustworthy, Sergeant Custis and Sperry; the other two I will leave with you, for they will, at all events, fight as well as better men within walls, and I can more readily spare them than the others."

WINNEMAK.

On hearing this arrangement, I was placed in a dilemma. I did not at all like the idea of being compelled to quit the post of danger; while at the same time I felt it was my duty to assist in protecting Clarice. I told the lieutenant how I felt on the subject.

"I will speak to your uncle," he answered; "and if you wish to remain, I will assure him that your coming is not absolutely necessary. We may hope to reach the Indian camp early to-morrow, and your sister will then be placed under the charge of the Indian chief and his daughter."

When I put the question to Clarice, she replied,—"I would infinitely rather have you with me; but if you believe that it is your duty to remain with Uncle Jeff, I could not bear the thought of your leaving him. Besides, he seems to be confident that he will be able to beat off the enemy, should the farm be attacked."

I confess that I was in two minds on the subject until the last moment.

The plans being arranged, no time was lost in making the necessary preparations. The horses which had been selected for the journey having been well fed and watered, were brought to the door. Clarice was soon ready. She was a good horse-woman, and even Rachel had been accustomed to the saddle in former years.

I wrung my friend's hand.

"You will take care of my sister, I know you will," I said as I parted from him.

"Indeed, Ralph, I will," he answered solemnly; and I felt that she was as safe as she would have been had I accompanied her.

The moon was now shining brightly, and enabled the lieutenant and his companions to pursue their way at a rapid rate. They took no baggage except such as could be strapped to the saddles of their horses; they were, therefore, not impeded as we had been by slow-moving mules. It was nearly midnight when they set off; and as little noise as possible was made when they left the house, in case any of the enemy's scouts watching in the neighbourhood might hear them.

The stranger Indian had, some time before the party set off, thrown himself on a buffalo robe in a corner of the room, and was apparently asleep; but I suspected that he knew pretty well all that was going forward. He remained, however, without moving, as if in a sound slumber.

As soon as Uncle Jeff and I returned (we had accompanied our friends a little way down the hill), Uncle Jeff addressed his small garrison.

"Putting all things together, lads," said he, "I believe these Redskin varmints whom we have been hearing of for some days past will really at last make an attempt to rob the farm; but I know that you will fight to the last, and we shall manage to drive them off. There is no reason why we should not feel confident of success. We have a good store of powder and bullets, with trustworthy rifles and muskets; and what more, pray, can men wish for?"

The men, one and all, promised to stand by him.

"That is all I want," he answered. "The first thing we have to do is to barricade the lower windows and the doors, so that while we are defending one side the Indians may not walk in at the other."

There were ten of us altogether, and having abundance of tools and materials, we soon put the building in a state of defence, with loopholes on all sides. Before the doors were finally closed, Uncle Jeff told Bartle to bring in his favourite horse "Jack;" the remainder of the animals had been turned loose to seek their own safety.

The day dawned, but as nothing had yet been seen of our expected enemies, Bartle agreed to go out and ascertain their whereabouts as soon as the sun rose above the horizon. Bartle was too old a scout to care whether he had to approach an enemy in daylight or darkness; his only object at present was to find out if the Indians were really marching towards the farm.

While we were busily engaged in barricading the house, no one had thought of our Redskin visitor. When last seen he was apparently wrapped in slumber.

"I suppose we may count on Piomingo as one of the defenders of the house; he probably knows how to use a rifle," observed Uncle Jeff, near whom I was working. "Go and speak to him. Say that we expect him to do his duty; and ask him if he knows how to load a rifle."

As soon as I had finished the work I was about, I went to where Piomingo had been lying down. He was not there; I looked everywhere about for him, but he had disappeared. No one had seen him leave the house, so that, if he was not still within, he must have watched his opportunity when our eyes were off him, and slipped out.

What his object was in coming, and then going away secretly, it was difficult to say. His departure was suspicious, too; he might have visited us with treacherous intentions. But perhaps he was merely a coward, and finding that we would not take his advice and desert the farm, he had escaped, to avoid the danger to which he would be exposed. However, if he intended treachery, it was better to have him out of the way.

"Maybe, afther all, the spalpeen is hiding somewhere," observed Gillooly, when he found that we were inquiring for the Indian; "if he is anywhere inside, sure I'll ferret him out;" and the Irishman immediately began poking his nose into every hole and cranny in the building.

"Bedad! he's convarted himself into a rat, for nowhere can I find him in any hole that a mortal man could stow himself into!" exclaimed Barney, after a long search.

I have not yet described the building which, if we were attacked, was to serve as our fortress. It was of considerable size; the lower part of the walls consisting of stout logs, the upper portion being of framework, and boarded. Round three sides was a stout palisade, forming an enclosure, while the remaining side was occupied by stables and other out-buildings. Barns, cow-sheds, and piggeries were placed at some little distance off. Then there was the hut occupied by the farm hands; while overhanging the stream, which flowed by on one side, was a small mill, the wheel of which was turned by its waters.

The hills rose on either side, but too far off to allow an enemy to command the house from them; while the intervening space was rough and rocky,—forming shelter, however, to an approaching foe. Had we felt sure that we would be attacked, we should have been wise to have destroyed many of these out-buildings, as they were calculated to protect the enemy. But to the last Uncle Jeff was not fully persuaded that the Indians would venture to approach the place, as they must have known that we were prepared for their reception.

The day drew on, but still Bartle did not return; and we began to hope that after all no enemy would appear. But about noon, and just as we were making ready to sit down to dinner, he was seen approaching the house with rapid strides.

"There is no doubt about what these varmints intend!" he exclaimed as he rushed into the house. "They are coming on as fast as their legs can carry them, and will be here before the day is much older. Look to your firearms, lads; we must be ready for them, and give them such a dose of bullets that they will wish they hadn't come to Roaring Water."

In accordance with Bartle's advice, all the doors and windows were fast closed, and we were shut up in our fortress.

"It is ill to fight on empty stomachs, so turn to and eat your dinner, lads; I'll give you notice when you are wanted."

Uncle Jeff having thus spoken, mounted to a window commanding the road by which the enemy were likely to approach; and there, after snatching a hasty meal, I quickly joined him. I first, however, took a glance out of another window, opening to the southward, as it was possible that some of the Indians might make their way over the hills so as to take us on the flank.

To each man was given his particular post, at which he was to remain until summoned elsewhere.

The time now seemed to go by very slowly.

"I do not think they will come, after all," I observed to Uncle Jeff; "more than an hour has passed since Bartle returned."

He looked at his watch. "It is not one o'clock yet," he observed; "and Bartle does not often make a mistake."

Just as he spoke, I saw the plumes of a chief's head-dress rising over a point of rocky ground round which the road passed, and shortly afterwards a band of painted warriors came into view. They approached very cautiously, and gazed about them, as if expecting at any moment to encounter an enemy. Finding, however, that none of us were visible, they began to advance at a more rapid rate. Immediately afterwards I saw another and a much larger party coming over the hill, who, as they drew near, scattered themselves in every direction, so as to be able to get under shelter behind the intervening rocks and shrubs.

"Tell the men to be ready," cried Uncle Jeff; "and charge them not to fire until I give the word,—they must not throw a shot away."

I ran hastily round the building, and ascertained that every man was at his post, prepared for whatever might happen. I then returned to Uncle Jeff for further orders.

Presently an Indian belonging to the party which had descended the hill advanced towards the house with a white handkerchief on a pole.

"The fellows have some pretensions to civilization," said Uncle Jeff when he saw it; "perhaps their white friends have put them up to that."

The Indian, having got within speaking distance, now halted; but seeing no one whom he could address, he proceeded around the building, apparently examining our preparations for defence. At length he again stopped, having satisfied himself that the building was fortified, and contained a garrison.

"Friends," he shouted, "do you want to lose your scalps? If not, march out and leave this house to us. We mean to come in."

Uncle Jeff now appeared at the window opposite to where the Indian was standing.

"Clear out of this, you rascal!" he exclaimed. "We do not intend that you shall have our scalps, or get inside these walls. If you make the attempt, you will pay dearly for it; that is what I've got to say."

The Indian seemed to recognize Uncle Jeff. "You, Jeff Crockett," he shouted out, "you good man! If you like to go out you may go, and we take scalps of rest."

Uncle Jeff burst into a loud laugh.

"That's a likely thing," he thundered out. "If it was not for your white flag, I would treat you as you deserve."

The tone of voice in which this was said convinced the Indian that Uncle Jeff was in earnest; and in no very dignified fashion he scampered off to rejoin his companions.

The whole of the band now united in giving utterance to a terrific war-whoop, and came rushing up to the house. There was no longer any doubt as to their intentions; they halted for a moment to fire, and then came right on at a rapid pace, up to the palisade.

"Now, lads, give it them!" shouted Uncle Jeff; and every bullet fired by our little garrison brought down one of our foes.

The death of their companions served but to inflame the rage of the rest; and climbing up over the palisade of which I have spoken, they attempted to get into the enclosure. Several were shot down in the act; but others succeeded in reaching the enclosure, though they soon paid dearly for their activity, as they were shot down as soon as we could reload our rifles. The loss of so many men in their first attack seemed to discourage the rest, and they drew off to a distance, under such shelter as they could find.

"We have soon settled the fellows; they have had enough of it," cried some of our men.

"Wait a bit, lads," said Bartle; "that is not the Indian fashion. They will be upon us again before long."

He was right; in a few minutes a considerable number of the enemy were seen moving round, in order to get to the rear of the out-buildings—Bartle and Gideon meanwhile picking off two or three who incautiously exposed themselves. Having gained the position they desired, they made a rush towards the buildings, which sheltered them almost entirely from our fire. Breaking through the enclosure on that side, they next advanced boldly into the open space in front of the stables, where they were once more exposed to view. Scarcely had they reached it when Bartle's unerring rifle brought down their leader. His followers, on seeing this, rushed into the stables, while others made their appearance in the same direction.

Either because they fancied that their chief was still alive, or that it was a disgrace to allow his body to remain on the ground, a couple of warriors dashed out for the purpose of carrying it off; but before they had time to stoop down and lift it from the ground, Gideon and Bartle's rifles had laid them, both by its side. Two others followed, and were picked off by Gillooly and Klitz, both of whom showed themselves no despicable shots. In the meantime Bartle and Gideon had reloaded, and two more warriors shared the fate of the first.

As yet, all the success had been on our side; and there appeared every probability of our being able to defeat any attempt of the enemy to enter the building. Those who had got into the stables were so many withdrawn from the attack; and although under shelter, they could effect nothing against us. Had the Indians been alone, we might have kept them at bay, cunning as they were; but there were white men among them, who, although not eager to expose their own lives, were well able to assist our enemies by their advice.

Presently our assailants, with the exception of those in the stables and other out-buildings, retreated. It was but for a short time, however; soon they appeared on the opposite side of the house, many of them carrying burning brands, which they threw under the fencing. This being of combustible materials, soon blazed up; and, sheltered by the intervening flames and smoke, the enemy opened a hot fire on us. Every now and then, however, a dark form was seen, and as surely a bullet searched it out. But the whole of our little garrison was now required to keep the enemy at bay on this side; and those who had been hidden in the out-buildings took the opportunity of making their escape. Some of them, we found, had thrown themselves into the mill, which afforded them sufficient shelter to fire steadily at our loopholes with less risk of being hit in return. None of us had hitherto been struck, but no sooner had the mill been taken possession of than two of the farm hands, who were less cautious than the experienced hunters, were badly wounded—one of them mortally, while the other was unable to handle his rifle.

The palisade being now burned to the ground, we were deprived of its protection, and our assailants could consequently get close up to the walls. But though our numbers were diminished, we endeavoured, by the rapidity of our fire, not to let the enemy discover our loss.

The fight had now continued for some hours, but still our foes seemed as determined as ever to capture the place. They, or perhaps the white men, had heard a report that Uncle Jeff was the owner of fabulous wealth, of which they had resolved to make themselves the possessors. This would account for their obstinate perseverance.

Fresh bands continued to arrive, too; and after a cessation of firing, a shower of arrows, from enemies concealed behind the rocks, came flying over the house. Had they been simply arrows, they would not have done much harm; but, to our dismay, we saw that each one carried a piece of burning tow; and if these fell on the shingles of the roof, they would too probably set them on fire. To extinguish the flames, too, we should have to expose ourselves to a great risk of being shot. Happily, as yet the arrows either flew over the building, or the tow fell out, and as far as we could discover no damage had been done. Some, however, struck the out-buildings; and the roofs of these being thatched, they were soon in flames. The barns, too, were set on fire, and blazed furiously.

Night at length came on, but it brought us no respite; for our savage foes could be seen, by the light from the burning out-buildings, still hovering in vast numbers round us. Suddenly, too, the granary burst into flames, making the night almost as bright as the day. It enabled us, however, to see our foes more clearly, and of this we did not fail to take advantage. We prudently retained only light enough in the house to enable us to see our way about; and we were thus comparatively concealed, while they were exposed to view.

We might have still kept the enemy at bay, had not the other two field hands both been struck down, in the same manner as their companions. We were now only six, opposed, as it appeared to us, to several hundred foes. Still no one dreamed of giving in.

Klitz and Gillooly behaved admirably, and did much to retrieve their character. They always kept together—Klitz kneeling down to fire, while Gillooly sprang now on one side, then on the other, of his loophole, as he fired his rifle through it.

Our position had become very critical; the wind might at any moment bring the flames of the out-buildings against the house itself, in which case our fate would be sealed, for it would be almost impossible for us to extinguish them.

At length, to our relief, the enemy again drew off. From their previous daring conduct, we could not hope, however, that they intended to raise the siege; perhaps they only waited to see whether the flames from the out-buildings would set the house on fire, and thus save them all further trouble and danger. But the wind, fortunately, continued to blow up the valley, keeping the flames away from the house.

Uncle Jeff now directed me to go round and give some food to each man. When I came to him, "Ralph," said he, "go and look into the ammunition-chest. I have my fears that we are running short of cartridges!"

I did as directed, and what was my dismay to find that no more than three rounds remained for each one of us! One of the poor fellows who had been last hit had been employed in supplying us with cartridges, and he had omitted to tell Uncle Jeff how short we had run.

"I wish I had let you go, Ralph," he said; "but it cannot be helped now. We must cut our way out; it is possible that all of us who are alive may succeed. If the enemy come on again, we must begin blazing away at them as before; then, when our last shot is expended, we must burst open the door and dart out. Call Bartle and Gideon, and I will tell them what I propose doing. You and they are active, and know the country, and if you can reach the mountains you may get off free; although it will go hard, I fear, with the two troopers."

His two old followers, on hearing that the ammunition was almost expended, agreed that it was the only course to pursue with any chance of saving our lives.

Fortunately there were several swords, and we each of us provided ourselves with one, and besides this we had a pistol apiece.

"Now, then," said Uncle Jeff, "I propose doing what will look like deserting you, but in reality it is the best plan for saving your lives. I am thinking of dressing up a figure, and placing it on Jack's back, so as to partly cover me when I am mounted; and I will conceal myself by hanging over along his neck. I will then dash out ahead of you, when the enemy are certain to direct their fire at me, though I hope that they will hit the figure instead. You, in the meantime, can make up the valley; and as you know every inch of the ground, you will soon distance them. What say you to my proposal, Bartle?"

"It is as good as any I can think of," answered Bartle. "I wish you would let me ride the horse, though, for I think you run a greater risk than any of us."

"No, no," answered Uncle Jeff; "although that may be true, it is my duty to you all. And Jack knows me better than any one else; it won't be his fault if he doesn't carry me clear."

I at once began to consider how I could make such a figure as would answer Uncle Jeff's purpose, and as I was of an ingenious turn, I was not long, with the aid of some pliable laths and some strips of cow-hide, in making the framework; the arms I formed in the attitude of holding the reins. The framework once formed, it was quickly clothed in the costume generally worn by Uncle Jeff; and as I placed it with the legs over a chair, it was allowed that, on a dark night, it might deceive those not prepared for the trick to be played upon them.

Jack, who had been busy munching his hay in a corner of the room, was now saddled, and the figure placed in position, and secured with straps round the body; while Uncle Jeff himself, stripped to his trousers, hung over in the attitude he proposed. Looking across the dimly-lighted room, we could scarcely perceive him.

"That will do," cried Bartle enthusiastically; "it will give you a better chance of escape, at all events."

We had reason to be thankful that the Indians gave us so long a time for preparation. The night was now advancing, and any doubts that we might have entertained as to their having taken their departure were soon dissipated, for once more showers of fiery arrows came flying over and against the house—shot, however, from a distance. Several whistled through the loopholes, but none of us were hit, and these were of course immediately extinguished.

I was in the upper story, when, looking up, to my dismay I saw a bright light overhead; the roof had been set on fire. Under other circumstances we might have attempted to extinguish it; as it was, I ran to tell Uncle Jeff what had occurred.

"Then the time has come, my lads, when we must cut our way out. God protect one and all of us. Would that I could help you further."

We shook hands round, and Bartle and Gideon stood by with their axes to knock away the barricade. Uncle Jeff mounted Jack, and secured the figure behind him. Some time passed, however, before he gave the word. The enemy were close at hand, but they were concentrated, as far as we could judge by the sounds which reached us, on one side of the house, and Uncle Jeff would be able to pass by them, and thus leave the road open for us.

A few strokes cleared away the barricade. Uncle Jeff was to dash out first, Bartle and Gideon were to follow, they understanding that I should keep between them, while Klitz and Gillooly were to bring up the rear.

"Now open the door!" cried Uncle Jeff.

Just as he spoke I looked around, and discovered that neither Klitz nor Gillooly was behind me. What had become of them I could not tell; and there was no time to consider, for the door was thrown open, and out dashed Uncle Jeff, directing his course by the path down the valley.

For some seconds he was not observed by the enemy, until he went clattering away down the steep path at a pace which would have brought many a steed on his knees. But Jack knew what he was about. Not until Uncle Jeff found that the enemy had seen him did he utter a sound. He then gave vent to a loud shout, which rang through the air, echoing from rock to rock. It had the effect he intended, and drew the attention of our foes to him. A shower of bullets went whistling through the figure and on either side of it; still the horse kept on his way uninjured.

A RACE FOR LIFE.

The Indians, who had their horses tethered below, mounted in haste, and pushed on in hot chase. But Uncle Jeff was on ahead of them, so, casting off the straps which bound the figure, he let it fall to the ground, whilst he, recovering his proper position, turned round, and shaking his fist at his astonished foes, continued his course at increased speed.

We of course could not see what occurred, but we heard of it afterwards.

CHAPTER VI.

WE ARE SURPRISED BY THE INDIANS WHILE LEAVING THE HOUSE—BARTLE'S ADVICE—I AM PERSUADED TO ESCAPE ALONE—AN EXCITING PURSUIT—FOOD AND REST—MY JOURNEY RESUMED—AMONG THE MOUNTAINS—MY ANXIETY ABOUT MY FRIENDS—A WEARY DAY—AN INDIAN IN SIGHT—FRIEND OR ENEMY?—A RECOGNITION—WINNEMAK AND HIS BRAVES—I AM KINDLY TREATED—NO NEWS OF UNCLE JEFF—A SPY—WE START IN PURSUIT OF HIM—THE SPY OVERTAKEN—A DEADLY COMBAT—WINNEMAK OVERCOMES PIOMINGO—IS HE DEAD?—MY INTERCESSION—ON THE WAY FOR WINNEMAK'S CAMP.

HE furious rush made by Uncle Jeff had, as he expected, so distracted the attention of our numerous enemies surrounding the house, that they did not at first notice Bartle, Gideon, and me. We were thus able to get to some distance from the house, and had hopes of escaping altogether unobserved, when the party who had been concealed in the mill caught sight of us, and uttering a loud war-whoop, rushed out expecting to take our scalps. Bartle and Gideon shot down with their pistols two of our assailants; and I cut down a third, who had sprung before us to stop our progress. Others soon came on, but we managed to keep them at bay, although it was too probable that ere long we should be overwhelmed, as others were coming up from all directions to join the fight. But so well did my companions wield their swords, that they for some time kept the enemy back.

"Now, lad," cried Bartle to me, "now is your time; run for it, and you will get off free! Gideon and I will manage these fellows; never fear, we will look after ourselves."

I hesitated to desert my faithful friends.

"Go, I say—go, Ralph!" again cried Bartle. "It will make it more difficult for us to escape if you remain."

It was probable, I saw, that Bartle and Gideon, with their great strength and activity, might by themselves be able to cut their way through a host of foes, although with me to protect they might find the task too great even for them.

"Good-bye, then; I hope we shall meet all right before long," I exclaimed.

"Never fear, lad," cried Bartle, as I bounded off up the cañon, my rifle at my back, with three spare cartridges, and my pistol in my belt.

For some seconds the Indians did not observe what I was about, and I soon had a good start of them. When at length they did catch sight of my figure, dimly seen in the gloom of early morning, for it was scarcely yet daylight, several started off in chase. I saw that they were coming, but I did not stop to count their number. I was well acquainted with every inch of the ground, which it was not likely that they were, and I knew I should have abundance of hiding-places between the rocks and crags, among which I might baffle pursuit. My purpose then was to cross the torrent at a narrow part where a tree hung over it, and to make to the northward, where I hoped to join Uncle Jeff and Clarice at Winnemak's camp.

The Indians, however, had no intention of allowing me to escape. On they came, uttering loud shrieks and shouts, expecting to strike terror into my heart, and make me yield. Two or three were in advance of the rest, and one especially seemed to be gaining on me. I would not willingly have taken his life, but too probably, should I not stop his progress, he would take mine. Having reached a rock, I sprang behind it; then unslinging my rifle, I stepped out and took steady aim at the advancing foe, who fell back shot through the body. His fall had the effect of stopping the others, who lifted him up to ascertain if he were dead, thus affording me time to reload my rifle, and gain several more yards in advance. I could thus bring down another enemy, if necessary, at a distance, and still have my pistol and sword to defend myself in a closer encounter.

I had not forgotten my two brave friends. I only wished that they had accompanied me, for we might, on the ground I had now reached, have set a whole host of our enemies at defiance.

I sprang on among the rocks, almost entirely concealed from the view of my pursuers. Few of them, fortunately, had firearms, although an occasional ill-aimed bullet whistled over my head, but I had very little fear of being struck while among the rocks. My great object was to reach the tree over the torrent before the Indians came up, because I should be exposed to view when climbing along the trunk.

I dashed on, and mounting the rock still unobserved, reached the root of the tree. It would be necessary to use great caution as I approached the further end, as only the more delicate branches hung over the stream, and should I venture on one incapable of bearing my weight I should fall into the torrent, which there went roaring by at a fearful rate. This very circumstance, however, should I succeed, would secure my safety, as, even should the Indians discover by what means I had crossed, they would not venture to follow; or if they did, would most probably fall into the current and be swept away.

I did not stop to ascertain how far off my pursuers were, but, climbing up on the trunk, I made my way along it—trusting to the uncertainty of their aim, should any with muskets see me and fire. My great object was now to discover a bough on which I could depend. I cast my eye along one, as far as the light would allow, and selected it; then, like a wild cat about to spring on its prey, I crawled quickly on. There were several branches below me, which, should the one I was on give way, would still afford me support, and there were many on either side. The bough bent with my weight, and as I reached the further end I every moment expected that it would break. I felt it giving way, cracking horribly. It broke! I endeavoured to seize another bough—in vain. With a crash, down I came, but it was to find myself on the opposite bank, and by making a few springs I reached the upper ground.

On looking back to ascertain if the Indians had found out the way by which I had crossed, I could see no one, but I caught sight in the distance of a bright glare, which I was too certain was caused by our burning house, every part of which by this time must have been in flames. I did not stop, however, to contemplate the sad scene, but pushed on as fast as I was able. I could not trust to the Indians not pursuing me, for I know, when intent on an object, that they will run every danger rather than abandon it, and the death of their companion would make them still more eager to kill me than might otherwise have been the case. On, therefore, I sprang. I could still hear them, although I believed they had not seen me cross by the tree, or perhaps even had not discovered the tree itself, as it was concealed by an intervening rock. I hoped that they would fancy I had taken the way further up the cañon, and would pursue in that direction. I might therefore proceed at a less furious pace than I had hitherto been going. Still, I resolved to leave nothing to chance, but to follow my course until the Indians had given up the pursuit.

Stopping to listen a moment, I could hear their voices. Again I went on as fast as before. Now I had a mountain to scale; now to make my way along its steep side; now to descend into a valley; now to wade across a stream which threatened to carry me off my legs; now to climb another height: and so on I went, until I was conscious that my strength was failing me. At length, completely exhausted, I sank down beneath an overhanging rock. It afforded me some shelter from the fiery rays of the sun, which had now risen high in the sky.

I had drunk at a spring on my way, but I again felt painfully thirsty. Could I obtain some water, I should be greatly relieved; but I was not likely to find it without further exertion, and of that I was incapable. I had brought a little food in my wallet, according to Uncle Jeff's advice before we left the house, and this I believe was the means of saving my life. Although it was dry, it gave me some strength.

I remained in a sort of stupor, scarcely conscious of what had occurred; and some hours, I suspect, went by, before I attempted to resume my journey. I had no desire to spend the night in this exposed part of the mountains. The scenery around Roaring Water was wild enough, but this appeared to me wilder still. Lofty broken cliffs rose on either side of me. So broken and irregular were their fantastic forms, that I could fancy myself amid the ruins of some Egyptian temple. It seemed to be a gateway, as it were, to some still wilder or more wonderful region, as yet unexplored by the foot of man. I had never been thus far before, and had very just fears, should darkness come on, of losing my way. I therefore pushed forward as fast as my strength would allow, in the hope of coming upon water, and kept a sharp look-out in every direction to find indication of it.

The sun had crossed the mountains, and was sinking towards the west; in a short time the shadows of their peaks would be thrown over the ground upon which I was travelling. Stopping for a moment, I heard the sound of water rushing over a rocky bed, and hurrying forward I found myself beside a foaming stream. I had, however, to seek for a path by which I could descend, before I could slake my thirst. At last I got to a place where, lying at full length, and holding on with one hand by the branch of a bush, I could lift the water with the other to my mouth. It seemed impossible to get enough; but at last I felt that I ought to take no more.

The ground being tolerably practicable along the bank of the stream, I proceeded in that direction, desirous of reaching a lower region before nightfall; and as I went along I resolved to seek for some bushes or an overhanging rock, under which to take shelter for the night.

I had now very little fear of being overtaken; indeed, the Indians would probably have lost my trail in the streams I had crossed, while the rocky nature of the ground would scarcely bear marks sufficient for even their acute eyes to discover. I knew that as yet I could not be abreast of Winnemak's camp, and, indeed, that across the mountains it would probably take me two or three days to reach it. Still I felt that it would be prudent, in case the Indians should be scouring the country in the plains, to keep to the mountains for another whole day or so.

THE MOUNTAIN PASS.

Just at dusk I saw a spot at which, from the appearance of the water, I judged that I could cross the torrent. "I will put that, at all events, between myself and my enemies, should they be pursuing me," I thought, and without further hesitation I waded towards the opposite shore. The water rose higher and higher. I had, I feared, been deceived by the light, and might have to swim for it. The danger of this was, that I might lose my rifle, and wet my pistol and ammunition. Very thankful, therefore, was I when the water again shallowed; and, keeping my feet in spite of the rush against my legs, I at last got to the bank to which I was directing my course.

I now continued down the stream until I reached a rock which almost overhung it, with bushes on either side. This, I saw, would afford me as secure a resting-place as I could expect to find. I accordingly resolved to stop; and having examined the locality on the further side, in case I should have to beat a retreat, I sat down and took some food, of which I still had a small portion left. The air was tolerably warm, and, fatigued as I was, I should under ordinary circumstances have slumbered soundly; but as it was I felt very little inclination to sleep. I was too anxious about Uncle Jeff, and Bartle, and Gideon. Had Uncle Jeff escaped the bullets of the enemy; and had the others managed to cut their way through the horde of savages? The white men in company with the Redskins, I looked upon as no better than they were. What, too, had become of the German and the Irishman? Had they, afraid of fighting in the open, remained in the house, and fallen victims to the flames? Such, indeed, must have been the fate of the poor wounded fellows left in the house. My only satisfaction was, that we had done all that men could do, and that we could not have saved their lives, although we should, to a certainty, have sacrificed our own had we made the attempt. Still I had an idea that Barney and Klitz had some plan of their own for escaping, and that they might turn up some day or other. I half expected to find that Bartle and Gideon had followed me, and I looked out eagerly, hoping to see them. How far I had come I could not exactly calculate, but I knew that, at the rate I had been moving, it must be a considerable distance.

At length, overcome by fatigue, I fell asleep, trusting that He by whom I had been mercifully preserved would watch over me. When I at last awoke, daylight was glancing across the foaming waters, the only sound I heard being that of their roar as they rushed over their rocky bed towards the valley below. I knelt down and prayed, as I had been accustomed to do from my childhood; and then, before resuming my journey, I took some of the scanty remains of the food I had brought with me, which I washed down with a draught from the stream.

Finding a practicable path to the left over the mountains, I followed it, still resolved not to trust myself in the neighbourhood of our foes. They could not have travelled over the mountains by night, but they might take it into their heads to follow me by day, and it would be unwise to linger. I did not slacken my speed, either, for if they did come they would move as fast as I could, and I might be overtaken. I stopped only occasionally, to eat a little food and to take a draught of water, of which I now found abundance by the way.

I cannot fully describe the events of that day. On and on I went, like a deer chased by the hunters. Sometimes I would fancy that I heard the war-whoops of the Indians behind me; at others the sounds which I conjured up appeared to be uttered by Bartle or Gideon. I would stop to listen, but only the roar of some distant waterfall or the murmur of a nearer rapid struck my ear. Or now and again I heard the cry of some bird of prey, as it swooped down from its lofty eyrie towards the carcass which it had espied far off on the plain below.

Again I was becoming faint with my exertions, and my food was exhausted. Whenever I stopped to rest, too, my mind dwelt upon the fearful scenes I had witnessed, and the fate of my friends. I was not altogether free from anxiety about Clarice, either. Brave and trustworthy as was my friend Manley, his party might have been pursued and overpowered by the savages, and my fair young sister might have been carried away into captivity, to suffer worse than death. To succumb, however, would have been unmanly. Although fatigued in body and anxious in mind, I had still sufficient physical strength to pursue my way.

The day was advancing, and I determined to strike down into the plains, where, at all events, I could make more rapid progress than over the rough ground I had been traversing. I accordingly directed my course, as I believed, to the eastward; but still hill beyond hill appeared, and it seemed as if I should never reach the more level ground. Still on and on I went, until at length I gained a height from whence, looking down, I saw that the prairie stretched out in the far distance before me.

I was descending at as rapid a rate as the ground would allow, when I caught sight, in the approaching gloom of evening, of the figure of a man. The person, whoever he was, had seen me as I appeared on the top of a rock exposed against the sky, and was coming towards me. To avoid him was impossible, so I got my weapons ready for an encounter, should he prove to be an enemy. Although he must have seen I held my rifle in my hand, he advanced without hesitation.

"What! do you not know me?" he exclaimed, when he got nearer. "I am Winnemak, the friend of the Palefaces; although, alas! with but little power to assist them. You, however, I can aid, for I see you are weary and hungry. Come with me to where a few of my braves are encamped—but few, alas! the rest are killed or dispersed. We were on our way to the northward, where our squaws, children, and old men are encamped, when I caught sight of you as you came down the mountain, and I knew at once that you were flying from the Arrapahas."

This information explained Winnemak's unexpected appearance. Aided by him, I continued the descent of the mountain, although I believe without his support I could have gone no farther. He then told me all that had occurred.

Having visited Roaring Water and warned Uncle Jeff of the attack he knew would be made on the farm, he returned to where he had left his warriors, resolved to make a diversion in our favour, as he had promised. He had attacked the Arrapahas with much determination, but, overwhelmed by numbers, he had been driven back, with the loss of many of his followers. Having in vain attempted to reach the farm, he had stationed a band of his best warriors to afford us support should we have deserted the house, or attempted afterwards to cut our way out of it.

I was much disappointed to find that he could give me no information about Uncle Jeff, or about any of our friends; he was not even aware that Clarice had gone to join his daughter at the camp. He expressed his satisfaction at hearing that she had escaped the fate which had, he supposed, befallen all the inmates of the farm.

He now conducted me to his temporary camp, where we found a few of his warriors reclining on the ground. Several of them were wounded, and all looked weary and disheartened. They had, however, succeeded in killing a deer, and food was abundant. I was thankful to get a substantial meal, after which I lay down with the rest by the side of the stream, to obtain the sleep I so much needed.

A few skins had been stretched over some poles to afford shelter to the wounded, who required it more than the rest of us.

I had been asleep for several hours, when, suddenly awaking, I happened to turn my eyes across the stream, and saw, partly concealed by the brushwood, the figure of an Indian stooping down and apparently watching us. My first impulse was to jump up and present my rifle at him. I had, indeed, made some slight movement, when I felt a hand placed upon my arm. It was that of Winnemak.

"Hush!" he whispered. "I see the spy, and can kill him if I wish; but it is important to take him alive, to learn what he is about."

I observed, as he spoke, that he was freeing himself of such parts of his dress as might impede his progress, and that he was gradually creeping nearer and nearer to the edge of the stream. Being in the shade, he could not be seen by the stranger. Presently Winnemak rose to his feet, and making a spring, almost cleared the stream. With a few bounds he was on the opposite bank.

The spy saw him coming, and finding that he was discovered, rose from his recumbent position. He, too, was fleet of foot, and lightly clad. Away he rushed towards the level prairie; perhaps he expected to find friends there, or had his horse staked in that direction, near some wood or copse.

A SPY ON THE WATCH.

As soon as I perceived what Winnemak was about, I too sprang up, as did several Indians, but as they were all worn out with fatigue they were soon left behind. Being a good runner, I kept pace with the chief, although still at a considerable distance behind him, as he had had the start of me.

Day was just breaking, and there being no objects to impede the rays of the sun as it approached the horizon, the light rapidly increased. Although I had, at first, lost sight of Winnemak, I soon again saw him, with the man he was pursuing at no great distance in front.

On the two went. Neither of them being armed, the fight was not likely to be a bloody one; still it was evident that Winnemak attached great importance to the capture of the spy. Perhaps he suspected who he was; and he evidently entertained a bitter animosity against him. I could not have supposed that he would have exhibited so much activity, judging from his appearance when clothed in his usual robes. Although he appeared to be a strong, muscular man, the other Indian, from his movements, was evidently young and active. How he had ventured to approach the camp without being armed, was a mystery. He could not, at all events, have intended to injure any one, or he would have come with his bow and arrows. As the light rapidly increased, and I saw him more clearly than at first, it struck me that he was the young brave, Piomingo, who had lately paid us a visit at the farm; but of this, seeing him at the distance he was from me, I could not be certain.

The chase promised to be a far longer one than I had expected. The stranger seemed as resolved to escape as Winnemak was to overtake him. Few people, Indians or whites, except after long training, could have continued running so fast and for so long a period as did the spy and Winnemak.

I had the greatest difficulty in keeping near them; and, indeed, I had begun to fall behind, when I saw in front of me a broad piece of water. The fugitive saw it too, but had he turned either to the right or to the left it would have given an advantage to his pursuer; he therefore kept straight on.

His efforts to escape were vain. As he approached the bank the ground became so soft that his feet sunk deep into it at every step. He discovered, too late, his mistake. Springing back, he attempted to make his way to the right; but in doing so he fell. Recovering himself, however, he sprang back on to the firm ground; but seeing that escape by flight was no longer possible, he turned round and boldly faced his pursuer. At the same instant a wild swan, rising from the water, flew off with a loud cry. It might have been taken for the death-wail of one of the combatants. Like a couple of wild beasts, the two Indians rushed at each other, and the next instant they were clasped in a deadly embrace. A desperate struggle ensued. It was youth and activity opposed to well-knit muscles and firm nerves.

Fierce was the contest. The young man attempted to free himself from the grasp of his opponent; now they strove to seize each other by the throat; now his antagonist bore back the chief by making a desperate spring as his feet for a moment touched the ground; but if the older man allowed himself to retreat, it was only for the purpose of wearing out the strength of the younger, which he knew would soon be exhausted.

A DEADLY EMBRACE.

Winnemak now seized one of his antagonist's arms, and with a movement as quick as thought threw him on his back across his own knee; then pressing him down, it appeared to me that he intended to break his spine. A fearful shriek, wrung from him by the agony he was suffering, escaped the lips of the young brave; his eyes closed—the struggle was over. Still Winnemak did not let go his victim, but gazing fiercely down on his countenance until all appearance of life had ceased, he hurled the body to the ground. As he did so he exclaimed, "Stay there! You have betrayed me once; you would have stolen my daughter; you will no longer have the power to follow your evil practices."

The combat was over as I reached the place.

"Is he dead?" I asked, as I gazed down on the face of the vanquished brave.

"He will die," answered Winnemak; "but he still breathes."

"But I thought you wished to gain information from him?" I observed, feeling anxious to preserve the life of the poor wretch.

"I did; but now I would rather enjoy the pleasure of seeing him die."

"That is not the way we Palefaces treat a fallen enemy," I remarked. "You must not be displeased at what I say,—I would ask you to allow me to have him brought into the camp. At all events, for the present he can do no further harm, and he may wish to show his gratitude to those who have preserved his life."

"Do as you please," said the chief, after a moment's consideration.

I got some water from the lake,—finding a hard place by which I could approach it,—and threw it over the face of the fallen man, who had, I perceived, merely fainted from the excruciating pain he was suffering. He at length opened his eyes, and seemed to recognize me. It was Piomingo. The chief, I noticed, stood by, watching every movement of his late antagonist. I raised Piomingo's head, and was thankful to find that he now began to breathe more freely.

"Take care," said the chief. "He intends acting the part of the cunning fox, and will yet make an effort to escape."

Piomingo turned his eyes towards the speaker, apparently understanding him.

I was still making every effort to restore him, when several of Winnemak's followers came up.

"Then you grant my request?" I said, turning to the chief.

"I will not refuse you!" he answered; "but he will not thank you for the mercy you wish to show him."

I begged the Indians to assist me in carrying the injured man back to the camp, and the chief bade them do as I desired. Obtaining some poles from a copse which grew near, they quickly formed a litter, upon which they bore him back to the spot from which we had started. Not a groan escaped him, although I suspected, from the expression of his countenance, that he was suffering greatly. On arriving at the camp, in spite of my representations the chief ordered that his legs should be bound together, and that one of his hands should be fastened to a tree, so that he would be unable to escape.

Those who had remained in camp had prepared breakfast, to which even the wounded did ample justice. I took some food to the prisoner, who in a short time was able to swallow a little.

After some persuasion from me, and the promise of a reward, four of the Indians undertook to carry their captive to the camp of Winnemak, to which we were bound; it was very evident that otherwise he must have been left to die miserably, as he was quite unable to walk. Three of the wounded men had also to be carried, so that we formed a mournful-looking party, as, shortly after our meal was finished, we commenced our march.

CHAPTER VII.

ON THE MARCH—WINNEMAK UNABLE TO GIVE ME NEWS OF MY FRIENDS—MY ARGUMENTS IN FAVOUR OF PIOMINGO—ENCAMPED FOR THE NIGHT—WE REACH WINNEMAK'S CAMP—BRAVES AND SQUAWS—WHERE ARE MY FRIENDS?—WINNEMAK AND HIS IDOLS—A PARTY OF BRAVES ARRIVE, WITH PRISONERS—MAYSOTTA AND HER DOG—A STRANGE MEETING—THE LIEUTENANT'S STORY—WE START IN QUEST OF CLARICE AND RACHEL—A FRUITLESS SEARCH—I LOSE MY FRIEND IN THE FOREST—TRYING TO REGAIN THE RIGHT PATH, I MEET WITH CLARICE AND MAYSOTTA—MY SISTER'S STORY—I TELL HER OF THE BURNING OF THE FARM—WE SET OUT FOR THE CAMP, AND MEET WITH THE LIEUTENANT—NIGHT COMING ON, WE ENCAMP IN THE FOREST—RESUMING OUR JOURNEY IN THE MORNING, WE REACH THE CAMP IN SAFETY.

S we proceeded on our journey, I walked alongside the chief, endeavouring to gain from him all the information I could. I was surprised that he had not fallen in with Uncle Jeff, and that he had seen nothing of Lieutenant Broadstreet and Clarice. I supposed that he or his people would certainly have met them on their way to his camp. Winnemak could only account for it by supposing that they had made a detour to avoid some party of the enemy.

"But might they not, then, have been surprised and overcome?" I asked, with much agitation.

"Not if they faced them with a bold front, or kept a proper watch at night," he answered. "Those Arrapahas are cowardly; they will only attack their enemies when they feel secure in their numbers, or can take them by surprise."

"They fought bravely enough when they assaulted Uncle Jeff's farm," I observed. "I should not have called them cowards."

"They had white men with them—and only the bravest of their warriors took part in the fight," he replied.

I could only trust that Winnemak was right in his conjecture, and that we should find Clarice and her escort at the camp. With regard to Uncle Jeff, I was still more anxious, and I began to fear that, notwithstanding his clever trick, he might not have escaped the bullets and arrows of his pursuers; or his horse might have fallen, and he have been taken prisoner. Altogether, my state of mind may be better imagined than described; still, always hopeful, I continued to hope, in spite of the appearance of things, that they would all turn up right at last.

I spoke to the chief on another subject. I was not altogether satisfied as to the way in which he intended to treat his prisoner, and he did not seem at all disposed to enlighten me. I told him how white men always fed their prisoners, and took good care of the wounded; and when war was over, set them free to return to their homes.

"The ways of the Palefaces are not those of the Redskins," he answered evasively. "Piomingo must be treated according to our customs; and my braves would complain were I to set him free to commit more mischief."

I pleaded for the poor wretch that he had not done us any injury as yet; that though he had been watching the camp, we could not tell that he had any sinister object in doing so; and that, as his life had been preserved, it would be barbarous to take it afterwards.

The chief heard me very patiently, but he was evidently unmoved by all my arguments.

I now and then went up and spoke to the poor prisoner, who, I suspected, was still suffering great pain, although Indian fortitude forbade him to give expression to his feelings. I urged his bearers, in the few words I could speak of their language, and by signs, to carry him carefully, for they were inclined to treat him as they would a deer or any other animal they might have shot. I saw the prisoner's eyes turned towards me, but he in no way expressed any gratitude for the service I desired to render him.

Winnemak was all this time keeping a look-out on every side; while several of his men were acting as scouts, so as to give us timely notice of danger.

At night we encamped as before, keeping a strict watch; while the prisoner was bound in a way which would have rendered it difficult for him to escape even had he possessed strength enough to run off. Our camp being pitched in a sheltered position, we lighted a fire, which even at that time of the year was pleasant, if not absolutely necessary; and there was but slight risk of its position betraying our presence to any passing foe.

WINNEMAK'S CAMP.

The next morning we proceeded as before; and I was thankful when at length, just as evening was approaching, the chief told me that we were not far from the camp. I looked out eagerly ahead for the first sight of it, for I hoped to meet Clarice and Uncle Jeff there, and to have my anxiety at last set at rest.

The sun was just tinging the southern side of the snowy mountains on our left, ere it sank below them, when I caught sight of the wigwams of the Kaskaskias, on the slopes of a pine-covered hill. The camp as we drew near did not present a very attractive appearance. The wigwams were such as are only used in summer—a few poles, covered with buffalo hides, or deer skins, more to afford shelter from the heat of the sun, or from a downfall of rain, than protection from the cold. A number of squaws were seated about, some inside the tents nursing pappooses, others tending large pots of broth boiling over fires. A few braves were standing about, and others looking after the horses of the tribe, which they had apparently just driven in from pasture; while a pack of dogs, the most ill-favoured of mongrels ever seen, were squatted about, watching for the offal which might be thrown to them, or ready to rush in and seize any of the meat which might for a moment be left unguarded.

The women, continued at their various employments, but the braves, as we approached, advanced to meet us. The chief halted and addressed them, but I could not follow him. I judged, however, by the intonations of his voice, that he was telling them of his defeat, and the loss of so many of their people. Meantime, I was looking about eagerly for signs of Clarice, Uncle Jeff, and Manley, but nowhere could I see any. Still, I knew it would be contrary to Indian etiquette to interrupt the chief by inquiring for them.

On hearing of the various disasters which had occurred, the men showed but little emotion. The chief, I observed, now pointed to his prisoner, by which I feared the worst for poor Piomingo.

As soon as I could venture to address the braves, I inquired for Clarice and the officer; and great was my dismay to find that they had not arrived at the camp, nor had Uncle Jeff appeared.

The chief now asked for his daughter.

Maysotta had gone out hunting with her favourite dog Keokuk. There was no danger of any harm befalling her while she had so good an attendant, as Keokuk knew when a foe was within a mile or so, and would give her ample warning; as he would were deer, buffalo, bears, or wolves within the same distance.

The chief, seeing my disappointment, endeavoured to console me by saying that perhaps my friends had missed the camp altogether, and had gone on, and that probably we should soon hear of them; a party of his braves were still out on an expedition, and they perhaps had fallen in with Clarice or Uncle Jeff.

No news was received during the night, but, in spite of my anxiety, I was glad to lie down in a corner of the chief's tent and obtain some rest, of which I stood greatly in need. During our journey, when we might at any moment have been attacked by an enemy, I had only slept at intervals.

I had been for some hours, I fancy, fast asleep, when I was awakened by a movement made by the chief, who had been lying near by me, wrapped in his buffalo robe. By the light of the moon, which streamed in through the unclosed entrance, I saw him get up and leave the tent.

Influenced by a motive for which I cannot now account, I rose and followed him. My belief is that I was scarcely awake; indeed, I walked along like a person in a dream. He at once left the camp, and took the way down to the lower and open ground. I was at some distance behind him, so he did not hear my footsteps.

After walking for a quarter of an hour or more, I found myself in the midst of an Indian burial-ground, which I recognized by the number of small platforms, raised on posts and thatched over, rising in all directions. Besides the platforms, I observed several strange-looking figures fixed to the top of tall poles, and composed, as far as I could judge, of bits of coloured rags and skins, which fluttered in a weird fashion in the night breeze.

The chief stopped before a couple of these fantastic-looking objects, and, with folded arms, gazed up at them, uttering some words which I was too far off to hear distinctly, though the sound of his voice reached my ears. He was praying,—of that I could have no doubt,—and these trumpery scarecrows were his idols. I could not have supposed that a man of good sense, as he appeared to be, could be the victim of a superstition so gross and contemptible.

He continued standing for some time, making various signs, and uttering words as before.

Unwilling to be discovered, now that I was fully awake, I was on the point of retreating, when the sound of my footfall reached his ears, and turning round he saw me. I did not wish that he should fancy I was afraid of encountering him, so I at once advanced, and told him frankly how I came to follow him. I assured him, also, that I had had no intention of acting as a spy on his movements. As he appeared to be in no way displeased, I asked him, while we were walking back to the camp, whether he had really been worshipping the figures I had seen.

"Why not?" he inquired in a serious tone. "The times are full of danger and difficulty, and I wished to obtain the protection and support of the guardian spirits of our people. If I did not ask them, how could I expect them to grant me what I want? While I was staying at Roaring Water, I heard your uncle pray to your gods; and I suppose that you expected them to give you what you asked for."

I tried to explain to him that there is but one God, the Great Spirit of whom his people knew, though they were sadly ignorant of his character; and that we never prayed to inferior beings, as our God would not allow us to do so. Much more I said, though at the time with little effect; indeed, the chief was as deeply sunk in the grossest superstition as are the Indian tribes among whom the gospel light has not yet shone.

WINNEMAK AND HIS IDOLS.

On reaching his tent, he bade me lie down again, observing that he would talk over the matter another day.

The next morning I was surprised to find that Maysotta had not returned. Still, her father appeared to feel no anxiety about her.

The sun had been up a couple of hours or so when I heard shouts in the camp, and the chief with all his braves hurried out. They went to welcome the return of a party of their warriors, who marched in singing and shouting,—the leading men having three or four scalps at the end of their spears, while among them were dragged three or four unfortunate Arrapahas, whom they had captured, and who were, according to the Indian custom, to be put to death. Among them, to my surprise and horror, was a young squaw, who, if not beautiful according to my taste, was certainly interesting-looking. She bore herself with as much fortitude, apparently, as the men, although she knew that her fate would be the same as theirs.

The chief had said nothing to me about Piomingo, and I now felt satisfied that it was the intention of his people to sacrifice him with the rest of the prisoners. I resolved, however, to plead for him, as well as for them, and make special endeavours to save the life of the young squaw. According to the savage Indian custom, she would be barbarously tortured before being put to death. It seems strange that human beings can take a pleasure in thus treating their fellow-creatures; it shows how debased, how diabolically cruel, men can become when they have once gone away from God. At present, however, the braves were too much occupied in recounting their deeds of valour to think of their prisoners, who were left bound, and guarded with lynx-eyed watchfulness by some of the old squaws.

I found that this was only one of the parties of braves, and that another was expected shortly with more prisoners. As far as I could understand, these prisoners were said to be white men; but I concluded that they were some of the Mexican outlaws who had accompanied the Arrapahas on their marauding expedition.

While looking out for them, I saw a solitary figure, rifle in hand, approaching the camp, whom I recognized as Maysotta, accompanied by her dog Keokuk. I hastened to meet her, and told her of my anxiety at the non-appearance of Clarice.

"If they do not come, I will go in search of them," she said.

She had killed a deer, so she sent off some of her people, under the guidance of Keokuk, to bring it in. Her dog would, she said, lead them to the spot.

Shortly afterwards, the second band, who were expected, made their appearance in the distance, and, as before, the warriors hurried out to meet them.

I was still talking to Maysotta, when I saw her look towards the approaching party, and an expression of astonishment take possession of her countenance.

"What have our braves been doing?" she said. "They have made a prisoner of our friend the young white chief."

As she spoke, I looked in the same direction, and I too was greatly astonished, and also much alarmed, at seeing Lieutenant Broadstreet, with his arms tied behind him, in the midst of the warriors—his two troopers following, closely guarded.

"What can have happened?" I exclaimed. "What can have become of Clarice and Rachel? My dear sister! some accident must have befallen her."

"I will learn what has happened," said Maysotta.

I hurried to Winnemak, and explained that his people had made prisoners of those who were on their way to visit his camp.

He thought I was mistaken; but I assured him that I was not, and that his daughter would corroborate my statement. On hearing this he ordered the prisoners to be brought forward, when, at once recognizing the lieutenant and the two troopers, he ordered them to be set at liberty.

Hurrying up to my friend, I eagerly inquired for Clarice and her attendant.

His emotion would scarcely allow him to reply. He seemed dreadfully cast down, as well as weak and faint from want of food.

"We had encamped two nights ago," he said, "in a secure spot, as I supposed, and were in hopes the next day of reaching our destination, when just at dusk I saw a band of Indians approaching. To prevent them coming near, I ordered my men to mount and ride forward, while your sister and Rachel remained, as I hoped, concealed from view. The Indians retreated to some distance, and I was induced to follow. They then halted and made signs of friendship, which tempted me to go still nearer. Suddenly, however, as I was about to inquire who they were, and where they were going, they set upon me and my men, without the slightest warning, and before we could even draw our swords or pistols we were dragged from our horses, and our arms bound behind us. At first I thought that our captors must be Arrapahas; but looking again at their costume, I was sure that they were Kaskaskias, belonging to a friendly tribe. In vain I expostulated, and tried to explain who we were; but they did not understand me, mistaking us, I believe, for some of the Mexicans who had accompanied the Arrapahas; at all events, we were dragged ignominiously along, neither food nor water being given us."

I at once told the chief what the lieutenant had said. He was very indignant with his people, but explained that the whole had happened by mistake.

Our first thought, of course, was to discover Clarice and Rachel. The lieutenant himself was eager to start immediately, but he was evidently too weak for the undertaking, and was at once led to the chief's tent, where Maysotta hurried to attend on him, while some of the older squaws took care of his two troopers.

MAYSOTTA AND THE LIEUTENANT.

Maysotta immediately brought him food and water. "Eat," she said; "the 'Fair Lily' is my friend as well as yours; I am as anxious as you are to find her. As soon as you are rested we will set out. Were you to go now, you would faint by the way."

I was standing outside the entrance to the tent while Maysotta was speaking to the lieutenant, and it struck me, from her looks and tone of voice, that she felt a warm interest in the young lieutenant, which might, I feared, prove inconvenient, if it had not worse consequences.

I was watching the Indians, who, having lost their white prisoners, had now brought forward their Redskin captives, and were dancing a horrible war-dance round them. Their appearance on ordinary occasions was somewhat savage, but they looked ten times more savage now, as they shrieked, and leaped, and tossed their arms and legs about, and went round and round, flourishing their tomahawks, and jeering at the unfortunate people in their midst. The latter, knowing that they would not yet be sacrificed, sat in perfect silence, without exhibiting any emotion, and bearing patiently the insults heaped upon them.

I had not abandoned my idea of pleading for the unhappy prisoners, but at this time I was thinking more of Clarice, and the means of recovering her; still, should I go away, I feared that the prisoners might be put to death during my absence. Having seen that the horses of my white friends were turned out on a pasture close at hand, where they could get abundance of grass, I went to the chief and asked him whether he wished to be on friendly terms with the Palefaces?

He said that he certainly did—it was his greatest ambition.

"Then," I replied, "you must live as they do, and imitate their customs. I have told you before, that we do not torture or otherwise injure our prisoners, and that it is our duty to forgive our enemies, and to do them good. Now I want you to promise me that no one shall suffer while I am away."

The chief could not make up his mind to yield, but I urged him again and again, and at last I hoped, from what he said, that he would do as I wished.

The lieutenant was now sufficiently recovered to mount his horse, and, followed by his two troopers, he and I set off in search of Clarice. None of the Indians, however, offered to accompany us, nor did Maysotta, as I thought she would have done; but I found that she had left the camp with her dog and rifle before we started. It was her custom, I discovered, to act in a very independent manner on all occasions, her father never interfering with her.

We pushed forward at as rapid a rate as we could make our horses move; but the ground was at first too rough to allow us to proceed as fast as we wished. When we got to the plain we gave our steeds the rein.

Judging from the report of Winnemak's people who last came in, we had not much risk of encountering any of our foes; indeed, our whole thoughts were entirely occupied by Clarice and Rachel. Had they waited quietly the return of their escort; or had any hostile Indians discovered them, and carried them off as captives? The idea of such an occurrence as that was too horrible to be contemplated. Perhaps they might have caught and mounted their horses, and set off to try and find their way to the camp. In that case we might possibly meet them, and as we rode along we kept a strict look-out on every side.

"Can they possibly have passed us?" I inquired of my companions.

"I do not see how that can be, unless they should have gone very much out of their way; and I remember having pointed out to your sister the position of the Indian camp, so that she would know how to direct her course," answered Manley. "The peculiar form of the mountains above it would be sufficient to guide her."

After all, we felt that there was but little use in talking about the matter, or in surmising what might have happened—though, of course, we did talk on without ceasing.

We at last approached the spot where Manley had left Clarice and her companion. Should we not find them there, we must endeavour to follow their trail; and when I thought of the possibility of having to do this, I regretted not having endeavoured to induce an Indian to accompany us.

"There is the place," said Manley, at length; "but I see no smoke, and had they remained they would certainly have kept up a fire."

We rode forward eagerly; but our fears were realized. The ashes of the fire at the camp were there, but the fire itself had long been extinguished.

Clarice and Rachel must have left the spot some time before!

We searched about in every direction, but could find no traces of their having been there lately, and our eyes were not sufficiently sharp to distinguish the signs which would have enabled an Indian to say in what direction they had gone. We next looked out for their horses, but they were nowhere within sight.

Some time was thus spent, and the day was drawing to a close. Should we not find them before nightfall, we must wait until the next morning. To have to do this was trying in the extreme, but we had to submit, as it was so dark that we could with difficulty see our way as we returned to the deserted camp. My poor friend Manley was dreadfully out of spirits, but I assured him that he had no reason to blame himself. He had acted for the best, and no man could do more.

The next morning we resumed our search; but without success. We were both of us in despair.

"They must have taken their horses and ridden off towards the mountains; it is useless searching for them here any longer," I said.

Manley agreed with me, and, believing that they must have gone on to the camp by a different route from the one we had taken, he was eager to return.

He and his men had pushed ahead through the forest while I stopped to tighten the girths of my saddle; and when I rode forward, expecting immediately to overtake them, I found that I had followed a different direction from that which they had taken.

It is no easy matter, in a thick forest, to regain the right path, or to get up with those who have once been lost sight of. I found it to be so in the present instance. I was sure that I could not be going very far wrong, and expected as soon as I reached the edge of the forest to see my friends, although they might have got some little way ahead on the open ground.

As I was riding on, I fancied that I heard the bark of a dog. I listened, and again heard the same sound. I was now certain that the animal was not far off. To whom could it belong? The dog was not likely to be wandering by itself in the forest. I rode in the direction from whence the sound proceeded, and in a short time reached a somewhat more open part of the forest. Great was my surprise and joy to see my dear little sister Clarice, leaning on the arm of Maysotta, who carried her rifle in her hand, while Keokuk ran beside her.

Leaping from my horse, I sprang towards Clarice, who threw her arms round my neck, exclaiming, "O Ralph, I am so thankful to see you! I have been in a dreadful state of alarm and anxiety, thinking that Manley—I mean Lieutenant Broadstreet—and his men had been killed. Maysotta has somewhat relieved my mind. But where is he? Has he been unable to come and look for me?"

The assurance I gave that Manley was well, and not far off, soon restored Clarice to her usual composure.

Having no longer any fears about Manley's safety, she was able to answer the questions I put to her. After telling me how the lieutenant and his men had ridden off to meet the Indians, she continued:—

"We were sitting before the fire awaiting their return, when what was our dismay to see two huge wolves approaching the camp, followed by a number of cubs! Our first impulse was to fly; and while the wolves stopped to eat up our provisions, we were able to escape to a distance. We took refuge in the hollow of a tree, which afforded us sufficient shelter, and the aperture being some way up, we felt sure the wolves could not make their way in. But Maysotta has been telling me that something dreadful has happened, though I cannot make out what she means."

"I will tell you all about that by-and-by," I answered; "but I am eager to know how Maysotta managed to find you."

"As soon as we thought that the wolves had gone from our camp, Rachel went to see if anything had been left; but the savage creatures had carried off everything, and at the same time frightened away our horses and mules, and they were nowhere to be seen. We remained in the tree for some time, and I do not think anybody would have found us. Then Rachel went away to try and get some berries and roots. She had not been long absent when I heard a dog barking, and looking out through a small hole in the hollow trunk, I saw Maysotta approaching. I therefore stepped out of my place of concealment; and Maysotta, who was delighted to find me, said that she had come out expressly to search for us, and would take us immediately to the camp. Of course, I could not go without Rachel, and we are now on our way to look for her, as she cannot be far off."

FOUND AT LAST!

"Keokuk will find her," said Maysotta, patting her dog on the head, and saying a few words to him.

Away he started, and in a short time we heard him barking loudly. Maysotta, leaving Clarice with me, hurried on, and in a few minutes we saw her approach, guiding Rachel towards us.

Rachel's joy on seeing me was so demonstrative, that I scarcely liked to tell her or my sister of the destruction of the farm. However, it had to be done, and I related all that had taken place. As I proceeded, Rachel gave full vent to her grief, whilst my sister betrayed the sorrow she felt by her tearful and troubled countenance. Rachel wrung her hands and burst into tears, which her own previous perilous position had not been able to draw from her.

"De farm burned!" she exclaimed; "oh dear! oh dear! And what become of Jenny, Nancy, Polly, and all de oder cows, and de pigs and de poultry? And Uncle Jeff, what he do; and Bartle and Gideon?"

I consoled her somewhat by saying that I thought it possible all three had escaped, and that even the cows and pigs might have got away, either into the woods or among the hills.

On hearing this she became somewhat more tranquil, and was able to chat away in her usual style.

We now prepared to set out for the camp. I thought it probable, on account of the delay, that we might not overtake Manley, although I specially wished to do so, in order to put an end to his anxiety. It was, of course, important to recover the horses and baggage-mules, and Maysotta proposed that she should conduct us to the edge of the forest, where we could remain while she, with Keokuk, searched for the animals,—expressing, at the same time, her confidence of success.

Having placed Clarice on my horse, I led the animal by the rein till we reached the spot proposed. We looked out to the westward for Manley and his troopers, and were greatly disappointed at not seeing them. So, I suspect, was Clarice. We had not, however, waited long until I caught sight of three horsemen. They came rapidly on, and to my great satisfaction I distinguished our friends. On observing us they put spurs to their horses, and the lieutenant galloped forward.

Clarice met him with a sweet smile.

"I felt very sure that you had not willingly deserted us," she answered, when, in an agitated voice, Manley told her of the anguish of his mind at finding himself a prisoner in the hands of the Indians, leaving her unprotected in the forest.

As we could not tell how long Maysotta might be absent, we lighted a fire and cooked some provisions, of which both Clarice and Rachel stood greatly in need. The Indian damsel, however, had been so confident about finding the horses, that I was not surprised to see Keokuk driving them towards us, a short time before sunset.

Maysotta expressed her satisfaction at finding the young white chief, as she called Manley, and his men with us. "As it is now too late to set off to-night," she said, "we must remain here. There are water and grass near at hand; and if your men will do as I direct them, we will quickly put up a wigwam for Clarice, the black woman, and me."

Manley and I offered to act under her directions; but, except that we cut some rough sticks, and transported some bark, she really gave us very little to do,—performing nearly the whole of the architectural operations with her own hands.

I was thankful that Clarice would thus have shelter, and be able to obtain the rest which she so much required.

Maysotta had shot several small animals, and these, with the provisions we had brought, afforded us an abundant supper.

The night was passed without any interruption, and early the next morning we set off for Winnemak's camp. I offered to take Maysotta on my horse, but she declined, saying that she would proceed on foot, as she hoped to shoot some deer by the way.

We rode as fast as we could; indeed, I was most anxious to get back, both on account of the unhappy captives, and because I hoped to hear news of Uncle Jeff.

As we got into the neighbourhood of the camp, we caught sight, on the summit of a slight elevation, of a single horseman, who sat his steed without moving, apparently unable to make out who we were, as, lifting his hand to his brow, he peered at us from under it. We had got within speaking distance before I recognized our host Winnemak. His whole appearance and bearing were totally changed. With a magnificent crown of feathers on his head, a jacket of rich fur handsomely trimmed, glittering bracelets and earrings, a spear in his hand and a shield at his back, as he firmly sat his strongly-built mustang, he looked every inch a warrior chief.

"I did not know you at first, but I do now," he said, smiling; "and the White Lily is truly welcome to my tents."

Clarice thanked him, and we rode to the camp together. He told us that he purposed visiting the chiefs of all the neighbouring tribes and forming a confederation, in order to resist effectually any future invasion of our common enemies the Arrapahas. "For such a purpose a chief must be habited as becomes a chief," he added, to account to us for the change in his costume.

I scarcely listened to him, however, as I was eagerly waiting to inquire if Uncle Jeff had arrived at the camp; and I was much disappointed to find that nothing had been seen or heard of him.

WINNEMAK IN FULL DRESS.

CHAPTER VIII.

I SEEK OUT PIOMINGO—A STRONG DESIRE TO SAVE HIS LIFE—I PLEAD WITH THE CHIEF, AND GAIN MY POINT—I OFFER THE YOUNG BRAVE MY HORSE AND ARMS—KINDNESS REQUITED—THE INDIAN'S ESCAPE—A DARING ACT, AND A KIND DEED—WE SEEK PROTECTION FROM THE INDIANS—RETURN OF UNCLE JEFF AND MAYSOTTA—AN ADDRESS TO THE BRAVES—HOW IT SUCCEEDED—UNCLE JEFF'S STORY—THE LIEUTENANT ABOUT TO LEAVE US—HIS PLANS—WE SEND OUT SCOUTS—ALARMING INTELLIGENCE—THE CAMP STRUCK—WE MOVE TO THE NORTHWARD—WE CHANGE OUR PLANS—A WONDERFUL REGION—WE SEPARATE FROM OUR INDIAN FRIENDS—THROUGH A PINE FOREST—THE CATARACT OF THE PASS—WE SEND BACK OUR HORSES—OUR JOURNEY CONTINUED—A "CANADA STAG" KILLED—ENCAMPED FOR THE NIGHT.

HE chief, who seemed inclined to treat us with every kindness, immediately ordered a wigwam to be put up for Clarice and Rachel, and another for Manley and me.

In the meantime, feeling interested in the fate of Piomingo, I went to seek him out. I found him lying on the ground, under the shade of some trees, to one of which he was secured by ropes. I asked him if he desired to escape.

"Yes," he replied; "life is sweet. But I am prepared to die as becomes a brave, if my enemies are resolved to take my life."

"If you were free, what would you do?" I asked. "I would endeavour to rescue the young squaw who was brought in a prisoner two days ago; she is the maiden I was about to make my wife. Life without her would be of little value to me; were she to be put to death, I should be ready to die with her."

"But are you able to move?" I asked.

"The pain has left my back, and I am as strong as ever," he answered. "Give me the opportunity, and you will see how I shall act."

Feeling a strong desire to save the lives of these two young people at every risk, I immediately went back to the chief, and used every argument in my power to induce him to set Piomingo at liberty. I pointed out to him how it was far more noble to forgive an injury than to avenge it, and that if he allowed Piomingo to go free he would make him his friend for life.

"If you choose to set him at liberty, you are welcome to do so," he said at last; "but he is unable to move, and if he remains in this camp he will be killed."

"I will see to that, and assist him to get away," I answered.

I hurried back to where Piomingo lay, and at once undid the cords which bound him.

"I feel that my strength has returned, and that I shall be able to perform whatever I undertake," he said.

"I do not wish to do things by halves," I remarked. "You shall have my horse; I will place the animal in yonder wood. If you have an opportunity, you can return him; but if not, I will give him to you."

"Young Paleface," he said, struck by my kindness, "Piomingo would wish to serve you for the remainder of his days; perhaps he will have an opportunity of showing his gratitude; but he would ask you to show him your generosity still further. Supply him with arms; without them, he may fall a victim to the first foe he meets."

"I will give you my knife and sword, but you must promise me not to use them against any of the people of this tribe except in self-defence, should they attempt to recapture you."

Piomingo swore by the Great Spirit that he would act as I desired.

"I will leave the sword and knife close to the tree to which I will secure my horse," I said on leaving him.

I thought it better not to question him as to his intentions in regard to the young squaw, although I had my suspicions on the subject.

I forthwith went for my horse, which I led to the wood, as I had promised. All the Indians were so much engaged that they took no notice of my proceedings; and when every arrangement had been made, I returned to Piomingo.

Grasping my hand, he exclaimed,—"You are more generous than I deserve; for when I went to your farm it was with the intention of working you evil. But after I saw the 'Fair Lily,' your sister, I had not the heart to do her an injury; and instead of remaining and opening the gate to your enemies, as I had intended, I made my escape. When I was watching your camp, it was with no treacherous design. I wished to warn you that the Arrapahas were still advancing, and that their purpose was to occupy the passes through the mountains, so that they could intercept you and any other Palefaces who might travel in that direction. They must, by this time, have carried out that part of their plan, so that I would advise you and your friends to pass on more to the north, by which means you may escape them. I have also to tell you that one of your people is in their hands. They have been carrying him about with them from place to place; but whether they intend to kill him, as they have done the other prisoners, I could not learn."

I thanked Piomingo for his information, which, I felt sure, gratitude had prompted him to give. And, of course, I resolved to urge the chief to act upon it.

On questioning Piomingo, I was convinced, from the description he gave of the white man who had been made prisoner, that it must be either Gideon or Bartle. I had great hopes, at all events, that Uncle Jeff had escaped from his pursuers; but what had since become of him I could not conjecture, nor could Piomingo give me any information.

It was now sufficiently dark to allow of the captive making his escape without being observed. I again cast off the ropes, therefore, and stole quietly away from the spot. The moment I had gone, he must have crept away—crouching down, Indian fashion, until he had got to a safe distance from the camp, when, having first secured the weapons I had left for him, he must have mounted my horse and galloped off.

The next day had been fixed for the death of the prisoners, so I boldly told the chief that, taking advantage of his permission, I had set Piomingo at liberty, and urged him to be equally generous towards the young squaw.

"My people will complain if they are disappointed," he answered, turning aside.

I was sorry that I could not see Maysotta, as she might have effectually pleaded for one of her own sex.

Stakes had now been driven into the ground, and every preparation made for the horrible sacrifice. But, looking at the captives, I should not have supposed that they were to be the victims. Even the young squaw retained her composure.

I spoke to Manley on the subject. "We must not allow these savages to carry out their cruel intention," I said. "If you and your men will assist, we might set them free."

"I would gladly do as you propose," he answered, "but it would be at the sacrifice, probably, of our own lives and that of your sister. These Redskins now treat us with every respect; but were we to interfere with their customs, they would naturally turn upon us."

I felt that he was right in that respect; but still I could not bear the thought of allowing the horrible deed to be perpetrated, without again interceding for the victims.

The hour now approached for the death of the prisoners, and finding that Piomingo had escaped, the Redskins were the more eager to put to death those who remained in their power. They were therefore led out and bound to the stakes, and the savages commenced their horrible war-dance round them.

Manley and I again pleaded with the chief.

"It is useless," answered Winnemak; "I have said it, and it must be done."

Just then, from behind the shelter of a wood on one side of the mountains, a mounted warrior dashed out. I saw at once that it was Piomingo. His eyes were fixed on one point; it was the spot where the young squaw was bound. Quick as lightning he cut the cords which bound her, and placing her before him on the saddle, galloped off, and was out of reach before those at hand could hinder him. Fortunately, none of Winnemak's people had firearms, and their bows and arrows having been laid aside, they hurried to their wigwams to obtain them. But ere bow could be drawn the rescued squaw and her deliverer were far beyond their reach. In vain were showers of arrows sent after them; the fugitives heeded them not. Many of the braves ran for their horses; but I well knew that my gallant steed, even with two people on his back, could keep ahead of them.

The whole camp was soon in confusion and astonishment at the audacity of the act. Some of the braves may have suspected that I had had a hand in the business, for I observed that they cast angry glances at me as they passed. So great was their excitement, too, that for the moment they had forgotten the other prisoners.

Just then I met Sergeant Custis and Pat Sperry.

"Now is our time to do a kind deed," I said; "it may be at some risk, but let us set the other prisoners free."

"Sure, won't I, thin!" cried Pat.

"I will venture on it," said the sergeant.

We hurried to the spot, and, in spite of the expostulations of a few old squaws who had remained to watch them, we cut the ropes which bound the unhappy captives to the stakes.

"Now run for your lives!" I exclaimed.

The released prisoners did not require a second bidding, although the old squaws tried to stop them. They were all young and active men, too, and before any of the braves had returned from their futile chase after Piomingo, the fugitives had got to a considerable distance from the camp.

As I knew that our part in the affair must at once become known, I immediately hastened to the chief.

"I have saved you from committing a great crime, which would have made you despised and hated by all white men," I exclaimed, with a boldness at which I myself was surprised. "If my uncle were here he would speak as I do, and approve of my conduct."

The chief appeared to be dumfounded at my audacity; but, although he himself would not have interfered, I do not think he was really sorry that the prisoners had escaped.

"I must get you to protect us from your people when they return," I said. "We have no wish to take the places of the prisoners, or to have bloodshed in the matter. At the same time, we are resolved to fight for our lives, should your people attempt to molest us."

"You indeed speak boldly," said the chief. "But I will endeavour to prevent further mischief, and will tell my people all you have said."

Almost immediately afterwards the braves came hurrying back to the camp, when the old squaws commenced in screeching tones to tell them what had occurred. The warriors on this advanced towards us with threatening looks. The chief stepped forward, and holding up his hands, they at once stopped and prepared to listen to him. He possibly may have made a very eloquent speech in our favour, but his braves were evidently not satisfied. We saw them making violent gestures, and, from the words which reached us, I made out that they insisted on our being delivered up to suffer in the place of the prisoners we had liberated.

Lieutenant Broadstreet, who had now joined us, rifle in hand, told me to say to the chief that if his people were injured an army of white men would be sent by his Government against them, and not one would be allowed to escape.

Although, I believe, the chief spoke as I begged him, the angry braves were not to be appeased, still crying out that we must be handed over to them.

"Not while we have got a cartridge left in our pouches," cried Sergeant Custis, lifting his rifle as he spoke, as if he intended to make use of it, while Manley, Pat, and I followed his example.

Just at this juncture two persons were seen approaching the camp,—the one was Maysotta, accompanied by Keokuk, the other was a tall person dressed in skins. At first I did not recognize him; but on looking again, what was my joy to see Uncle Jeff! Both he and Maysotta must have observed that something unusual was taking place in the camp, for they hurried forward at a quick pace, and in another moment had approached the chief.

Uncle Jeff at once put out his hand. "What does all this mean?" he asked.

Winnemak was silent.

"I will tell you all about it, Uncle Jeff," I said; and I briefly related what had occurred.

"You acted rightly, Ralph," he answered. "It would never do for white men to stand by and see murder committed, which proper boldness could prevent. Hand me a few cartridges, for I have expended my ammunition; and although we are five to fifty, I feel very sure these fellows will not interfere with us. However, we will try fair means first; and the young squaw will, I am sure, be on our side."

He at once turned to Maysotta, and telling her what had occurred, begged her to plead with her father and his people. She did not seem to think it necessary to say anything to Winnemak, but at once addressed herself to the braves, over whom it was evident she had great influence.

I saw the angry expression gradually disappear from their countenances; their gestures became less menacing, and at length their fury completely subsided. Maysotta saw the advantage she had gained, and went on to tell them that we were their guests, and that, even had we been guilty of a greater provocation, they were bound to protect our lives with their own; that we had always been friendly with the red men; and, above all, that we had preserved the life of their chief, who, had it not been for us, would have died. She by this means completely won over the braves, but she had a harder task with the old squaws. Finally, however, she succeeded with them, and what appeared at one time to threaten a serious termination was at length settled to the satisfaction of all parties.

We promised, as soon as we could obtain them, presents of tobacco, blankets, and beads for the squaws, and some arms and ammunition for the braves, on condition that they would always use them in our service.

We were, of course, very eager to hear how Uncle Jeff had escaped. I noticed, besides, that he looked fatigued and careworn, and had evidently suffered much.

THE MEETING WITH MAYSOTTA.

"I had a narrow escape from my pursuers, on leaving the farm," he said, "for more than one bullet whistled close to my ears, while two entered the sides of my brave Jack—who bore me, notwithstanding, for many a mile, until I had left my enemies far behind. Then my gallant steed sank down and died. As I was making my way northward on foot, I caught sight of several parties of Arrapahas. This made me feel very anxious on account of Clarice and her escort, who, I feared, might have fallen into their hands. I myself had some difficulty in avoiding them, and at length I found it necessary to take to the mountains, where, at the same time, I should have a better chance of killing game. Unfortunately, for the first time in my life I became very ill, and had to remain, for several days in a cave, hardly able to crawl out and get a draught of water from a spring hard by. Recovering, I moved on again; but having exhausted the few cartridges I possessed, I was reduced to hard straits for food.

"I was making my way on when I heard a shot fired; and as I approached the spot, I saw a young Indian girl who had just killed a small deer. Her quick eye caught sight of me at the same moment. I made signs to her that I was desperately hungry, and she in turn pointed to the deer; so, as she appeared in no way alarmed at seeing me, I at once went up to her. After exchanging a few words, it occurred to me that she must be the daughter of our friend Winnemak; and on my asking her, she said that such was the case. I then informed her who I was; upon which she immediately cut up the deer, lighted a fire, and prepared such a meal as I had not enjoyed for many a day. I soon felt my strength wonderfully restored, and my spirits rose when she told me that Clarice and you were safe. We accordingly at once set off for the camp, and I am thankful that we arrived in time to settle matters amicably with our friends here."

The arrival of Uncle Jeff produced a great improvement in the state of affairs. The Indians had all heard of him, and Winnemak treated him with the greatest respect. Uncle Jeff was indeed likely to exercise a beneficial influence over the tribe. He told them that although men had a right to defend themselves against their enemies, the Great Spirit disliked their making war one upon another; that he wished them all to live at peace with their fellow-creatures; to provide proper food, clothing, and shelter for their squaws and pappooses; and that the Great Spirit intended that they should cultivate the ground, and not depend upon the precarious supply which the chase afforded. Uncle Jeff told them also that the Great Spirit loved them all, and wished them to be his children; that they were very wicked, but that he was ready to forgive them, and had sent One on earth, his own dear Son, who had consented to be punished instead of them, that he might become their Elder Brother, and that they might enjoy the affection and privileges bestowed by the Father upon his children.

Uncle Jeff was not much of a preacher, but, as he said, he might manage to break ground, so that any missionary coming after him would be more likely to be well received.

Clarice did not fail to talk to Maysotta on the same subject; and the Indian girl appeared to take in the truths of the gospel much more readily than did the men of her tribe.

Although the camp was pitched in a tolerably secure position, both Uncle Jeff and Winnemak considered it necessary to send out scouts in order to ascertain what the enemy were about.

Lieutenant Broadstreet, who had no longer any excuse for remaining with us, felt that it was his duty to proceed, with the two troopers, on his journey. But he was evidently very unwilling to leave Clarice; and I suspect that she also had no wish to let him go.

"I cannot tell to what dangers you may be exposed, and I shall be in a miserable state of anxiety until I once more have the happiness of seeing you," he said to her. "My intention is to point out the state of affairs to the commandant at Fort Harwood, and induce him to obtain such a body of troops as will effectually overawe the savages and drive them back to the southward, so that your uncle and other settlers may be able to resume possession of their property, and for the future live in peace. The sooner, therefore, I set out, the more quickly will this desirable object be attained."

"I highly applaud your intention, lieutenant," said Uncle Jeff; "and I speak honestly when I say that, if you wish at any time to turn your sword into a ploughshare, as the saying is, I shall be happy to have you for a neighbour; and come when you may, you shall always be welcome at Roaring Water. I hope that it will not be long before I am back there again. I only wish I knew what has become of Bartle and Gideon; if they are alive, we shall very soon get the farm built up again, and everything put to rights."

The first of the scouts who had been sent out soon came back, with the information that the enemy were still in considerable numbers in the neighbourhood. Winnemak and Uncle Jeff agreed, therefore, that it would be prudent to move further to the north, in consequence of what Piomingo had told me. Camp was accordingly struck, and the baggage animals—which, I am sorry to say, for the sake of my Redskin friends, included a number of the squaws—were loaded. A small party of warriors going ahead acted as an advance-guard, while the remainder of the tribe brought up the rear, or went as scouts on either hand.

As the lieutenant had to follow the same road for some distance, we continued together,—he, as may be supposed, riding alongside of Clarice. I do not know what Uncle Jeff thought about the matter, but it was evident to me that Clarice and Manley were very fond of one another. However, as I thought highly of him, I did not feel myself called upon to interfere in the matter.

We had proceeded some distance, when another of the scouts came in with the alarming intelligence that the enemy, in considerable numbers, were ahead of us, and that it was too probable they intended to attack us on our march. We had therefore to proceed with greater caution than before; and the advance-guard was considerably strengthened, so that they might be able to keep an enemy in check until the remainder of the tribe could come up.

It was too evident that the Arrapahas had overrun the country, and that it would be some time before they could be expelled; and, such being the case, Uncle Jeff said he would fix upon another location, perhaps to the west of the Rocky Mountains, where the Indians were friendly, and where he would still be near enough to the high-road to obtain a market for his produce.

He had, consequently, just settled to accompany the lieutenant through the pass, when another scout came in with the information that the Arrapahas had taken possession of the pass itself, and that they had so fortified themselves that they could not be driven out except by a strong party, and at considerable loss of life.

This made it necessary for Uncle Jeff and Manley to change their plans. They settled that we should proceed northwards with the Indians, while they reconnoitred the pass; promising, should they find the account they had received to be correct, to rejoin us, and perhaps attempt to cross the mountains so as to reach the western plains. The mountains to the northwards, however, were but little known, and even Winnemak confessed that he had never wandered among them. He had heard, he said, that there was a wonderful region in that direction, where the earth trembled frequently; the fountains, instead of being cold, were hot, and that the water was seen rushing upwards in huge jets; and that there were lakes amid the mountains, and torrents, and waterfalls such as were nowhere else to be seen.

"If the chief's account is correct, it must be an interesting region to visit," said Sergeant Custis. "For my own part, I hope we shall have the chance of getting there."

While travelling on we kept in compact order, looking out, as usual, for the approach of foes; but happily none appeared. Crossing the road which led to the pass, we continued onwards until nightfall. We then encamped in as strong a position as we could find. We knew it was of no use to attempt concealing the route we had followed; for even had we taken the greatest pains to do so, we should not have succeeded in eluding the sharp eyes of our foes, had they wished to pursue us.

Soon after it grew dark, the sounds of horses' feet were heard. The braves flew to arms. We stood ready with our rifles. Before we could see any one, Uncle Jeff's voice was heard, and he and Manley rode into camp. They had found that the report of the scouts was correct, and that we could not hope to be able to get through in that direction. Accordingly, the next morning we again started, and pushed on until we reached a spot strongly guarded by rocks and trees, with a stream flowing on one side. Here Winnemak, believing himself secure from his foes, resolved to remain.

IN THE PINE FOREST.

We now made preparations to separate from our Indian friends. None of them were willing to encounter the fatigue and dangers necessary to be undergone in crossing the mountains; they also evidently believed the region to be enchanted, and, if inhabited at all, to be the abode of spirits, or beings differing greatly from the human race. When Maysotta heard we were going, she begged Clarice and Rachel to remain with her; but Clarice had made up her mind to accompany us, and was fully prepared for all the difficulties we might have to encounter. Fortunately, Lieutenant Broadstreet had sufficient supplies of provisions for all our wants. We were thus not altogether destitute of the necessaries of life, for we had, I remember, even tea and coffee, sugar and salt. The lieutenant had also a very small bell-tent, the canvas of which formed scarcely half a load for a man. He himself seldom used it, but he insisted that it should be brought, to afford shelter to Clarice. Three or four Indians, moreover, agreed to accompany us as far as our baggage-mules could go, that they might convey our provisions and stores; after which we should have to carry them ourselves in knapsacks on our backs.

On parting with Winnemak, he told us that we should come back sooner than we expected, as he was sure we should never get over the mountains.

"'Where there's a will there's a way.' There is nothing like having the will to do a thing, to help one to succeed," answered Uncle Jeff.

Our guides were under the belief that the only practicable way in which they could get to the region they had heard of, was by following up a torrent which, they said, came down from the far-off snowy summits of the mountains in a succession of cataracts. For some distance we travelled through a dense pine forest, following the course of a stream into which we concluded the torrent fell. We frequently had to turn aside to avoid the numberless fallen trunks, or to dismount and lead our animals over them. We thus made but slow progress, and were compelled to encamp in the midst of the forest at a much earlier hour than would have been necessary in the open country. We kept up a blazing fire, however, and happily escaped a visit from bears, or any of the savage animals whose voices we heard round us on every side.

The next morning we moved forward, and looked out eagerly for a torrent. At length we heard the roar of tumbling waters, and making our way through the forest we came in sight of a cataract which altogether surpassed that of our own location. It appeared to be formed of several streams, which, rushing forth from the snowy heights, joined the main body, and then came leaping downwards in one vast mass of water, with a strength sufficient, it would seem, to force its way through the hardest rock. There could be no doubt that this was the very cataract we were in search of.

To carry our animals farther, would be impossible; indeed, had they been able to make their way, they would not have found sufficient grass for their sustenance in the rocky region we were approaching. We accordingly encamped on a level spot not far from the cataract. When I surveyed the wild and difficult region which we had to pass, I regretted that Clarice had accompanied us, and wished that she had remained with the Indians. Besides the fatigue which we must undergo, I feared that we might run short of provisions, and that my sister might be exposed to other hardships, which she was little able to endure.

THE CATARACT OF THE PASS.

She laughed at my fears.

"You do not know how strong I am; I shall be able to go through as much as any of you," she said. "Although I like Maysotta, I should not have been happy among her savage tribe."

The next morning we sent the animals back, and loaded ourselves with packs of provisions. Rachel carried as much as any one of us, and Clarice insisted on having a load likewise—although Manley, who made it up, took good care that it should be a very light one.

The first day's journey was not so fatiguing as we expected to find it, for we managed to wend our way upward on the slopes of the hills, avoiding the more broken and steep places. We were soon satisfied, too, that there was no risk of running short of food, for several times we came upon herds of deer; although, as we approached them without care, they scampered off before we were near enough to get a shot.

We had made our way through another pine forest, and had just turned an angle in the mountains, when suddenly before us we saw several wapiti, commonly known as the "Canada stag," one of the largest of the deer tribe. This animal is fully as large as the biggest ox I ever saw; his horns, branching in serpentine curves, being upwards of six feet from tip to tip. In colour he is reddish-brown; on the upper part of the neck the hairs are mixed with red and black, while from the shoulders and along the sides the hide is a kind of gray.

The stags stopped and gazed at us stupidly, without taking to flight, then began to utter cries which sounded wonderfully like the braying of an ass; upon which Uncle Jeff lifted his unerring rifle and brought one of them down, when the rest, taking fright, scampered off.

He and the two soldiers immediately began cutting up the animal.

"I wish we could take the hide with us, for it makes the best leather anywhere to be found," Uncle Jeff observed; "but we must not add to our loads."

As the day was now drawing to a close, we had not far to carry the meat we had just obtained; and coming to a spot near one of the numerous streams which fed the "big cataract," we encamped. As before, the small bell-tent, which Pat Sperry had carried, was erected for Clarice and Rachel; while we made our beds of fir-tops, round our camp-fire, with such shelter as our blankets and a few boughs afforded. We were too well accustomed to this sort of life, however, to consider it any hardship.

We had no longer any fear of being attacked by Indians, but it was still necessary to keep a watch by night, for it was very possible that a grizzly might take it into his head to pay us a visit, or a pack of wolves find us out; or a prowling panther might pounce down upon us, should the fire go out, and no one be on the alert to drive him off.

WAPITI OF THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS.

CHAPTER IX.

WE CONTINUE OUR JOURNEY OVER THE MOUNTAINS, AND ENCAMP IN A FERTILE VALLEY—HUNT ELK IN COMPANY WITH A PANTHER—I SPOIL THE SPORT OF THE LATTER—UNCLE JEFF WOUNDS AN ELK, WHICH IS LOST DOWN A PRECIPICE—MORE FORTUNATE AFTERWARDS—UNCLE JEFF RESOLVES TO REMAIN WITH CLARICE, RACHEL, AND PAT, WHILE MANLEY, THE SERGEANT, AND I PUSH ON—DIFFICULTIES IN CROSSING THE MOUNTAINS—MANLEY IN FEARFUL DANGER—HE ESCAPES—DESCEND TOWARDS A BROAD VALLEY—ITS WONDERFUL APPEARANCE—WE ENCAMP—THE SERGEANT NEARLY SCALDS HIS FINGERS IN A TEMPTING SPRING—CURIOUS PHENOMENON—DREADFUL NOISES OF WILD BEASTS DISTURB OUR SLUMBERS.

HE next day, at an early hour, we were again on the move, Clarice and Rachel trudging on bravely with the help of long thin poles, the points hardened in the fire. Onwards and upwards we went, sometimes passing through dense forests, and climbing over the trunks of fallen trees; at others making our way through glades, where, sheltered from the sun, the walking was comparatively easy. On emerging into the more open ground, we searched for some cañon or cleft in the mountains through which we might find a passage. As for going over the summits of the mountains, that was evidently impossible. They consisted of jagged pinnacles, or precipitous rocks covered with snow; and even the most experienced mountaineers, supplied with ropes and all other appliances, could not hope to surmount them.

At length, after traversing for some distance the mountain-side, we saw before us a deep gorge, at the bottom of which rushed a torrent towards the east.

"If we can find holding ground for our feet, we may get through there," said Manley.

Uncle Jeff agreed with him, so we made towards it. For ourselves we had no fears, but we naturally felt very anxious for Clarice, who must suffer from fatigue with such rough and dangerous climbing as lay before us; although, in reality, with her correct eye and active feet, she was as secure on the giddy heights and snowy ledges over which we passed as any one of us.

Poor Rachel felt the cold greatly, and was less able to get along than her young mistress. Still she persevered. "If you go I go, Missee Clarice; never mind where," said the faithful creature; although very often she crept along on her hands and knees rather than trust herself to an upright position.

Thus, climbing along the side of the precipice, with a gorge so deep on one side that the bottom was invisible, and the mountain rising on the other apparently lost in the skies, we worked our way on until, after descending again for some distance, we reached more level ground. It was a large valley or plateau surrounded by mountains; those we had crossed being on the one side, while a still more elevated range occupied the other. Wild as was the scenery through which we had passed, this was wilder still. It was traversed, however, by the stream whose course we had followed, and although we were unable to see its source, there could be no doubt that it descended from the lofty range before us. A portion of the plateau was covered by a forest, nourished by numerous rivulets, most of which flowed into larger streams, although some found an outlet towards the southward. No signs of inhabitants were visible; but game of every kind was most abundant, herds of deer, mountain sheep, and birds of all descriptions.

"I am not the man to propose going back," said Uncle Jeff; "but unless we can find an opening in these rocks, it is very clear that our present party cannot go forward. I propose, therefore, that we should camp here until we have explored the country ahead, after which we shall be able to form our plans."

He looked towards Clarice as he spoke. He had resolved not to expose her to the fatigue and peril which his experience told him must inevitably be endured by those attempting to make their way through so wild a region as that before us. He therefore selected a suitable spot for camping. Clarice's tent was put up, and we cut down poles and boughs with which to form a couple of small huts for ourselves. Uncle Jeff, Manley, and I had one, and the two men the other.

While the sergeant and Pat were employed in erecting the huts, the rest of us took our rifles and started in search of game, and before long we caught sight, towards the northern end of the valley, of several elk or moose feeding near a wood. It was necessary to approach them cautiously, however, for should they take the alarm they would be off at a rate which would give us little chance of overtaking them. But the wind came from them to us, and this was to our advantage.

The elk is one of the most wary of the deer tribe, and, notwithstanding his enormous horns, he can pass through a thick forest, as he throws them back on his shoulders so as in no way to impede his progress. Large as was the wapiti which we had before met with, the elk is still larger, and one of the animals we saw before us was fully seven feet in height—as tall, indeed, as many an elephant. As the flesh is very palatable food, we were eager to kill one or more of the herd. Uncle Jeff, too, said that he wanted the skins to assist in making a tent, in case we should have to remain some time at our present location.

Creeping along, then, as much under cover as possible, we endeavoured to get within shot of the animals. We succeeded at last in reaching the wood, and hoped, by making our way through it concealed by the trees, to get up to them before we were discovered. Uncle Jeff led the way, while Manley and I followed in Indian file. It was important not only to keep ourselves concealed, but to avoid making any noise, as the elk has a remarkably acute sense of hearing, and the slightest sound might startle the herd.

ELK OF THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS.

We had succeeded in gaining a spot a thousand yards or so from them, when I heard a noise in the bushes on our left, and rather ahead, the herd being on the right. On looking narrowly in the direction from whence the sound came, I caught sight of a panther, or "American lion," as the beast is commonly called, stealing along, very probably on the same errand as we were,—hoping to pounce upon one of the females of the herd, could he catch his prey unprepared. He is bound to be cautious, however, how he attacks a buck, for the elk can do battle with his horns and hoofs, and might disable even the savage panther.

Uncle Jeff saw the brute as soon as I did, and turning round, he made a sign to me to aim at the panther the moment he should fire at the elk. In the meantime, the panther was so intent on reaching his expected prey that he was not likely to observe us. As may be supposed, I kept a watchful eye on the wild beast, for he might possibly become aware of our presence; and if so, might content himself with a human being for his supper instead of venison, and I had no fancy to give him an opportunity of selection.

It was very exciting having both the panther and deer before us. Frequently Uncle Jeff stopped, fearful of being discovered by the elk; while the panther, for the same reason, did likewise. Thus the savage beast would creep on and on, crouching down and concealing himself from view. He so far interfered with our sport, that we could have the chance of killing only two deer instead of three; for I was to reserve my fire for his benefit, and I ardently hoped I should not miss. I tried to make Manley understand that it would be prudent in him not to fire until he saw whether my bullet took effect, but I could not be certain what he would do.

Our progress was now slower than ever. Several times the deer had looked up, apparently suspecting that danger was near; but still Uncle Jeff advanced, in a stooping posture, unwilling to stir even the smallest twig for fear of alarming the wary herd. I moved on more rapidly; the panther was now not more than twenty yards from us, and would in a few seconds make his deadly spring.

Suddenly Uncle Jeff stopped, raised his rifle to his shoulder, and fired. The panther at that moment was rising, about to dash forward from the brushwood. I pulled the trigger; at the same instant Manley fired—he had aimed at the deer—and as the smoke cleared away I saw the panther fall back on the ground.

The deer were now in full flight, so I followed Uncle Jeff and Manley in the direction the herd were taking towards the north end of the valley. What means they had of escape we could not tell; we hoped that, shut in by the mountain, we might again get near enough to have another shot.

The wounded elk was evidently severely hurt, for his pace now began to slacken, so Uncle Jeff cheered us on. We saw, however, that unless we could soon come up with the chase he might escape us altogether. The appearance of the country had changed, too; while rocks arose at some distance, there was evidently a vast intervening chasm between us and them.

DISAPPOINTED HUNTERS.

Once more Uncle Jeff fired, but, although the bullet took effect, the deer continued his course. Almost immediately afterwards, what was our disappointment to see the wounded animal, regardless of the fate he was about to suffer, spring over the edge of a precipice, while the rest of the herd scampered away towards some almost inaccessible rocks on the left!

The elk was irretrievably lost. In vain we searched for a way by which we might reach the bottom of the gorge; we were soon convinced that the cliff was utterly impracticable.

"It can't be helped," cried Uncle Jeff; "but we must not give up the hope of obtaining some venison this evening. The elk will not long remain out on these barren rocks, and if we can hide ourselves near where they have to pass, we may each of us kill one."

We were not long in finding some thick bushes behind which we could kneel and take good aim at the passing deer.

"Do not let us be greedy," said Uncle Jeff; "you and Manley, Ralph, select one animal, and I will take another."

In half an hour or less the deer came trotting back towards their former feeding-ground, and we all three fired; Uncle Jeff knocked over a buck, and we killed a doe.

It took us some time to cut them up, and it was nearly dark before we reached the spot where I had shot the panther. Anxious to know whether it was still alive, I made my way through the wood to the place, but could nowhere find the animal. Had it escaped, notwithstanding its wound? It was too dark, however, to search for it; so we hurried on as fast as we could with our load of venison to the camp, where Clarice was eagerly looking out for us. The huts were erected by this time, and a blazing fire lighted; and I noticed that Clarice's tent had been carefully staked round by the sergeant, so that no wild beast could break suddenly into it.

"I am afraid, Miss Middlemore, that you will grow very weary of the rough life we are compelled to lead," observed Manley.

"Oh no! I enjoy it very much indeed," she answered, looking up in his face, "and shall be really sorry when it comes to an end."

"I doubt that very much, young lady," said Uncle Jeff. "We have only just commenced the passage of the mountains, and I have made up my mind not to let you go on unless some tolerably easy path can be found over them. I am very much afraid, however, that we shall not discover one fit for you to travel on."

"Then what are we to do, Uncle Jeff?" asked Clarice.

"I will tell you," he answered. "I propose remaining here with one of the men, while Lieutenant Broadstreet, the other man, and Ralph, try to make their way across the mountains. They may manage to do it; but if they had you with them, they would probably fail—no disrespect to your prowess, so don't pout your lips."

"What do you say to my plan, lieutenant?"

"Although I would rather have Miss Middlemore's company, yet I confess that I should be often very anxious about her and her servant venturing into places through which I should not hesitate to penetrate alone. I consider your plan, therefore, under the circumstances, the best that could be adopted; and as you promise me the assistance of Ralph, I will leave Pat Sperry to attend on you—and Pat is a trustworthy fellow, when the liquor bottle is kept out of his way."

I do not think Clarice liked this plan, but she had no valid objection to urge against it; indeed, when she looked up at the snowy mountains before us, and the vast chasms which yawned on each side, she must have owned to herself that she was unfitted to travel through such a region.

Next morning we sent the two men for the deer skins, and a further supply of venison; but when they came back they brought the skin of the panther as well. They had found the animal close to the body of the deer, by the scent of which he must have been attracted; but he must have died of his wounds before he had begun to eat the flesh.

We spent the rest of the day in making pemmican, and in doing up our packages in a more compact form. The larger part of our stores we left for the party in camp—only taking powder and shot, a small quantity of coffee, and a few simple cooking utensils, so that we might travel as lightly as possible. We had little doubt about being able to obtain a sufficient supply of game; and Sergeant Custis, who was a bit of a botanist, said that he hoped to find roots which would serve as vegetables.

Early in the morning, having said good-bye to our friends, we set out. The valley was soon crossed, and we then proceeded along the base of the mountains to the southward, in the hope of finding some opening in the cliffs, or a practicable path up which we might climb. Our rifles were slung at our backs, and we each carried a long pole, on the strength of which we could thoroughly depend.

At length we came to an opening. It did not look very promising, but it was the only one which offered us any means of penetrating into the mountains, and ultimately, as we hoped, of getting over them. For some distance we kept along a ledge which gradually ascended, with a steep precipice on one side and an almost perpendicular cliff on the other. Gradually, however, the ledge became broader, and we forced our way among the trees which grew on it.

Manley proved himself an excellent mountaineer; and as I had for many years been accustomed to climbing, I ventured along paths which many would have hesitated to follow.

I cannot describe the whole of that day's journey—the dreadful precipices along which we scrambled, the profound gorges into which it almost made the head giddy to look down, the rugged heights we climbed, the thick forests of pine through which we penetrated. Still, we did not complain, hoping that success would crown our efforts.

At length we reached a place near trees and water, which would supply us with the only necessaries we required; so we built a rough shelter with boughs, for the wind was piercingly cold. We were able to defy it, however, with the help of a large fire, which we kept blazing in front of our hut.

We were making better progress than I had expected, but still range upon range of snowy mountains lay between us and the western slopes which it was our object to descend. Perhaps our trials and fatigues had only just commenced. However, none of us were inclined to give in; and as we got some sound sleep by turns, we were prepared after breakfast to set out again.

Up, up we went, the cold increasing rapidly. Every hollow below us was filled with snow; still, we could find no cañon or gorge of any description through which to make our way. Over the range we must go—or, at all events, some lofty shoulder of it. We had now to encounter a new description of danger, too. The snow lay on the only practicable path, and it might conceal deep crevasses; or an avalanche might descend from above, and overwhelm us; or the mass, slipping from beneath our feet, might carry us down into one of the fathomless chasms below. Notwithstanding this, we went on and on, until it would have been as dangerous to turn back as to go forward.

I was taking the lead, when, on turning an angle of a rock, I saw spread out before me a valley so broad that my eye could scarcely reach the opposite side. Flowing through it were numerous streams; a large lake, many miles in extent, occupied its centre; while hills and forests dotted it in all directions. But, as I looked below, I saw a precipice of fearful depth, which it would be impossible to descend.

I had observed, as I came by, a steep slope leading upwards on our right, thickly covered with snow. I thought, however, that it might afford us a way by which, having ascended it, we could reach a part of the mountain from whence to descend with less risk than from that on which we now stood, so I shouted to my companions to take it. Sergeant Custis heard me, and we mounted together, expecting that Manley would follow.

I looked round to speak to him, when what was my horror to see him gliding rapidly down, surrounded by a vast mass of crumbling snow, towards the edge of the precipice which I have just mentioned! My heart sank within me. To render him any assistance was impossible; in a few minutes he would be dashed to pieces. I should have been horrified to see any human being in so fearful a predicament; but he was my friend, the first I had ever possessed. I thought, also, of the grief the news of his death would cause my sweet sister Clarice. How should I be able to tell her of it? These thoughts flashed across my mind.

Close to the very edge of the precipice, a mass of jagged rock stood out. Already Manley had disappeared, and the snow went thundering down. For a moment I felt inclined to let myself glide down also. Just then I heard a voice; it was Manley shouting out to us not to attempt to come to his rescue. When about to be hurled over the edge of the precipice, he had clutched the jutting rock, and held on for his life, while the snow went rushing by under his feet. He waited until it had ceased to fall, and then, clutching the sides of the rock, by a powerful effort slowly worked himself upward, until at last he gained the firmer part of the snow. Still, he several times cried out to us not to attempt to join him, lest our united weight might again set the mass in motion.

A PROVIDENTIAL ESCAPE.

"I have indeed been mercifully preserved," he said, when, having rejoined us, we congratulated him on his escape. "I pray that we may succeed in getting down into the valley, although at present I see no path open to us."

After climbing some way, we found a gap in the rocks, which, although full of snow, afforded a sufficiently firm footing to enable us to get on without much difficulty. From thence, although the descent was not without danger, we succeeded in reaching a broad ledge free from snow. Here some bushes grew, of sufficient size to afford us fuel; and sheltered in the hollow of a rock, we passed the night in tolerable comfort.

On the return of day we recommenced our search for a practicable way down the mountain; and happily finding it, we at length reached one of the lower heights of the wide valley I have mentioned. I call it a valley, but it was rather a large basin, surrounded, as far as the eye could reach, by lofty mountains.

"Now we are here, how are we ever to get out again?" I asked Manley.

"Where those rivers find an outlet, so probably shall we," he answered. "There can be no doubt that two or perhaps more cañons lead into this basin,—some to the north and east, so far as I can judge, and others to the west,—and by them, without having any ascent to climb, we shall probably be able to make our way in the direction we wish to go."

Having the day before us, we proceeded westward across the basin. We soon found, however, that it was anything but level. Large hills, many of which might have been dignified by the title of mountains, rose up in various directions. One object, however, engaged our attention in the far distance: it was a beautiful sheet of water, blue as the sky overhead—like a jewel in a setting of green.

Nowhere could we see any Indian wigwams, but here and there we observed what appeared like smoke rising above the trees.

"I very much doubt if what we see is smoke," observed Manley; "it looks more like vapour; and, from the appearance of this region, I suspect that some volcanic action is going forward. However, we shall discover that as we proceed."

Although we at first fancied we had reached the valley's level, we found we had still a considerable descent to make, and that we could not hope to arrive that day on the banks of the lake. We therefore encamped on the borders of a forest overlooking a stream which evidently ran into the lake, and which would serve to guide us the next day. The stream was bordered by rocks of a curious form, but we had not time to examine them before it was dark, as we had to make our usual preparations for passing the night.

Sergeant Custis at once took the can to get some water from a spring which, not far off issued from a rock and fell into a basin. From the regular appearance of this basin, we might have supposed it to have been artificial. The sergeant dipped in his can, but he drew it back in a great hurry, exclaiming, "Why, it's at boiling heat!"

We hurried up, and found that such was indeed the case. As the water had a peculiar taste, we agreed not to use it for cooking, lest it might have some pernicious effect; so the sergeant had a considerable distance to go before he could get down to fill his can.

It had now become quite dark, and we were seated round our camp-fire, when we heard low rumbling sounds; and great was our astonishment to see, by the light of the moon, which just then appeared from behind a cloud, a lofty jet of silvery water, rising, as it seemed to us, a hundred feet or more into the air! Although our curiosity was excited, we had no wish to venture towards the spot in the darkness, as we hoped to be able to examine it the next morning.

Scarcely had we placed our heads on the fir-tops which formed our couches, when hideous sounds burst forth from the forest. The screeching of night-birds, the barking of coyotas, the dismal howling of the llovas, the cry of the panther, and other sounds, well-nigh drove sleep from our eyelids, and showed us that this region must be thickly inhabited by the wild beasts of the forest, although no human beings might be found within it. Having plenty of powder and shot, however, we were not alarmed on that account. Still, it was necessary to keep up a blazing fire, and to watch vigilantly, lest any unwelcome visitor might intrude upon us, and still more unpleasantly disturb our night's rest.

CHAPTER X.

ADVANCE TOWARDS A BEAUTIFUL LAKE—HOT SULPHUR SPRINGS MET WITH—BOILING MUD POTS—CURIOUS BASINS FORMED BY WATER IN THE SIDE OF THE MOUNTAIN—LOVELY FRETWORK ROUND THEIR RIMS—NEARLY SINK INTO A BOILING MUD POOL—THE LAKE REACHED—ABUNDANCE OF GAME AND FISH—BUILD A RAFT—BEGIN VOYAGE ACROSS LAKE—VIOLENT STORM—IN GREAT DANGER—DRIVEN ACROSS THE LAKE—WE CLING TO TREES WHILE THE RAFT IS DASHED TO PIECES—MAKE OUR WAY THROUGH THE FOREST—I MISS MY COMPANIONS, AND LOSE MY GUN AND KNAPSACK OVER A PRECIPICE—REACH FOOT OF MOUNTAIN—I CAMP WITHOUT SUPPER OR FIRE.

N spite of the fearful noises produced by the savage inhabitants of that region, and certain low, ominous rumbling sounds which came up from the direction of the waterspout, when we did go to sleep we slept soundly enough. At length the sergeant, who had taken the last watch, roused up Manley and me, and we started to our feet—my first impulse being to look out for the jet of water which I supposed I had seen on the previous evening, but which was now nowhere visible.

"If we have got into an enchanted land, as the Indians suppose it is, the fairies or spirits have not thought fit, during the night, to trouble us," said Manley, laughing. "Our business now is to try and make our way across this valley—so, forward!"

After breakfast, we strapped on our packs and recommenced our march, our object being to reach the shore of the lake as soon as possible. If there were any native inhabitants in this region, they would probably be found there; and we would either get them to put us across the lake in their canoes, or else we would skirt along it until we could again take a westerly course.

We soon found that we had got into a region subject to violent volcanic action, and were compelled to turn aside to avoid a wide space full of ponds, the intervals between which were covered with a crust of brimstone. I attempted to reach one of the ponds, but had not gone far when the point of my pole went through the crust, and up bubbled a quantity of black slime. On touching it, and finding it scalding hot, I shouted to my companions, who were behind, not to venture on the treacherous ground. A horror seized me, and every instant I feared that I should break through the surface. Should that take place, what a dreadful fate would be mine! I hastened back, stepping cautiously, as if moving over ice too thin to bear my weight; and very thankful I was when I once more got on hard ground.

A WONDERFUL REGION.

Still further on, as we proceeded down the valley, we saw vapour rising from numerous fissures in the hill-sides. Around these vents quantities of sulphur had been deposited. But the most curious objects were basins of all sizes, nearly circular, of which there were great numbers—formed, apparently, by the lime contained in the hot springs. Some of these springs were exhausted; others, as they gushed forth from the mountain-side, were hot enough to boil potatoes. Beautiful as was the appearance of the basins, we were too eager to push forward, to examine them minutely. One was from twelve to twenty feet in diameter, and had a beautifully scalloped border. So perfect was the shading of the scallops, that it looked like a most delicate work of art rather than the production of nature. From the centre spouted up water to the height of seven or eight feet. Farther on was another boiling spring, of far greater dimensions,—a horrible-looking caldron, the water dark and muddy, and in ceaseless agitation.

"Here is a pot suitable for the witches' caldron in Macbeth," cried out Manley.

He was rather ahead of me, and on overtaking him I found him standing by the side of a circular basin whose diameter we calculated to be fully twenty feet. The contents consisted of what greatly resembled hasty pudding, or, as Manley said, "a huge caldron of thick mash." The whole surface was bubbling up every instant, and giving off a thud like the noise produced by the escape of the gas below.

Curious as these sights were, we were still more astonished by the appearance of the side of the mountain, the base of which we passed. All up the slope was seen, as it were, one above another, a succession of large basins or reservoirs. The margins were beautifully scalloped and adorned with natural bead-work of exquisite beauty. In spite of our hurry, we could not resist the temptation of making our way up to them. One of the largest springs we calculated to be fully thirty feet in diameter; and so perfectly transparent was the water, that, as we looked down into it, we could see to the very bottom. Its sides were ornamented with coral-like forms of various shades, from pure white to bright cream-yellow, while the blue sky overhead gave an azure tint to the whole surface which no art could imitate. Over several parts of the rim the water was flowing down into other basins. I climbed up and looked over into one of the pools, which was literally hanging on to the one above it like a bird's nest to a wall; while beautiful stalactites were suspended below it, caused by the water which flowed over the sides. The temperature of the water when it came out of the side of the mountain was high, but in the course of its passage from pool to pool it became gradually cooler.

"I cannot resist the temptation of taking a bath in one of these beautiful basins," exclaimed Manley.

Selecting one, I followed his example; and the sergeant was soon sitting in a third, with his head just above the water. Nothing could be more refreshing and invigorating, and when we got out we all agreed that we felt better able to continue our journey.

CURIOUS HOT-WATER "BATHS."

We found that the clear atmosphere of this region greatly deceived us as to distances, and it was not until the following day that we arrived on the shores of the lake. It was nearly evening when, after having penetrated a thick pine forest, we at length stood on its borders. Few lake-scenes could be more beautiful than that now spread out before us. The southern shore was indented with long narrow inlets, while pine-crowned promontories stretched from the base of the hills on every side. Islands of emerald hue dotted its surface, and round the margin was a sparkling belt of yellow sand. The surface, unruffled by a breath of air, was of a bright green near the shore, shading into a dark ultramarine towards the centre. Whether there were fish, we had yet to discover; but we had no fear of starving, for the whole surface of the lake swarmed with birds—swans, gulls, pelicans, geese, herons, brants, sand-hill cranes, and many varieties of ducks. An island in view was literally white with the numbers of pelicans which had taken up their abode upon it. We had also seen many other birds during the day—eagles, hawks, ravens, ospreys, prairie-chickens, grouse, mocking-birds, and woodpeckers; while we caught sight of several kinds of deer, elk, and mountain sheep. Even buffalo had made their way into the valley. Grizzly bears and panthers, too, we had good reason to fear, abounded, and were likely to be troublesome to us.

We formed our camp on the shore of the lake, where there was fuel in abundance; and taking my gun, in the course of a quarter of an hour I shot geese and ducks enough to give us an ample supper, and breakfast next morning. Manley, who was a good angler, had, in the meantime, been fitting up a rod and line—for he had brought hooks with him; and I found, when I got back, that he and the sergeant had caught a dozen salmon-trout, between a pound and a pound and a half in weight. Their colour was of a light gray above, and a pale yellow below. The dorsal and caudal fins were dark gray, and the others mostly of a brilliant orange or bright yellow.

We calculated that the lake was fully twenty miles long, and not less than fifteen broad in its widest part; and had we not been in a hurry to proceed on our journey, we agreed that we would have willingly spent some days in this enchanting spot. However, this was not to be thought of.

We kept up a blazing fire all night, and consequently escaped a visit from either grizzly or panther. The question now was, "How were we to cross the lake?" We were none of us much accustomed to boating, although Sergeant Custis knew more about it than either Manley or I. At first we talked of building a canoe, but the sergeant suggested that, as it would take some time to construct one, it would be better to form a raft, which could be put together in a few hours.

"If the water remains as quiet as it does at present, we can soon paddle to the other side; and we can also rig a mast and yard, on which we can make a very good sail with our blankets," he observed.

At daylight we commenced to build a raft. There were logs enough of every size and length in the forest, and we selected those only which we could drag with ease to the water's edge. Lithe vines, of which there were plenty hanging to the trees, served instead of ropes, and with these we bound our logs together. As the pine-wood was heavy, we formed a platform on the top of the logs with smaller poles and lighter branches, interwoven, and bound together as tightly as we considered necessary for the easy voyage we proposed to undertake.

THE LAKE AMONG THE MOUNTAINS.

We were, it must be understood, at the north-east end of the lake. On the west side was the promontory which we hoped to reach, and beyond it a deep gulf ran up the shore, the farther end of which we could not distinguish.

Some hours were passed in constructing the raft. We had then to cut out the paddles, a long oar to steer by, and also the mast and yard. These, although they were very roughly formed, occupied us some time longer, so that it was late in the day before we were ready to commence our voyage. We calculated, however, that we should have no difficulty in getting across before sundown; and as the evening promised to be calm and beautiful, we expected to have a pleasant passage. The wind, too, was favourable, blowing from the eastward, and would help us along,—although, as it was very light, we must be prepared to use our paddles.

The raft had been built in the water, so that all we had to do was to step on board, set our sail, and shove off. "Away we go!" cried Manley, giving a shove with the steering oar, and we glided off from the shore.

Sergeant Custis quickly set the sail, which, as we got a little way on, blew out with the breeze. He and I then plied the paddles. We appeared to be making fair progress, too, although the raft moved but slowly. But the wind soon dying away, we had our paddles alone to depend on. Manley tried to scull with the oar, but he was not an adept at the art, and it did not help us much. When we watched the shore we had left, we saw that we had made some progress; but when we looked ahead towards the side of the lake we wished to reach, it appeared no nearer than when we stood on the shore we had left, while the mountains rose towering up above our heads as gigantic as ever. The sun had already disappeared beyond the pine-clad heights to the west, leaving the valley in rapidly increasing shade.

"I doubt, Ralph, whether we shall set foot on shore much before midnight, unless we move at a faster rate than we are now doing," said Manley.

I agreed with him; observing, however, that a moonlight voyage on that calm lake would be pleasant in the extreme, and a thing to be remembered.

Not expecting to be so long on the raft, and intending to have supper on our arrival, we grew very hungry. Fortunately we had plenty of cooked provisions, and fresh water alongside, so that we had no difficulty in satisfying our appetites.

While the sergeant was engaged in again doing up the pack, a sudden squall struck our sail, carrying away the mast, and had I not sprung up and seized hold of it, the blanket would have been lost. Fortunately I caught it before it was wet. This squall was quickly followed by another, and we could see the white-topped waves curling up around us on all sides. Our raft was but ill calculated to buffet with a tempest such as seemed but too likely to come on. The wind being as yet favourable, however, the sergeant attempted to repair the mast and re-hoist the sail; but scarcely had he done so when it was again carried away.

"We must trust to our paddles, and the wind will still drive us along," said Manley.

We could hear the wind roaring among the trees on the shore, and every instant it increased, raising up big waves which threatened to sweep over us. The raft was tossed and tumbled about, and sometimes it was with difficulty we could hold on sufficiently to prevent ourselves from being shaken off into the seething water. We had, fortunately, at the suggestion of the sergeant, secured our rifles and knapsacks to the top of the platform in the centre of the raft, where they were tolerably secure.

We were now driving on much faster than we had hitherto been doing, but the darkness prevented us from knowing whether it was in the right direction, for we could see only the foaming waters dancing up around us. All we could do, therefore, was to hold on, and try with the steering oar to keep the raft before the wind, hoping that we might be driven into some sheltered bay, where we could land in safety.

I thought of what Clarice would have said, if she had been with us—"Trust in God"—and I felt sure that she would not have been more alarmed than we were. We saw our danger,—we could not be blind to that,—but none of us gave way to cowardly fears. Manley sat with perfect calmness, steering, while Sergeant Custis and I paddled away, endeavouring to keep the raft before the following seas. At last I caught sight of some dark object rising out of the water, but instead of being ahead, it was on the right hand, or, as we judged, to the northward of us. It was evidently land, but whether the end of the island we had seen in that part of the lake, or the mainland, we could not determine. In vain we attempted to paddle up to it; the gale drove us on, and showed us that we were perfectly unable to go in any direction excepting that towards which the wind should impel us.

Again we lost sight of the land, and this led us to think that we must have passed an island. The waves hissed and foamed, and danced up around us as much as ever; still our raft held together, and we were enabled to cling on to it. Even if we were only moving at the rate of two miles an hour, it could not take us more than seven or eight hours to get across from one side of the lake to the other, and we calculated that we must already have been that time on the raft. What if we had got into a channel of some river, which might rush rapidly along, pouring over some terrific cataract? Should we by any means be able to reach the shore, so as to escape being carried along with the raft? Had it been daylight, the danger would not have been so great, for we might have seen in what direction to direct our efforts. As it was, we might, should we paddle to one side or the other, be placing ourselves in greater danger than by allowing the raft to drive on before the gale. Our ears were assailed by the continued roar of the waves dashing on the shore, of the wind rushing through the trees, and of the foaming waters as they clashed against each other; we sometimes, indeed, could scarcely hear each other's voices. There being now no sail, we were able to keep our eyes turning in every direction.

"When we do reach the shore, we must take care not to lose our things," said Manley, with due thought. "Let each man seize his rifle and knapsack; for if we fail to get into a harbour, we shall probably be dashed against a rocky shore, or among overhanging trees, where our raft will, no doubt, quickly be knocked to pieces."

Dangerous as was our present position, we had to confess that the operation of landing might prove even more perilous; still we were eager to go through it, trusting that, notwithstanding the danger, we should escape.

At length Sergeant Custis cried out, "Land ahead! We shall be close to it in a few minutes. It seems to me to be covered with wood, with mountains rising beyond. Yes! no doubt about it! We must each try to get hold of a stout branch or trunk of a tree, and cling on to it until daylight returns and we can see our way."

The sergeant was right, although the time we took to reach the shore was longer than he expected it would be. In daylight we could have made our escape without difficulty, but now we ran the most fearful risk of being crushed against the raft, as it surged up and down; or against the trees, which hung, some with their branches in the water, others but slightly raised above it, while the seething waters whirled and leapt around their trunks with a force which must soon reduce our raft to fragments.

"Now is our time!" cried the sergeant. "Quick, quick, gentlemen!" and seizing a branch, he swung himself up into a tree, hauling his rifle and knapsack after him. The next instant he extended his hand to me, by which assistance I was enabled to follow his example. On looking round, I lost sight of Manley. Had he been washed off, or struck by a bough?

"Manley, Manley!" I shouted; "where are you?"

"All right!" he answered, greatly to my relief.

The sound came from a distance, for even after I had left the raft it had been driven some way on before he could manage to grasp a bough. We had at all events succeeded in our object of crossing the lake, although we had not landed exactly in the manner we desired, nor could we tell our whereabouts. We might be at the very southern end of the lake, should the wind have shifted to the northward, or we might be at its western extremity. Wherever we were, there we must remain until daylight; for were we to attempt moving, in the pitchy darkness which hung around, we might fall off into the water, or lose ourselves in the forest.

"It cannot be far off daylight, sergeant," I observed.

"I think not," he answered; "but I would advise you to take care not to drop off to sleep. If you do, you may chance to fall into the water. It will be as well to caution the lieutenant, or he, being alone, may forget himself."

Considering the noise of the waves dashing under our feet, the waving of the trees, and the howling of the wind amid them, I did not think the caution very necessary; but, notwithstanding, I shouted out to Manley.

"No fear of that," he answered. "It would require a more comfortable spot for a bivouac, to induce me to take a snooze."

That night appeared to me the longest I can remember. Days appeared to have passed since we had left the eastern shore, with the bright sunlight and the calm blue water. Still, day must return. What a comfort that thought often is! The roar of the waters gradually decreased, the wind having fallen, and thus, in spite of the sergeant's warning, my head was beginning to nod, when he cried out,—

"Here is daylight at last; I see a tint of red over the snowy tops of the mountains. We shall have the sun himself sending his warm rays down upon us before long."

His voice aroused me in a moment. Manley answered his hail; and as the light increased we saw that we were at the farther end of what might be the main body of the lake, or a branch running off it. It was in reality the great western arm of the lake, and we had been carried many miles on our journey, in the exact direction we wished to go.

We had soon light enough to enable us to crawl off the branches to which we had clung, and make our way down to the ground—if ground it could be called, for, in reality, in every direction it was covered thickly with logs in all stages of decay, some only lately fallen, others which could be knocked to pieces with a kick, while the feet sank at almost every step in decomposed vegetable matter. Still this was the region through which, somehow or other, we must make our way.

After an hour's toil we reached a small open space, where the ground was sufficiently hard to enable us to light a fire and dry our drenched clothes and blankets. We had also to look to the priming of our rifles, as they were likely to have got damp, and might fail us at a pinch. Being unwilling to encamp in the forest altogether, though we all greatly required rest, we resolved to push on until we could reach more open ground where water was to be obtained.

To save my companions labour, as I was a more practised backwoodsman than either of them, I offered to go ahead and try to find the shortest way out of the forest. How far it might be, I could not tell; but I had hopes that the forest in which we were might prove to be only a belt of trees on the shore of the lake.

It did not occur to me as possible that my companions could miss my trail. I shouted now and then, however, but did not hear their voices in reply, the forest being so dense that sounds could not penetrate far through it. I went on and on, feeling sure that I was directing my course to the westward. The ground rose more and more, too, in some places rather abruptly, but still covered with a dense growth of trees, and soon I found that I was mounting a hill. The path was more easy than at first, however, there being but few fallen trunks, so I made much better progress.

"I must get out of this," at last I said to myself; and so I continued moving on, occasionally notching a tree with my axe, if I thought my trail was not sufficiently distinct. "Of course they will follow," I thought more than once. I did not, indeed, entertain a doubt about it.

I had reached the top of the hill, but the trees were too high to enable me to see any of the country around. I could judge by the direction of the sun's rays, however,—which had now drawn round, and were striking in my face,—that I was steering westward, as before. I occasionally stopped and looked back, expecting that my friends would overtake me; and although I did not see them, I felt so sure that they must be close behind that I continued my course.

On and on I went, when again I found myself descending, and thus knew that I had crossed over a hill of some height; still the trees prevented me from getting a view of the country beyond. At last I came to some marshy ground of a similar character to that which I had met on the other side of the lake, with sulphur springs in the centre. I had therefore to make a detour to avoid it, but as the tall trees which grew on the surrounding hills would not allow me to get a view of the country, I could not determine in what direction to steer my course. I did not perceive an important circumstance. Owing to the spongy nature of the ground, into which my feet sank at every step, the marks were soon obliterated, while I still supposed that my trail was sufficiently defined to enable Manley and the sergeant to follow me.

I now mounted another hill, of a far more rugged character than the former ones which I had passed over.

"Surely," I thought, "on the other side of this there must be open ground, where I shall be able to see my way ahead, and select a spot for our camp." The hill, however, proved to be even more rugged than I had expected. Still I did not like to go back, though the farther I went the wilder and more jagged it became.

At last I found myself scrambling along the summit of a precipice, until I saw before me a foaming cascade falling down the precipitous rocks, with lofty pinnacles rising above it. This formed a cataract which, after a short course, ran into a lakelet at the foot of the cliffs; while beyond was the open ground I had been hoping to find.

THE CASCADE.

Although a good cragsman, my climb had been a rough one, and I now sat down to rest on the top of the cliff before I commenced mounting higher, which it was necessary to do in order to get above the falls, and from thence make my way down the further side of the mountain on to the open ground. To rest my shoulders, I had taken off my pack, and placed it with my rifle by my side. I failed to notice, as I did so, the slippery nature of the rock, which was covered with a velvet-like surface of moss, produced by the constant spray from the waterfall. Feeling thirsty, I thought that I could reach a small jet of water which, flowing amid the rocks, fell into the main cascade. I therefore got up to make my way to it, and while doing so must have touched my rifle with my foot. I obtained the water, although not without difficulty, and more danger than it was wise to run for the purpose. But, on returning, what was my dismay to see neither rifle nor knapsack! They had both, it was very evident, slipped over the cliff, and fallen into the lakelet. Had I been alone, my loss would have been indeed a serious one, but as I hoped that my friends would soon overtake me, I did not allow it to depress my spirits.

I approached as near to the edge of the cliff as I dared, thinking it possible that my rifle and knapsack might have fallen on some ledge, or perhaps been stopped in their downward progress by bushes; but, as far as I could judge, the precipice was perpendicular, and they must have fallen into the lakelet. I saw at once, therefore, that there was very little chance of my being able to recover them: still that point could not be decided until I got down to the level of the lake, when I might ascertain its depth. If not very deep, I might perhaps be able to dive to the bottom; but though naturally eager to make the attempt, I felt it would be safest to do nothing in the matter until I was joined by my friends.

I waited a short time for their coming up, but as they did not appear, I thought it desirable to retrace my steps, in case they should have missed their way, or lost sight of my trail. I accordingly went back, shouting out to them; but it was not until I came to the spongy ground I had passed, that I saw the probability of their having lost my trail and gone in some other direction. In vain I searched for signs of them. Should I return to where I parted from them, a long time might elapse before we might meet; and my anxiety to try and recover my rifle and knapsack forbade me doing this.

The day was advancing, and darkness would come on before I could get to the shore of the lake, so I again turned and made my way over the mountain till I got above the fall; from thence, with infinite labour and at no little risk, I ultimately succeeded in reaching the level ground. I had now to go round the base of the mountain in order to reach the lake; but the distance was considerable, and I could scarcely hope to reach it before nightfall. I felt, therefore, that it would be prudent to look out for a spot for camping. A grove of trees of no great extent was before me, and their trunks would afford shelter; but what about a fire? My flint and steel I had incautiously left in my knapsack, but I had a small burning-glass which one of our visitors at the farm had given me. I had seldom made use of it, but I had put it in my pocket, with the few valuables I possessed, on the night we left Roaring Water. As the sun had disappeared, that, however, would be of no use for the present; so I arrived at the unsatisfactory conclusion that I must pass the night without food or fire.

CHAPTER XI.

ALONE IN THE FOREST—AWAKENED BY THE CRY OF A PANTHER—THE BRUTE DISCOVERS ME—I TAKE REFUGE IN A TREE—THE PANTHER DISAPPEARS—A VISIT TO THE LAKE—VAIN EFFORTS TO RECOVER MY RIFLE AND KNAPSACK—I CONTINUE TOWARDS THE WEST, HOPING TO MEET MY FRIENDS—MORE SULPHUR SPRINGS—NEARLY OVERWHELMED BY A MUD VOLCANO—A POISONOUS VALLEY—CAUGHT IN A SNOW-STORM—BUILD A HUT—MY FARE, THISTLE ROOTS—MAKE TRAPS AND A FISHING-LINE—SALLY FORTH—CATCH THREE BEAVERS—FIND ANOTHER LAKE—SALMON-TROUT CAUGHT—CONTINUE DOWN A RIVER, AND COME UPON A NUMBER OF MAGNIFICENT GEYSERS—AM ABOUT TO TAKE UP MY ABODE IN A GROTTO, WHEN A HOT SPRING RISES FROM IT—I SHIFT MY QUARTERS—PREPARE FOR ANOTHER SOLITARY NIGHT—I HEAR A SHOT, AND A WOUNDED DEER BOUNDS NEAR ME.

Y exertions had made me hungry. Recollecting the amount of animal life which abounded in that region, however, I had no great fear of starving altogether, for if I could not shoot I might trap animals. I hoped, however, to be able to rejoin my companions the following day, when my wants would be supplied, so that I was not much out of spirits. Should I fail to trap game at any time, or should I fail to meet my companions even for some days, there were, I remembered, roots of various sorts which might serve for food, though it was now too late to obtain them. Indeed, barely light enough remained to enable me to cut down some branches with which to form a slight hut. I managed to collect a few to answer my purpose, the thick trunk of a tree serving as a back. In spite of this shelter, it was very cold; but of course I made up my mind to endure it as best I could, and, in spite of hunger and anxiety, it was not long before I fell asleep.

What time had elapsed I know not, when I was awakened by a shrill cry, almost like that of a human being. I shouted out for help before I was quite awake, thinking it must come from my companions, who were in danger; but when completely aroused, I knew too well that it was the shriek of the panther which so often makes night hideous in the forests of the south. What the brute was about, I could not tell; but as I knew he must be close to me, I again shouted out, hoping to frighten him away. At the same time clutching hold of a low branch of the tree which hung directly overhead, I swung myself into it.

Presently I saw the panther come out of a thicket close at hand, and smell round the hut. He had only just discovered me, and seemed to have a strong inclination to make his supper off my body. I did not feel altogether comfortable, even where I was, as I had a belief that panthers can climb, like most of the cat tribe, and that he might take it into his head to mount the tree. I had no weapon besides my knife, but with that I managed to cut off a pretty thick branch, with which I hoped to be able to defend myself.

As I found it very cold where I sat, my first object was to try and drive the brute away. I therefore kept pelting him with pieces of withered branches, which I broke off; but to no purpose. Still snarling occasionally, he kept smelling round and round the tree, frequently casting a look up at me with his glittering eyes. Now and then he went to a little distance, and seemed about to spring into the tree. At last he got into a position which enabled me to take good aim at him, and I threw a heavy piece of a branch, which hit him directly on the nose. At the same time I sprung round the tree, so as to be concealed from his view. He gave an upward glance; but not seeing me, he appeared to be seized with sudden fright, and, greatly to my satisfaction, went muttering away into the depths of the wood.

Trusting that the panther would not come back, I descended the tree, and once more sought the shelter from which he had driven me. The interruption to the night's repose had been somewhat unpleasant, but that did not prevent me sleeping on until daylight; after which I proceeded in the direction where I expected to find the lakelet into which my rifle and knapsack had dropped.

I was considering what I should do for food, when I observed a green plant of a bright hue, with a small head, which I recognized as a thistle, the roots of which I had seen the Indians use for food. Pulling it up, I found it not unlike a radish in taste and consistency. Searching about, I soon found several more: and although not likely to be very nutritious, the roots served to stop the gnawings of hunger, and enabled me to make my way with a more elastic step.

My thoughts were occupied as to the probability of finding Manley and the sergeant. I hoped that, once clear of the forest, they might encamp and make a large fire, the smoke of which would serve to guide me to them. Should they, on the contrary, continue searching about, we might miss each other.

The shore of the lakelet was at last reached, but my first glance at it convinced me that there was every probability of its being of great depth. The cliffs over which my rifle and knapsack had fallen went sheer down into it; while farther on the torrent brought a large supply of water, which found an exit on the opposite side. The water was clear as crystal, and from the shore upon which I stood I could see the bottom. When I put in my stick, however, I could not fathom it—and this at the shallowest part. Still, my existence might depend upon recovering my rifle, so, throwing off my clothes, I plunged in and swam to the foot of the cliff. I felt sure that I was under the very spot from whence the things had fallen, but when I looked down, notwithstanding the clearness of the water, I could not see them, nor the bottom, and this at once convinced me of the immense depth. I had therefore to abandon all hope of recovering my rifle and knapsack, and swim back, not altogether without some fear of being seized with cramp from the coldness of the water.

Quickly dressing, I ran on to warm myself, keeping as before to the west, as I felt sure that Manley and the sergeant would proceed in the same direction. Coming to a high mound or hill, I climbed to the top, whence I could obtain a pretty extensive view; but nowhere could I see any objects moving which could be my friends. A herd of elk were browsing in the far distance, and a number of mountain sheep were scampering about on the side of the neighbouring height. My eyes were attracted, however, by some wreaths of vapour far down the valley, in the direction which it was probable Manley and the sergeant had taken. The vapour might arise from a fire they had kindled; but when I looked again, I saw not only one, but several wreaths, or rather jets, which made me fear that my first conjecture was wrong. However, as these jets appeared in the right direction, I determined to go towards them.

I descended from the height, and continued my course, feeling unusually weak and weary, when, some way along the valley, I observed several circular holes, full of mud of different colours bubbling up, while vapour issued from various fissures in the sides of the hills, and a sulphureous odour pervaded the air.

Becoming more and more fatigued, at last I threw myself on the ground, and ate a few of the thistle roots which I had fortunately brought with me. I remember noticing a large hole not far off, but it appeared to be empty. I felt very drowsy, and dropped off to sleep before long, my head resting on my knees; when suddenly I became conscious of a loud rumbling sound, while the earth beneath me seemed to shake and upheave.

A DANGEROUS LOCALITY.

Springing to my feet, what was my horror to see, close to me, a mass of dark water and mud rising up in the shape of a column! Higher and higher it rose, surrounded by volumes of vapour; while from its summit was scattered far and wide thick lumps of mud. Becoming aware that I had been sleeping close to an active mud geyser, I sprang away from the dangerous neighbourhood, narrowly escaping being overwhelmed with the hot and horrible mixture. The spout, or column, I should think, must have risen to a height of nearly fifty feet; while every few seconds loud reports were heard, and with each report a dense volume of steam shot forth—the ground meanwhile shaking violently.

I stood watching it till, gradually decreasing, the centre part of the column sank down into the orifice from which it had been expelled; and within a short time all was again quiet. The mass of mud which covered the ground, and coated even the boughs of the neighbouring trees, alone showed the violent outbreak that had just taken place.

As I advanced the valley began to narrow. Miasmatic vapours, escaping from holes and crevices on either side, filled the air, making it difficult to breathe with freedom, so I hastened on, anxious to get out of so horrible a region. To escape from it I climbed a hill, along the side of which I made my way as fast as the uneven nature of the ground and fallen logs and rocks would allow.

I again got into a more open country, where I became conscious of a considerable change in the atmosphere. Hitherto the air had been tolerably warm, though bracing; it now grew sensibly cooler. Thick clouds were gathering in the sky. The wind, before a gentle breeze, now rose rapidly, and blew with violence. It soon became icy cold, and flakes of snow began to fall. Without a fire, I felt I should well nigh perish. At all events, before I could make a fire I must search for some cavern in which to light it; or, failing to find a cavern, I must build a hut. As the appearance of the ground did not indicate that caverns were likely to exist on the side of the hill, I set to work without delay to collect materials for building a hut; and having cut down a number of pine branches, I stuck them in the ground, weaving their tops together with vines, and piling as many rough pieces of bark against the side as I could find.

In vain I watched for a gleam of sunshine, which would enable me, by means of my burning-glass, to kindle a fire. The clouds gathered thicker and thicker; and no hope remained of my being able to obtain the desired spark. Taking advantage, therefore, of the remaining light, I searched about and pulled up all the thistle roots I could find. With this hermit-like fare, the only provender I was likely to obtain while the storm lasted, I retired into my hut.

Scarcely had I got under shelter when down came the snow, and the whole face of the country was speedily covered with a sheet of white. How long the storm might last, I could not tell; it might blow over in one or two hours, or days might elapse before it ceased. It was too early in the year, however, to fear the setting in of winter weather, even in that elevated region, or my condition would indeed have been deplorable.

I had kept an opening through which I could look over the valley, in case my friends might pass that way. But night came on, and they did not appear; so, closing up my window, I coiled myself away to sleep, as the size of my hut would not allow me to stretch myself at full length.

I had little fear that a panther would break into my bower; but I was not so confident that, should a grizzly scent me out, he might not poke in his nose. Still I could trust to Him who had hitherto protected me. I had my knife and my long stick, and, at all events, I might give Master Bruin an unpleasant scratch on the snout, should he come within my reach.

Notwithstanding my uncomfortable position, I was soon asleep, and did not awake until daybreak. Had I possessed any means of cooking my roots, I might have made a tolerably satisfactory breakfast. Indeed, although they assisted to sustain life, they were far from wholesome raw; still, to quell the cravings of hunger, I ate them.

The storm continued to blow with as much violence as on the previous evening, and, lightly clad as I was, I felt that it would be rash to continue my course till it was over. I sincerely hoped that Manley and the sergeant had found suitable shelter. However, as they could light a fire, and had abundance of food, I was pleased to think that they were better off than I was.

To employ the time, I tried to manufacture some traps of such materials as I possessed. I then bethought me that I had a fish-hook in my pocket; but when I came to search for a line I could find none. I had, however, a silk neckerchief; and having unravelled this, I twisted it with the greatest care into a strong thread. It occupied a good deal of time, but I succeeded in three or four hours in forming a line of sufficient length for my purpose. I had plenty of loose shot, too, which I split for weights. I then carefully rolled up the line round a piece of wood, ready for use as soon as I should reach a lake or stream likely to contain trout.

The storm lasted upwards of two days. Although my journey was thus delayed, I felt sure my friends would likewise have been prevented from travelling, and thus I was none the less likely to meet them. At length the wind subsided, the clouds dispersed, and the sun shone forth with dazzling brightness on the snow, which began quickly to disappear beneath his rays.

Carrying the traps I had manufactured, and my fishing-line, I now sallied out. I had exhausted all my roots, but as the snow cleared away I obtained a further supply, though, hungry as I was, I still had very little inclination to eat them raw.

I had not gone far when I came to some boiling springs; one of which, although the water was of intense heat, was little larger than a good-sized caldron. I threw in my roots, and sat down beside it to warm my feet, which were benumbed with the melting snow. While my frugal dinner was cooking, I looked about in search of my friends; but again I was disappointed. When I thought that the roots were sufficiently boiled, I raked them out with my stick. They were certainly more palatable, and I hoped they would prove more nutritious.

Every hour was now of importance, for Manley and the sergeant would, I calculated, be pushing on, under the belief that I was before them. I had quenched my thirst with snow, for in that volcanic region I could find no water fit to drink; it was either intensely hot, or so impregnated with sulphur and other minerals that I was afraid to swallow it. I saw that it would soon be necessary again to camp, so, that I might not have to pass the night without a fire, I endeavoured to obtain a light by means of my burning-glass, before the sun should descend too low. The wood around was so wet that I feared, after all, I should not succeed; but having made my way to a forest on one side of the valley, I discovered some moss growing under the branches of a tree which had sheltered it from the wet. Here also was abundance of dead wood. With as much as I could carry I hurried back into the open, and sitting down, brought the glass to bear on the now fast sinking rays of the sun. I watched the effect with almost trembling eagerness, till, greatly to my joy, from the small bright spot caused by the concentrated rays a thin thread of smoke began to ascend and spread over the moss. This I blew gently, placing over it a few twigs at a time, until I soon had a brisk fire burning.

The place where I had lighted my fire was not one at which I wished to camp, but once having a fire, I could carry a burning brand and ignite another in some more convenient situation. I was not long in selecting a spot close under a rock, where I soon had a fire blazing up. I thus had warmth, although I was still destitute of wholesome food; and, indeed, I found myself weaker than I had ever before been.

I was not of a disposition to give way to despondency, but sombre thoughts would intrude. I began to fear that I might not be able to rejoin my friends; that they, unable to find me, would suppose that I had met with some accident, and would at length make their way to the fort by themselves. Had I possessed my rifle and knapsack, I should have had no fear on the subject, but the only means I had of obtaining food were precarious; and I could not cast off the thought that, should I continue to grow weaker, I might ultimately perish.

I was soon shown, however, that I ought not to have desponded. I was more successful with my beaver traps than I had expected; and, imperfectly formed as they were, I caught no less than three animals in them, which afforded me ample food, and greatly restored my strength.

Pushing on over a wooded height, I saw below me a beautiful lake two or three miles long, and almost as many broad. I hastened down to its shore, and having caught some grasshoppers on the way, I quickly had my line in the water. Having chosen a favourable spot, scarcely a moment had passed before I hauled out a salmon-trout a pound or more in weight. In half an hour I had caught a dozen—as many as I could carry. I therefore camped and cooked some of the fish, which afforded me a more satisfactory supper than I had eaten for many days.

Seeing a stream running out of the lake, I next morning followed its course. I cannot describe the beautiful waterfalls which I passed on my way, or the scenery, which was altogether very fine. I hastened along, believing that the stream, from the direction it took, would lead to an outlet among the mountains.

I had thus gone on for some miles, when the cañon down which I was travelling widened, and suddenly I saw before me a scene far more wonderful than any I had yet witnessed. In every direction over the broad valley, on both sides of the stream, rose a number of jets of sparkling water far surpassing in beauty the artificial fountains in the most celebrated gardens of royal mansions.

I hurried on, to get a more perfect sight of this wonderful region. Suddenly, from a high mound some thirty feet or more above the level of the plain, I saw a jet burst forth, which rose to the height of one hundred and twenty or one hundred and thirty feet—a perfect geyser, the first real one I had yet seen. It continued playing for fifteen minutes or more, the mass of water falling back into the basin, and then running over the edges and down the sides of the mound. Others were playing all the time. As I hastened on, from another cone a column shot upwards to a far greater height—considerably above two hundred feet, I should say—and lasted very much longer than the first. The intervening spaces between these geysers were covered with grass; and in many places trees rich with foliage grew luxuriantly, showing that there was no danger in venturing among them.

Another beautiful geyser, which burst up when I was not more than a hundred yards from it, had the exact appearance of a fan. On examining it, I found that it possessed a double orifice, which discharged five radiating jets to the height of sixty feet; the drops of spray as they fell perfectly representing the feathers of a fan. Nothing could be more beautiful than the effect. The eruption lasted nearly thirty minutes, the water preserving its elegant form during the whole time. About forty feet from it dense masses of vapour ascended from a hole, emitting at the same time loud sharp reports. As I looked along the river I saw small craters of every conceivable form; some were quiescent, while others poured out cascades forming small rivulets which ran into the river.

So beautiful and curious was the scene, that for a time I forgot my perilous position.

A FAN-LIKE GEYSER.

I had no fear of starving, as long as I had my fishing-line and traps, and was able to light a fire; but I knew that I had a wild and rugged road to pursue, and probably snow-capped mountains to climb, before I could reach the western plains. It was important, therefore, to obtain substantial fare, that I might regain my full strength for the undertaking. I had not, of course, given up all hope of falling in with my friends, but still I was forced to contemplate the possibility of missing them. I wondered that we had not yet met, as I certainly thought they would have taken the same direction that I had followed.

I must, at all events, spend another night in the valley; and I was looking about for some place which would afford me shelter, when I saw, a short distance off, what appeared to be a beautiful grotto—consisting of fantastic arches, pillars, and turrets, with hollows beneath them, in one of which I might find a comfortable sleeping-place. I determined to explore it, and, after collecting wood for a fire, to take my rod and line and endeavour to catch some fish in the river. I should, at all events, have no difficulty in cooking them in one of the numerous boiling caldrons in the neighbourhood. Directly behind the grotto was a forest of firs, from which I could collect an ample supply of wood for my fire, as also small branches to form my couch, should the ground prove damp.

I was making my way towards the grotto, when I heard a rumbling sound, and directly afterwards two jets of water spouted from its midst—one of them rising rapidly to the height of nearly a hundred feet, when, spreading out, down it came, the scalding water falling in a dense shower on every side, while wreaths of steam were ejected from the various holes which had been within their influence, the which would speedily have parboiled me, had I not at once run off to a safe distance. I then turned back to look at the beautiful phenomenon. Although the jet was not so lofty as many of the other geysers, its form was not less beautiful, assuming, as it curled over, the appearance of a gigantic ostrich feather.

I had received a lesson not to trust to appearances, and was now very unwilling to take up my lodgings in any one of the curious grottoes which lay scattered about in the valley. They might be perfectly quiet, and afford me comfortable shelter; or, proving treacherous, a stream of hot water might burst forth from some unperceived vent and blow me fifty feet into the air, or scald me to death. I accordingly resolved to build myself a bower in which, although it would not afford me so much shelter as a cavern, I might pass the night in safety.

It was necessary, however, before the sun should disappear, to light my fire; and having fixed upon a spot, I repaired to the woods nearest at hand to collect the fuel. I had not gone far when I saw rising before me a curious white mound, twenty-five or thirty feet in height, and about a hundred at the base. From the summit rose a small puff of steam, like that escaping from the lid of a kettle; but I saw, from the appearance of the trees around it, that it could not for many years have sent forth any dangerous stream of hot water. Not far off was a small basin with an elegantly scalloped rim; it was full of hot water, which scarcely bubbled over. "This will make me a capital fish-kettle," I said to myself, "so I will build my hut near here. I do not think there can be any risk."

THE TREACHEROUS GROTTO.

Having selected a clear spot, I set to work and piled up the wood for my fire. This was the first operation. I could build my hut in the dusk, or even by the light of the fire, should it be necessary, after I had caught my fish. Then taking a handful of moss into the open, with a few dry sticks, I quickly lighted it with my burning-glass, and carrying it back, soon had my fire in a blaze. I next made it up carefully, that it might burn until I came back, and hurried down to the river. I was doubtful whether trout were to be found in water into which hot streams were constantly pouring; however, as most of them became cold before they reached the main current, I thought it possible that I might be successful. In the expectation of catching fish, I had omitted to set my traps; or rather, occupied by the wonderful scenes around me, I had forgotten all about the matter. In vain I threw in my line, baited with an active grasshopper; not a fish would bite. I went higher up the river, where fewer hot springs ran into it, but I was equally unsuccessful.

The shadows beginning to spread over the valley, warned me that I must return to my camping ground and content myself with a few thistle roots for supper; and I had just wound up my line, when my ear caught the sound of what appeared to be a shot fired at some distance up the valley. It was so faint, however, that I thought it might possibly be a sound emitted by some geyser or fire-hole. Just then a deer came bounding along, a short distance off. On seeing me it swerved slightly out of its course, and as it did so I perceived a stream of blood flowing from its side.

"That was a shot, then!" I exclaimed; "and my friends must have fired it."

My first impulse was to run in the direction from whence the shot came, but on looking at the deer I perceived that it was slackening its pace; and after a few more bounds, down it sank to the ground, not one hundred yards from me.

CHAPTER XII.

I KILL THE DEER—MORE WONDERS—MEET MANLEY AND SERGEANT CUSTIS AT LAST—A PLEASANT EVENING—PARCHED WITH THIRST AMIDST SPARKLING STREAMS—OUR HAZARDOUS JOURNEY OVER THE MOUNTAINS—SAFE ARRIVAL AT FORT HARWOOD—WELCOMED BY THE COMMANDANT—AN EXPEDITION ORGANIZED TO DRIVE THE INDIANS FROM THE COUNTRY—MANLEY COMMANDS IT—I ACCOMPANY HIM—MEET BARNEY AND KLITZ, STILL BOUND FOR CALIFORNIA—BARNEY GIVES AN ACCOUNT OF THEIR ESCAPE—THEIR JOURNEY STOPPED—THEY RETURN WITH US—WE MEET PIOMINGO AND HIS SQUAW—TELLS US THAT HE HAS BURIED THE WAR-HATCHET—HEAR AN ALARMING ACCOUNT OF BARTLE—ASCEND THE MOUNTAIN TO WHERE WE LEFT UNCLE JEFF—FIND HIM AND CLARICE WELL—HE HAS OBTAINED A LARGE SUPPLY OF PELTRIES—OUR RETURN TO WINNEMAK'S CAMP—MAYSOTTA ACCOMPANIES CLARICE TO ROARING WATER.

LTHOUGH I had not forgotten the friends I hoped soon to see, my instinct as a hunter made me anxious to secure the deer, as it might possibly get up again, and be lost to us by springing into the river. Acting on this impulse, therefore, I ran up to the wounded animal. The poor brute was endeavouring to rise on its knees, so, hamstringing it with my knife, I effectually prevented it from escaping. I had, however, to approach it cautiously, for a blow from its antlers, even in its present state, might prove dangerous. I managed at length to reach its throat, when its struggles speedily ceased.

I now looked round for my friends, in the expectation of seeing them at any moment, for I was sure they would follow the deer; but they did not come. Still I could not have been mistaken. The animal had been shot by a rifle bullet; it was a rifle I had heard fired. Had Indian hunters shot the deer, they would certainly have followed more closely at its heels; and besides, they were not likely to have rifles.

After having secured the deer, I hastened in the direction from whence it had come, expecting that every moment would solve the mystery. Yet, eager as I was, my eyes could not avoid remarking the wonderful objects around me. On one side was a basin, its projecting rim carved with marvellously intricate tracery, while the waters within were tinted with all the colours of the rainbow. On the other side appeared a mass greatly resembling an ancient castle. It rose more than forty feet above the plain, while in its midst was a turret of still greater dimensions. A succession of steps, formed by the substances in the water which had become hardened, led up to it, ornamented with bead and shell work; while large masses, shaped like cauliflowers or spongy-formed corals, projected from the walls. Out of this curious structure, as I was passing it, shot a column of water sixty feet or more in height, vast volumes of steam escaping at the same time.

A JOYFUL MEETING.

It seems curious that I should have been able to remark these objects at a time when my mind was occupied by a matter of so much importance. Still I could not avoid seeing the objects; and although I did not at the time think much about them, they stamped their impression on my mind as I went along. Suddenly two figures appeared, which put every other object out of my sight. My eyes were fixed upon them; I had no doubt that they were Manley and Sergeant Custis. I shouted. They saw and heard me, and came hurrying forward, and we were soon warmly shaking hands.

"Ralph, my dear fellow! we feared that you were lost," exclaimed Manley, "and we have been hunting for you day after day. How haggard you look! How did you manage to lose us? and what has become of your rifle?"

These and numerous other questions I had briefly to answer. How they had missed me, they could not very clearly tell. Instead, however, of coming westward, they had for some time hunted about in the very neighbourhood where they had at first lost sight of me. At length they reached one of my camps, and from thence they had followed me up, although they had been compelled, as I had, to take shelter during the storm.

Of course, they were as much delighted as I was with the extraordinary region in which we found ourselves; and I could now enjoy an examination of its wonders far more than I did at first.

We were very anxious to push on, in order to carry relief to our friends, and to punish the Arrapahas for their audacious raid on our territory, but that evening we could proceed no farther. We therefore cut up the deer, and carried as much of its flesh as we required to camp, where we built a hut, and employed the evening in preparing the venison for the remainder of our journey—for we had snowy heights to surmount, where we might be unable to meet with game. An abundant meal and a night's rest completely set me up; and my friends insisting on alternately keeping watch, I was allowed to sleep on without interruption.

I must pass rapidly over the next few days of our journey. We worked our way along the rugged gorges through which the river forced a passage, and we had torrents to cross, precipitous mountains to climb, amid glaciers and masses of snow, where by a false step we should have been hurled to destruction. But we were mercifully preserved.

Game in these wild regions is scarce, and we were frequently hard pressed for food. In one of the valleys, at the beginning of this part of our journey, nowhere was a drop of drinkable water to be found. For hours we walked on, with bright fountains bubbling up on every side; but they were scalding hot, or so impregnated with minerals that we dared not touch them. Our fate promised to be like that of Tantalus: with water on every side, we were dying of thirst. At length I espied, high up on the mountain slope, a little green oasis, scarcely larger than a small dinner-plate. I scrambled up to it, and, putting down my hand, found a fountain of cool bright water issuing forth. I shouted to my companions, who quickly joined me. Never was nectar drank with more delight; and, revived and strengthened, we again pushed on.

Sometimes we slept in caverns, sometimes in huts built of clods and boughs. Frequently we had to camp on the bare ground, without shelter, our feet as close to the fire as we could venture to place them without running the risk of their being scorched.

At last, to our great joy, we saw the western plains stretching out before us. I call them the plains, although hills of all heights rose in their midst. Far away to the south-west was the great Salt Lake; while in front of us were the mountainous regions bordering the Pacific,—California and its newly-discovered gold-mines. Now descending steep slopes, now traversing gorges, now climbing down precipices, now following the course of a rapid stream, we ultimately reached level ground, and at last arrived at Fort Harwood.

"Why, Broadstreet, my dear fellow!" exclaimed the commandant, who, with a number of other officers, came out on seeing us approach, "we had given you up as lost! Some emigrants who escaped from a train which was attacked reported that every white man on the other side of the pass, for miles to the southward, had been murdered. They had heard, also, that an officer and his men had been cut off, so we naturally concluded you were the unhappy individual."

"Such would have been our fate, if we had attempted to get through the pass; but, guided by my friend here, we crossed the mountain, for the purpose of asking you to send a force of sufficient strength to drive back the Indians, with their rascally white allies," answered the lieutenant.

"The very thing I purposed doing, if I could obtain a trustworthy guide," said the commandant.

"You could not have a more trustworthy one than my friend, Ralph Middlemore," answered Manley. "He knows the mountains better than any white man we are likely to find; and as for Indians, I would not put confidence in one of them."

Of course, I at once expressed my willingness to undertake the duty proposed; and the expedition was speedily arranged. Our troops may not have had a very military appearance, but the men knew how to handle their rifles, and had had experience in border warfare. We numbered fifty in all, besides the drivers of the baggage horses and mules conveying our provisions and ammunition. All not absolutely necessary encumbrances were dispensed with, our camp equipage consisting of a few iron pots, tin cups, and plates. Lieutenant Broadstreet had command of the party, and he was directed to select a fit site for a new fort in the neighbourhood of Roaring Water, to assist in holding the Arrapahas in check for the future.

Not an hour was lost; and by sunrise, two days after our arrival, we commenced our march. I had advised Manley to let me go ahead with a few of the most experienced men, to act as scouts, that we might ascertain whether the enemy still held the pass; but two days had gone by without any signs of the Indians. The remains of their fires, however, showed that they had been there not long before. At the end of the second day, just as we were about to encamp, I caught sight of two figures coming over the brow of a slight elevation. I rubbed my eyes; was it fancy, or did I really see Klitz and Barney before me, precisely as I had seen them on a previous occasion, when attempting to make their escape from the farm? No doubt about it. There was Barney wheeling a barrow, and Klitz, with a couple of muskets on his shoulder, marching behind him. Had I been inclined to superstition, I might have supposed that I beheld a couple of ghosts, or rather beings of another world; but I was convinced, unless I was the victim of some optical delusion, that the two worthies were there in flesh and blood.

I did what every one should do when there exists any doubt about a matter,—I hastened forward to solve the mystery. No sooner did they see me than Klitz dropped his muskets, and Barney, letting go the handles of his wheel-barrow, stood gazing at me with open eyes and outstretched hands.

"Arrah, now, it's the young masther himself!" exclaimed Barney; whilst the German uttered an exclamation which I did not comprehend. "Sure, now, we were afther thinking your honour was kilt intirely," continued Barney. "Might I be so bold as to ax where your honour comes from now?"

"Let me inquire where you come from, and how you escaped from the burning house," I said. "Although I am glad to see you, I would rather you had rejoined your regiment."

"Sure, Mister Ralph dear, we were returned as dead, and it would have been sore against our consciences to take sarvice under the circumstances. But your honour was axin' how we escaped. Sure, when I was hunting for the Redskin spy, didn't I find out the root-house. And so, afther matters came to the worst, we got in there, with food enough to last until those thieves who wanted our scalps had taken themselves off. As to cutting our way through the enemy, I knew well enough that would not suit me; for I could not run, and Klitz would have been a mark a mile off. So, when you rushed out, he and I dropped down through the trap and stowed ourselves away. The Indians, marcifully, niver came to look for us. In truth, while they were hunting about down came the building on their heads, and we could hear their shrieks and cries as they tried to scramble out from among the flames. If it had not been for a small vent-hole far away up in a corner, we should have been suffocated, maybe. All day long we could hear them screeching and hallooing outside the house; but before night the thieves of the world took themselves off, we suppose, for all was silent.

"At the end of a couple of days we thought we might safely venture to take a few mouthfuls of fresh air, and begin to work our way out from among the ruins. It was no easy job, but we got free at last. Neither Redskin nor white man was to be seen; and of all the buildings, the hut and the mill only were standing. The villains had carried off all our blankets and most of the cooking-pots, but enough was left for our wants, seeing that we had nothing to put in them. However, Klitz was not the boy to starve. He soon caught some fish, and I got hold of a sheep which came up to the door; and if there had only been a dhrop of the cratur', we should have lived like princes. One thing there was which the Indians had not carried off, and that was a wheel-barrow. When Klitz saw it, 'We will go to California!' says he. Says I, 'I'm the boy for it!' So, as we had our muskets and a few rounds of ammunition, afther drying the mutton and making some other necessary preparations we set off. The Indians had left the country, and no one stopped us, so surely your honour won't be so hard as to stop us now!"

"That must depend on what Lieutenant Broadstreet has to say in the matter," I observed. "I am under his orders, and will conduct you to him."

Klitz elongated his visage on hearing this, but Barney took the matter with his usual good-humour.

In consideration of the dangers the men had gone through, and their conduct in the defence of the farm, the lieutenant treated them kindly. He could not allow them to continue on their way to California, of course, which they most certainly would never have reached, but he inflicted no greater punishment than ordering them to mount the baggage-mules and return with us.

We did not entirely rely on Barney's report that the Indians had left the neighbourhood, though it perhaps made us less cautious than we would otherwise have been. As I was well mounted, I frequently went on a considerable distance ahead, eager to fall in with some one from whom I might gain intelligence of Uncle Jeff, Clarice, or our friends. I did not suppose that Uncle Jeff would remain in the mountains where we had left him, but that he would certainly have come down to meet us; or perhaps, should Bartle and Gideon have escaped, he might have rejoined them and returned to Roaring Water.

We had got through the pass, and were about to march to the southward, in the hope of overtaking the enemy, should they be still lingering in that part of the country, when I saw smoke ascending from the level ground close to the foot of the mountain, and some way ahead. On watching it, I was satisfied that it rose from an encampment of white or red men. As there was little doubt that information could be obtained from the inhabitants, whoever they were, the sergeant and I, with two well-mounted troopers, rode forward, keeping on the alert to guard against coming suddenly on an enemy.

As we got nearer, I saw, by means of a telescope which I had obtained at the fort, an Indian camp of a more permanent character than I had yet fallen in with in that neighbourhood. This was a proof that the inhabitants were friendly.

PIOMINGO AND HIS SQUAW.

In a short time several persons appeared; and on seeing us one of them came forward, habited in the costume of a chief, a quiver at his back and a bow in his hand. A squaw followed him. He stopped and gazed at me. Then, as I rode on, he advanced, and, putting out his hand, exclaimed,—

"You know me!—Piomingo. This my squaw. You save my life and her life, and I am ever your friend."

I told him that I was very glad to see him, and that he could give me information I very much desired. In the course of conversation he informed me that he had talked with Winnemak, and had buried, as he said, the war-hatchet; and he had therefore come and settled in that district. He had also preserved my horse with the greatest care; and, he added, he was ready to restore him to me in good condition. With regard to Uncle Jeff, he could tell me nothing. As my uncle, however, had not rejoined Winnemak, I concluded that the latter was still in the mountains, well contented with his new locality, and engaged in shooting and trapping.

"Can you give me any information about my other friends?" I asked.

One white man, he said, had gone to Winnemak's camp; and from his description I had little doubt that the person he spoke of was either Bartle or Gideon. I was very sure, however, that either of them would without delay have rejoined Uncle Jeff. What Piomingo told me about the other caused me much anxiety. He had been captured by the Arrapahas, he said, who had carried him about with them; probably, according to their cruel custom, with the intention of ultimately putting him to death in some barbarous manner.

As Piomingo volunteered to lead a party of us in search of the marauders, who still had, according to his report, a white man with them, I at once accepted his offer, and would gladly have set off immediately; but it was important first to carry assistance to Uncle Jeff and Clarice, who could not fail—so Manley thought—to require it. He and I, with twenty troopers and some of our baggage animals, accordingly turned to the northward, leaving Sergeant Custis and the remainder of our force to watch the pass, in order to prevent the return of the Arrapahas.

We pushed on as fast as our horses would go, the lieutenant being fully as eager as I was, but it took us two days to reach the foot of the mountains. Manley declared that he could not have found the spot had it not been for my assistance. We here formed camp, while he and I, with six of our strongest baggage animals, and men to look after them, took our way up the mountain.

I need scarcely describe the route. Sometimes we made tolerable progress, at other times we had to use the greatest caution to escape falling over the precipices which we had now on one side, now on the other. But the most arduous part of the undertaking was forcing our way through the primeval forests, over trunks of trees, and through pools of water, into which the horses sank up to their knees. The poor brutes had an uncomfortable time of it. The men, armed with thick sticks, went behind whacking them unmercifully, while others dragged away at their heads. I was thankful to have the task of acting as guide, although it was not an easy one—having every now and then to climb over fallen logs or leap across pools. I was, however, saved the pain of witnessing the sufferings of the animals; and I determined, if possible, to find an easier path down again.

FOREST-TRAVELLING.

At length a height which separated us from the first valley was passed; and looking down, to our infinite satisfaction we caught sight of a well-constructed hut, with a wreath of smoke ascending from its chimney. All, then, was likely to be well. Manley and I, leaving our men to follow with the animals, hurried down, and in less than a quarter of an hour we were shaking hands with Uncle Jeff and Clarice. I need scarcely describe how Manley and my fair young sister met, but it was very evident that they were not sorry to see each other. Rachel came out, beaming with smiles; and in a short time Pat Sperry appeared, followed by another person whom I was truly glad to see—Gideon Tuttle. The latter had joined Uncle Jeff some days before. Although desperately wounded, he had managed to make his escape, and had lain in hiding in the mountains for several days, till he had recovered sufficient strength to travel. The report he gave us of Bartle, however, was truly alarming. There could be no doubt that he had been captured by the Indians, and, Gideon feared, must have been put to death by them; but when I told him what Piomingo said, he became more hopeful as to the fate of his old friend.

"If he is alive, we will find him out, wherever he may be!" he exclaimed. "Even if the varmints have him in the middle of their camp, we will manage to set him free."

Uncle Jeff, as I expected, had not been idle. Ever since the day we had left him, he had been hunting and trapping, and had collected a large store of skins of all sorts of animals, with dried meat enough to supply an army. The baggage animals we had brought could carry but a small amount of the stores collected by Uncle Jeff. It was arranged, therefore, that a larger number should be sent up as soon as possible, to bring away the remainder. Who was to take charge of them? was the question. Uncle Jeff, Gideon, and I, were naturally anxious to return to Roaring Water, that we might get up huts and re-establish ourselves before the commencement of winter.

While we were in this dilemma, Winnemak and several of his braves appeared. On hearing of our difficulty, he said, "Commit them to my care. I will protect them with my life—although I believe no one will venture up here to carry them off. I have, as yet, had few opportunities of showing my gratitude. I failed to assist you, when I wished to do so, against the Arrapahas; but in this matter I can, at all events, render you a service."

"Where will Maysotta remain while you are up in the mountains?" asked Uncle Jeff, after he had accepted Winnemak's offer.

"Oh, let her come with us!" exclaimed Clarice. "I wish to show her that I am grateful for the service which she rendered me; and she may perhaps be pleased with the life we lead. She has several times expressed a wish to know how white people spend their time."

The chief, who seldom interfered with the movements of his daughter, replied that she was at liberty to do as she wished, and that we should find her in the camp at the foot of the mountains.

Lieutenant Broadstreet had to rejoin his men as soon as possible, and no time, therefore, was lost in commencing our journey down the mountain. Winnemak and several of his people were left in charge of Uncle Jeff's hut and stores.

We had not a few difficulties to encounter on our return, but Clarice, by whose side Manley rode whenever the path would permit, endured them bravely; and we ultimately, without accident, reached the foot of the mountains, where we found Maysotta encamped with the remainder of her people. She was well pleased with the proposal Clarice made to her; and her baggage being put into little bulk, she mounted her horse and accompanied us forthwith.

CHAPTER XIII.

ON OUR WAY WE VISIT PIOMINGO—HE TELLS US OF BARTLE'S CAPTIVITY, AND OFFERS TO ASSIST US IN HIS RECOVERY—GIDEON, PIOMINGO, AND I SET OUT, FOLLOWED BY A STRONG PARTY UNDER SERGEANT CUSTIS—WE DISCOVER THE TRAIL, AND FOLLOW IT UP—HORRIBLE CRUELTIES PRACTISED BY INDIANS ON THEIR PRISONERS—THE TRAIL LEADS ALONG THE MOUNTAIN—WE SEE A FIGURE ABOVE US—IT IS BARTLE—IS HE ALIVE?—JUST IN TIME—GIDEON AND I STAY BY HIM—I AFTERWARDS SET OFF TO OBTAIN HELP—PIOMINGO HAS SENT A LITTER—WE ARRIVE SAFE AT ROARING WATER—HARD AT WORK REBUILDING THE HOUSE—A FORT ESTABLISHED—BARNEY AND KLITZ JOIN US—A VISIT FROM MANLEY—A PROPOSAL, AND CONFESSION—UNCLE JEFF APPROVES OF THE ENGAGEMENT OF MANLEY AND CLARICE—WINNEMAK AND PIOMINGO BECOME CHRISTIANS, AND INSTRUCT THEIR PEOPLE—THE HOUSE REBUILT—SETTLERS GATHER ROUND US, AND UNCLE JEFF'S FARM BECOMES THE MOST FLOURISHING IN THE NEIGHBOURHOOD.

S we approached Piomingo's camp, or rather village, we saw him hurrying out to meet us.

"I have gained information for you," he said, "about one of your white friends who has long been held in captivity by the Arrapahas. The party who have him remained for some time in the neighbourhood of Roaring Water, if they are not there still. If you hasten on, you may overtake them; but it would be dangerous to approach with a large band, in case they should immediately kill their prisoner—they have already killed several who had fallen into their power—rather than run the risk of allowing him to escape. My advice is, that a small number of experienced men should pursue them, followed by a larger party at a short distance; and I willingly offer to serve as a scout to accompany the first party. If we can find the Arrapahas in camp, we may be able to liberate the prisoner; or if we can form an ambush and pounce suddenly out on them, we may manage to cut the thongs with which he is bound, mount him on one of our horses, and carry him off."

As we were convinced that the white man of whom Piomingo spoke was Bartle Won, Uncle Jeff and Gideon accepted the brave's offer without hesitation. It was finally settled that Piomingo, Gideon, and I should push on until we came upon the trail of the Arrapahas, and that a party of twenty men, under Sergeant Custis, should follow us. We were then cautiously to approach the camp of the enemy, and endeavour by some means or other to liberate Bartle. We had confidence in the success of our plan, for Piomingo had ever been celebrated for his cunning and audacity, which he had in times past exercised in less reputable ways than that in which he now proposed to employ them. Some of Winnemak and Piomingo's people, who were now on good terms, scoured the country as scouts; and from the reports they brought us we were satisfied that the chief body of the enemy had completely deserted the neighbourhood. Still, the party of whom Piomingo had heard might have remained behind, and we therefore at once commenced our search for their trail.

But I must be brief in my account. For two days we searched in every direction, scarcely resting, till at length we discovered a trail which Piomingo was confident was that of our foes; and, moreover, he said they had a white man with them. They had, however, he thought, passed some days before. Piomingo sent back one of his men to urge Sergeant Custis to come on rapidly; and we pushed forward as fast as we could travel, hoping soon to overtake the Arrapahas.

After following the trail, we found that it took the way along the mountains. This was rather an advantage in some respects, as, being accustomed to mountain travelling, we might move on faster than those of whom we were in pursuit. As, however, we were made of flesh and blood, we were obliged to encamp at night, although the dawn of day found us again in pursuit.

INDIANS AND THEIR BARBARITIES.

Piomingo thrilled my heart with horror by an account which he gave of the cruelties practised by the savages on some of their captives, and I had great fear that our friend Bartle might have been subjected to the same horrible tortures. Piomingo told us that he himself had been present at some of the scenes he described. It showed me how debased men, formed in the image of God, can become, when they have departed from Him, and how cruel by nature is the human heart, which can devise and take satisfaction in the infliction of such barbarities. The white men who were thus treated had done nothing to injure the Indians, except in attempting to defend their lives and property when attacked. The captives having been brought out into an open space, bound hand and foot, the Indians threw off their usual garments, and dressed themselves in the most fantastic manner. One of their victims was first led forward and stretched on the ground, to which he was bound by cords and pegs, so that he could move none of his limbs. The savages then commenced a wild dance round him, jeering and mocking him, while they described the various tortures for which he must be prepared. One of the unfortunate victim's companions was, in the meantime, held, with his hands bound behind him, and made a witness to his sufferings. The savages, as they danced round and round him, stooped down and pricked him with daggers and knives, taking good care not to wound him mortally. Next one of the wretches, seizing his knife, cut his scalp from off his head; while others brought some burning embers of wood and placed them on his breast.

But I see no advantage in further mentioning the diabolical cruelties practised by these savages of which Piomingo told us. Far removed from the benign influences of Christianity, these red men only acted according to the impulses of their barbarous nature. The thought came upon me with great force, Is it not the duty of white men who are Christians to send the blessed light of the gospel, by every means in their power, to their benighted fellow-creatures? They have souls as we have, and they are as capable of receiving the truths of the gospel as we are. Bold, energetic men, imbued with the love of souls, are required, who, ready to sacrifice all the enjoyments of civilization, will cast themselves fearlessly among the native tribes, and by patience and perseverance endeavour to induce them to listen to the message of reconciliation, and to imitate the example of Him who died for them.

I spoke earnestly and faithfully to Piomingo of this, and I was thankful to find that he listened not only willingly but eagerly to what I said.

"Yes," he exclaimed at length, "I see that you are right. Although some white men have set us a bad example, it is no reason that all should do so. The truths about which you speak are independent of man. There must be bad white men as well as bad red men; but I am sure that those who follow the example of Him of whom you tell me, the Son of the Great Spirit, must be good men. I will try to follow him, and when we get back, you must tell me more about him."

I gladly promised to do so, and was thankful for this opportunity of speaking to Piomingo.

Before starting next morning we sent a message to the sergeant, begging him to keep as close to the foot of the mountain as possible, as we were sure the enemy could not have gone far up; indeed, their trail led along the lower part of the side. They had taken this direction, probably, in order that they might obtain a view over the plain, and thus the more easily escape from those who by this time, they must have known through their scouts, were in pursuit of them, although they could not be aware that our small party was so close at their heels. In a few hours more, we believed, we should probably be up with them; and we hoped that while they were in camp we might find some means or other of releasing Bartle.

Though generally keeping our eyes ahead, or down on the plain, I happened on one occasion to look up the mountain. On the height above me was the figure of a human being. I pointed it out to my companions.

"There is no doubt about it," exclaimed Gideon; "what you see is a cross, with a man, well-nigh stripped, bound to it."

The spot was one difficult of access, but it had been reached shortly before, and, Piomingo declared, by Indians, whose trail he discovered on the hard rock, where Gideon and I could not perceive the slightest marks.

"That is Bartle," cried Gideon as we were climbing on. "Little chance, however, of the poor fellow being alive. The cruel varmints! I'll punish them one of these days for what they have done."

The expressions which his indignation drew forth were very natural, but they were not in accordance with the precepts I had been endeavouring to inculcate on Piomingo.

As we hastened on Gideon cried, "I think I saw his head move; if so, he must be alive. We are coming! cheer up, cheer up, Bartle; we are coming to your help!" he shouted.

The faint sound of a human voice was heard in return.

"He is alive," I exclaimed; "he is alive!" and I waved my cap as we rushed to our friend's assistance.

Another minute, and we were by Bartle's side. We could perceive no wound, but his eyes were starting from his head, and his tongue protruded. Not a moment was lost in cutting the lashings with which he was bound to the stump of a small tree, with another rough piece of wood fastened across it. A few minutes later, and I believe he would have breathed his last. We had fortunately brought with us a bottle of water and some spirits, some of which we poured down his throat, and in a wonderfully short time he revived, and was able to tell us what had happened to him. He had rendered one of his captors a service on some occasion, and this man had sufficient influence with the others to preserve his life. When, however, they found themselves closely pursued by our troops, they were about to kill him; but, at the instigation of the brave who had hitherto saved him from being put to death, they resolved to bind him to the tree and leave him. In all likelihood, his friend had proposed this with the intention of afterwards returning and setting him free.

As Bartle would certainly be unable to move for some time, Gideon and I remained by him, while Piomingo returned to inform Sergeant Custis of our success, and also to warn him that the enemy were not far ahead. The sergeant, we afterwards heard, pushed rapidly on, and in a short time came up with the party, and, by the careful way in which he approached, took them completely by surprise. They attempted to defend themselves, but the greater number were cut to pieces—a few only escaping to the southward.

TO THE RESCUE!

Gideon and I, I have said, had been left on the mountain-side to look after Bartle. The first thing Gideon did was to take off his own coat and wrap it round our friend, whose limbs were swollen by the pressure of the cords, while he was chilled by long exposure to the cold air; indeed, most men would have sunk under the sufferings he had endured. How were we to get him down the mountain? was the next question. He could not walk, and Gideon and I together were unable to carry him. The spot was exposed to a hot sun by day, and to cold winds by night, and there were no materials at hand to build a hut; indeed, but little wood even to form a fire. At last I proposed setting off to try and obtain help,—though, should the troops or the Indians who accompanied us have gone south, it might be a long time before I could fall in with any one. There was nothing else to be done, however, as far as we could see, although I greatly feared that before I could return Bartle would have succumbed.

"Quick, Ralph," said Gideon, as I rose to set off. "Do not forget some food; and bring a litter, or something of that kind, to carry Bartle on."

I had scarcely got a hundred feet down the mountain when I saw two Indians in the distance, coming towards me, each carrying something on his back, and a long pole in his hand. I waved to them, and they made signals in reply. They were soon close to me, and on coming up they said that they had been sent by Piomingo, and that they carried materials for forming a litter. He had thought of the very thing we required. It was rapidly put together; and placing Bartle on it, we each of us took the end of a pole, and began cautiously to descend the mountain. Of necessity our progress was very slow. Sometimes we had to place the litter on the ground, not for the sake of resting ourselves, but that we might lower it with more caution. Thus proceeding, we at last reached the plain, where, as the day had closed, we encamped.

Next morning, Bartle, although better, was still unable to walk; we therefore carried him the whole way to Roaring Water. We found Uncle Jeff standing in the midst of the ruins of the old house,—in no desponding mood, however,—and he welcomed Bartle as he would have done a beloved brother.

"You will soon come round, Bartle," he said, as he took his hand; "and we will get a house up as big and as strong as the old one."

"Ay! that we will," answered Bartle; "and if the Redskins pay us another visit, we will take good care that they shall never get inside it."

The hut had been thoroughly cleaned out, and Clarice, Maysotta, and Rachel had taken possession of it, while the rest of the party occupied the mill.

Lieutenant Broadstreet had, in the meantime, fixed on a good site for a fort on the summit of a precipice by the river-side, and his men were busily engaged in cutting and fixing up the palisades which were to surround it. So much was he occupied in the duty he had to perform, that he could rarely come over to Roaring Water; while I was so fully employed that I had no time to visit him.

We were greatly in want of labourers to supply the places of the poor fellows who had been killed when the Indians attacked the house, and at last Uncle Jeff told me to go over to the fort and ascertain if any men were likely to obtain their discharge, and if so, to offer them good wages.

"You can tell the lieutenant that we shall be glad to see him over here whenever he can come," said Uncle Jeff, "although we have not the best accommodation in the world to offer him."

I had little doubt that Manley would not be influenced by the latter consideration; so, mounting my horse, I rode off to the fort, and gave him Uncle Jeff's message.

"I can afford you two hands, at all events," he answered, and I saw a twinkle in his eyes. "They know the place, and perhaps you may get more work out of them than I can; only take care they do not run away."

I guessed to whom he alluded; nor was I mistaken. We went out together, and he summoned Klitz and Barney, who were slowly working away with pick, axe, and spade.

"Men," he said, "you have claimed your discharge; you shall have it, if you are willing to go and take service at Roaring Water."

"Sure, with the greatest pleasure in me life; there's not a finer gintleman on this side of the Atlantic than Mr. Crockett," said Barney.

Klitz simply gave a grunt of acquiescence.

The whole matter was arranged; and they were to return with me the next day. I was also glad to obtain two more men, who, though they belonged to that class of individuals known as "Uncle Sam's bad bargains," and might be lazy rascals when labouring for a Government for which they did not care a cent, turned out to be very ready to serve a master who treated them kindly and paid them well. As we travelled along they showed no inclination to decamp, but chatted and laughed, each in his own style—Barney being undoubtedly the leading wit of the party. They were heartily welcome at Roaring Water, and both Klitz and Barney showed that they were willing and able to work. The only thing which seemed to put the German out was when any allusion was made to a wheel-barrow.

We had just begun active operations when Winnemak came to see his daughter. Maysotta, however, had no inclination to return with him, and begged that she might remain to assist her new friend, from whom she was hearing more wonderful things daily, as well as gaining more knowledge. Winnemak offered us the services of some of his men, who were willing to work for wages; and although they were not equal to the worst of the white men, yet, by Uncle Jeff's good management, they were made very useful.

From some passing emigrant trains we obtained a good supply of tools,—axes and saws,—and we were busily at work from sunrise to sunset. Clarice and Rachel had succeeded in recovering some of the cattle, pigs, and poultry which had strayed, and in a short time the farm began to assume something of its former appearance.

I had, one afternoon, come back from the forest in which we obtained our timber, in order to get a fresh axe in place of one which I had broken, when I found Maysotta alone in the hut. On asking for Clarice, I was told she had gone to the cool fountain for a pitcher of water. It struck me that something was amiss with the Indian girl, but what it was I could not tell. I was going on to the mill, where I expected to find an axe, when Maysotta added,—

"The young white chief, from the fort out there, came here just now inquiring for you. When he heard that Clarice was at the spring, he hastened off in that direction, without seeming to regard me."

Having obtained the axe, I set off after Manley, whom I was anxious to see, and as I got near the spring I heard him in conversation with my sister.

"Oh no, no! I must not leave my uncle and Ralph; I should be neglecting my duty, should I do so," said Clarice.

"But I have told you how devotedly, how fondly I love you," said Manley. "Do you not love me in return?"

"Yes, I do; I have loved no one else," she replied.

On hearing this confession I should have withdrawn, for I had perfect confidence in Manley, and what I had heard gave me unbounded satisfaction. Clarice, however, had heard me moving among the bushes, and turned her eyes towards me with a startled look. I was sure she had perceived me, so I at once came forward. Manley put out his hand.

"You heard what I said to your sister?"

"Yes; and what she said in reply," I answered. "It gives me the greatest possible pleasure. There is no man I ever met whom I should so much like as a brother-in-law. I would advise Clarice to tell Uncle Jeff at once, and hear what he says about the matter. My belief is, that he will not say anything which either of you would dislike."

Dear little Clarice looked very happy when I said this. I was not surprised that Manley had fallen desperately in love with her, although her beauty certainly did not depend on the elegance of her costume, for she had come out without shoes or stockings, with her hair hanging down over her shoulders, and in her rough working-dress. I must confess I forgot all about my axe, and where I had been going; and having been taken into the confidence of Manley and my sister, I remained talking with them, and settling plans for the future. Suddenly, however, I recollected that I had work to do; and I had an idea that the young couple would not object just then to my attending to my duties. At all events, they said nothing to detain me. Manley agreed to remain with us that night, and I advised him to lose no time in speaking to Uncle Jeff.

A QUESTION, AND A CONFESSION.

To make a long story short, when Uncle Jeff came back after his day's work, Manley, following my advice, spoke to him. His reply was what I had expected:—

"You shall have her with all my heart, for I am very sure you will make her a good husband."

Manley had received his appointment as commandant of the fort; but as the buildings were not as yet fully completed, nor would be fit for a lady's reception during the winter, it was settled that the young couple should wait until next spring to be married, when it was hoped that the chaplain at Fort Harwood would be able to come over and perform the ceremony.

Before the winter set in we had got up a sufficient portion of the house for our accommodation, while the new field hands occupied the hut. Our friend Winnemak paid us frequent visits, too, always bringing a supply of game, which was very welcome, as we had but little time for hunting, and were unwilling to kill any of our farm-stock.

Maysotta had always much to say to her father, and he willingly allowed her to remain with us. His mind was already beginning to awaken to spiritual truth, as he had had the gospel explained to him, and he now compared it with the dark heathen superstitions in which he had hitherto believed. Maysotta entreated Clarice to tell her father all she had told her. She gladly did so, and the hitherto proud chief "became as a little child." He at last fixed his camp in our neighbourhood, and used to visit us nearly every day, in order that he might receive instruction. He even expressed a wish to learn to read; so Uncle Jeff and I became his masters, aided occasionally by Clarice and Maysotta, who had already made considerable progress. The chief's memory was wonderfully good, too, and he thus rapidly learned whole chapters of the Bible, from a translation which we had obtained in the dialect of his people. His great desire was now not only to learn himself, but to induce his own people to accept the blessings of the gospel; and as his wish was to imitate us in everything, he had put up a log-house of considerable size in his village.

I had often promised to pay him a visit. One Sunday I had ridden over to the fort, after Clarice's marriage, to see her and join the service there, when on my way back I bethought me of my promise to Winnemak. I accordingly rode to his village. None of his men were about; so, fastening up my horse, I went towards his house. As I looked in at the door, I saw him standing up at one end, while his chief men and braves were seated around him, attentively listening to the words which fell from his lips. Once he would have addressed them only on some war-like or political matter, but now he was preaching the blessed gospel, while those fierce warriors sat listening with the most profound attention to his words.

WINNEMAK AS A MISSIONARY.

What were those words? He was telling them that they must become as children; that they must be born again, that their old evil nature might be overcome; that they must do good to their enemies, and forgive those who should injure them; that they must lead pure and holy lives, not giving way to their angry feelings, or even indulging in angry thoughts. He told them, too, of the Saviour's love, and the Saviour's death; how God would forgive their sins, which, though red as scarlet, would become white as wool, if they trusted that by that death he had taken their sins upon himself, and had become their Saviour, their Advocate, their great High Priest.

Winnemak having thus become a Christian, did not rest content until he had used every effort to convert the whole of his tribe. Nor did he stop here: he went to other tribes; and when he found his own influence was not sufficient, he procured the assistance of white missionaries, whom he supported and protected.

His example was followed by his former enemy Piomingo, whose young wife and himself became industrious settlers—the greater number of their tribe completely abandoning their old barbarous customs. The only regret of Winnemak was that he and his people had not received these glorious tidings in earlier days, before they had almost ceased to exist as a people in the land where once their warriors were counted by thousands.

But I have been anticipating events. From several of the emigrant trains which came by next season, we obtained not only such stores as we required, but several useful hands; while many of the families, seeing the fertility of the country, and the progress we had made, to say nothing of the protection of the military post, resolved, instead of incurring the dangers of a longer journey, to settle in our neighbourhood.

The new house, as Uncle Jeff and Bartle intended, was far superior to the old one, and although we hoped that we should never again be attacked, yet it was built with an eye to defence, and was considered almost as strong as the fort itself. Happily, however, we have never had occasion to try its capabilities of withstanding a siege.

Fields were added to fields; the stock increased; and God prospering us notwithstanding the heavy losses we had incurred, Uncle Jeff's farm eventually became the most flourishing in the neighbourhood.

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"In the Wilds of Africa"

Chapter One.

On Board the “Osprey”—Off the Coast of Africa.

A dense mist hung over the ocean; the sky above our heads was of a grey tint; the water below our feet of the colour of lead. Not a ripple disturbed its mirror-like surface, except when now and then a covey of flying fish leaped forth to escape from their pursuers, or it was clove by the fin of a marauding shark. We knew that we were not far off the coast of Africa, some few degrees to the south of the Equator; but how near we were we could not tell, for the calm had continued for several days, and a strong current, setting to the eastward, had been rapidly drifting us toward the shore.

Notwithstanding that the sun was obscured, his rays found means of heating the atmosphere, so that we felt much as if we were surrounded by a hot damp blanket.

I had already made a trip to the West Indies, and two to this terrible coast; and as I had escaped without an attack of yellow fever, or cholera, when the Liverpool owners of the brig Osprey—commanded by Captain Page, an old African trader—offered me a berth as supercargo, I willingly accepted it. We were bound out to the Cape of Good Hope, but had arranged to touch at two or three places on the coast, to trade and land passengers. Among other places we were to call at Saint Paul de Loando, to land a Portuguese gentleman, Senhor Silva, and his black servant Ramaon. Our object in trading was to obtain palm-oil, bees’-wax, gold dust, and ivory, in exchange for Manchester and Birmingham goods; and for this purpose we had already visited several places on the coast, picking up such quantities as could be obtained at each of them. We had not, however, escaped without the usual penalty African traders have to pay—two of our men having died of fever, and two others, besides the captain, being sick of it. The first mate, Giles Gritton, and another man, had been washed overboard in a heavy gale we encountered on the other side of the Equator, and we were now, therefore, somewhat short-handed. The first mate was a great loss, for he was an excellent seaman and a first-rate fellow, which is more than could be said of the second mate, Simon Kydd. How he came to be appointed mate seemed unaccountable; unless, as he was related to the owners, interest might have obtained for him what his own merits certainly would not. Taking him at his own value, he had few superiors, if any equals.

I felt much for Captain Page. He took the loss of his first mate greatly to heart, and thus the incapacity of the second contributed considerably to increase his malady. Day after day he grew worse, and I began to fear much that his illness would end fatally. He was as good and kind a man as ever lived, and an excellent sailor.

I had not been knocking about the ocean altogether with my eyes shut, and had managed to pick up a fair amount of nautical knowledge. I did not intrude it unnecessarily; I had a notion that I was regarded with a somewhat jealous eye by those who considered me a mere landsman. I certainly understood more about navigation than Mr Kydd, but that is not saying much. There were few things which I could not do, from handing, reefing, and steering, to turning in a dead-eye, and setting up the rigging; and few situations in which the fickle winds and waves were likely to place a ship with which I was not prepared to contend. Blow high or blow low, I felt myself at home on the ocean. My father had objected to my becoming a sailor, and had placed me in his counting-house. The sedentary life of a clerk was, however, not to my taste, and I was very glad to abdicate my seat on the high stool on every decent pretext. Still I had done my duty when there, and my conscience was at rest on that score. Misfortunes overtook my father’s house; speculations were entered into which proved unsuccessful; and his long-established and highly-esteemed firm got into inextricable difficulties. In vain he and his partners struggled to maintain their credit. The final crash came, and although my mother’s marriage settlement saved the family from penury, he had no capital with which to recommence business. I was too young to take his place. One of his partners died broken-hearted, and he had not the energy left to undertake the onerous duties he would have been called upon to perform. He and my mother and sisters retired to a modest cottage in Cheshire; while his boys, of whom I was the third, had to seek their fortunes in the world. He had done his duty by us. He had given us a good education, and ever striven to instil into our minds the principles of true religion and honour. I shall never forget his parting advice when I started on my first expedition. “Ever trust in God, Andrew,” he said. “Recollect that you were ‘bought with a price,’ and ‘are not your own.’ You have no business to follow your own fancies, or to gratify any of the propensities fallen nature possesses, even though we do possess them, notwithstanding what the devil and the world may say to the contrary. God has given you a body, but ever remember that he has given you a mind to regulate that body. To the animals he has given bodies, and indued them with instincts which we may say are unerring; whereas man’s mind, in consequence of sin, is prone to err; but then again, in his mercy, he has enabled man to seek for strength from above to counteract the effects of sin, and so to regulate his mind that it may properly guide the body. I have no faith in high principles, unless those high principles are kept in order by a higher influence. Therefore, Andrew, read your Bible daily for guidance; go daily to the throne of grace for enlightenment and direction, that you may keep your high principles bright and ever fit for action. Do not trust your feelings; they may mislead you. Do not trust the world or your companions; they may prove faithless monitors or guides. Do not trust, as people say, ‘manfully to yourself.’ Self often proves treacherous.” More to the same effect my father said. I have given briefly his observations. I did my best to carry out his counsel; and through it gained the calmness and courage with which I encountered difficulties and dangers which would otherwise have appalled and overwhelmed me. I was never addicted to talking to my companions of myself, or my principles and feelings; and I sometimes blame myself for not endeavouring more perseveringly to inculcate on others those principles which I knew to be so true and valuable. I now mention the subject, because I can say on paper what my lips have often refused to utter. But I have said enough about myself.

We had several other passengers on board, who, notwithstanding the risks which they knew must be encountered on the African coast, had, for the sake of seeing the country, come on board with the intention of proceeding on to Cape Town, to which, as I said, we were ultimately bound. I will mention first Captain Stanley Hyslop, a near relation of mine, a nephew of my mother’s. He was a military officer, and having sold out of the service, was going to settle in the Cape Colony, where his parents already were. He was accompanied by two younger brothers. David was one of the nicest fellows I ever met. He had been educated as a surgeon, and purposed practising in the country. The youngest, Leonard, or Leo, as we always called him, was an amusing little chap, always thinking funny things and saying them, and yet there was a simplicity about him which was very attractive. He had been sent to school in England, but being considered somewhat delicate—not, certainly, that he looked so—it was recommended that he should return to breathe his native air at the Cape. David was also, I should say, an enthusiastic naturalist, and the hope of increasing his knowledge at the places we might visit, had, besides his regard for me, induced him to take his passage on board the Osprey, just as his brother expected to get a few days sporting while the brig remained at anchor. I had seen but little of Stanley, but for David I had always felt a warm regard.

There were, however, two other members of the family, in one of whom, at all events, I must own I felt still more interested, although I knew that it would not do for me in my present situation to exhibit my feelings. My cousin, Kate Hyslop, was a very pretty, engaging girl, who had a short time before left school. She was also full of spirit, while she was right-minded and sweet-tempered. Her younger sister, Isabella, or Bella as she was called, was quite a little girl. She also had been at school; but her parents naturally could not bear to have her left behind, and so Kate had undertaken to complete her education; and from the time we sailed she was most assiduous in her attempts to do so. Sometimes I fancied she gave her almost too much teaching. When her brother, however, made a remark to that effect, she answered that it was important not to lose time, as opportunities might be wanting by-and-by; and when once they arrived in the colony, she knew that there would be so many interruptions and hindrances, and she might have so many other duties to perform, that Bella might not get the due amount of knowledge she wished her to possess. Blow high or blow low, Kate always made Bella learn her lessons. Sometimes holding on by the leg of a table in the cabin during a gale, there the two sisters would be found with their books. Both were capital sailors, as people say—that is, they were never ill at sea; so that they were not inconvenienced as most other people would have been by the tossing and tumbling of the stout brig.

They were attended by an old negro, Peter Timbo by name, who was the most watchful of guardians. He was the captain’s servant, and had always accompanied him in his shooting expeditions when he was before staying at the Cape. Timbo, also, from what I heard him say, knew more about his native country than any one on board. He was born at some distance from the sea, not far from the Equator. When he was just growing into manhood, his village had been attacked by another tribe, and he, with several companions in misfortune, had been carried off to the coast. He was there shipped on board a Portuguese slaver, which, venturing to the north of the line, was chased and captured by a British man-of-war. Timbo, having a fancy for a sea life, and being an active, intelligent fellow, had been allowed to enter on board her. After serving for some years, he had been discharged at the Cape; where, after following several pursuits, he had become a servant to my uncle and aunt, Mr and Mrs Hyslop. Peter was loquacious and ever merry, and it was pleasant to hear him give way to one of his hearty laughs. He had thick lips, a huge flattish nose, and somewhat high head, covered with thick curling wool, now beginning to show signs of turning grey. Although he understood English perfectly, he still spoke it in a somewhat negro fashion, which often gave piquancy to his expressions; but from the way his master treated him, and from the affectionate care he seemed to take of the younger members of the family, it was evident that he must be a worthy man, notwithstanding his want of personal attractions.

“Ah, Massa Andrew, we nebber know as kind God does what is good for us,” he remarked to me one day. “I bery sorryful when slaver people carry me off from my home in Pongo country. I t’ink I go to die, dat dere was no God to look after poor black fellow. I know only of Fetish, and I afraid of Fetish. Den I get among white men, and I see and hear much dat is bad, and still I t’ink dere is no God. Den years pass by, and I hear of de merciful Saviour, who die for me; and I say, ‘Dat is just what I want,’ and I learn to be Christian. But I will tell you anoder day more about myself; I now go to get ready de cabin dinner.”

I told Timbo that I should keep him to his promise, as I was much interested in the short account he had given of himself.

We had four other passengers—Mr John and Mr Charles Rowley, and Miss Julia Rowley their sister, who seemed very nice people, but they kept themselves rather aloof from me, as well as from the mate, though they were friendly enough with the passengers, whom they considered their equals. The last person I need name was a young Irishman, Mr Terence O’Brien, who was of no profession that I could find out, but proposed settling as a colonist at the Cape. I have thus at once run off a brief description of my companions, of the last mentioned of whom, at that time, I knew comparatively little. Having said thus much of them, I will continue the thread of my narrative.

“How is the weather, Andrew?” said Captain Page as I went into his cabin. We had the skylight off, to let in as much air as possible, but yet it felt hot and stifling. He was very pale. His lips were of a bluish tinge, and his eyes were sunken and dim. On a locker close by him sat a young boy with a book before him, from which he was in vain endeavouring to read. I saw that Natty had been crying, for tears bedewed the page. He was the captain’s only son. His mother was dead, and rather than leave him on shore to the care of strangers, his father had brought him on this African voyage. “It was a choice of two evils,” he said to me one day. “The boy’s constitution is good, and we must not let him be exposed to the night air or hot suns up the rivers, and he will probably stand the climate better than most of us.” Such indeed had been the case, and Natty had been well, and had until now been full of life and spirits—the favourite of all on board. He and my young cousin Leonard soon struck up a friendship, and were of course always together. For once Natty had left his friend to remain by the side of his father. The captain had been speaking to him, for his voice ceased as I appeared.

I replied to the captain’s question, “No signs of a change, Captain Page. We hove the lead, but found no bottom. We must still be some distance off the coast.”

“I trust so,” was the answer. “Heave the lead every quarter of an hour, and let me know when we are in soundings. Take another cast at once, and then come back.”

I told the mate. “Why, I did so not twenty minutes ago,” he answered. “What does the old man want us to do it again for?”

“The captain knows this coast well, Mr Kydd,” I answered. “We may be thankful to get an anchor to hold as soon as we get into shallow water.”

Seeing the mate did not seem disposed to obey, I took the lead, and calling to two of the hands, prepared to heave it.

“No, no,” observed Kydd, “that is my work;” and taking the lead from me, hove it carelessly. “No bottom,” he answered; “I should think not, indeed, out here.”

It appeared to me that as the line ran out the whole length, he could not be mistaken. Returning to the cabin, I made my report to the captain. “Andrew,” he said, “sit down; I want to have a few words with you. I am going to that haven whence I shall never come back. I feel that I shall not hold on much longer to life. I have not been a successful man, and leave my boy but ill-provided for. As to my friends, there are none that I can think of who are able to help him; and the few acquaintances I have who could do so, I cannot trust. The thought of what will become of my orphan boy weighs heavily on me. Andrew, you are young and healthy, and may Heaven preserve your life for many years! I have no great claim on you, but Andrew, as you hope Heaven will watch over you, do you keep an eye on my boy. Do for him the best you can. I have seen enough of you to know that you will act wisely and kindly. I do not desire to have him pampered and spoiled by riches, if I could give them, but I cannot bear the thought of his being left friendless and in poverty to fight his way through this often hard and cruel world. You will see to this, Andrew? I am sure you will.”

“I will, Captain Page; I promise you,” I answered, and I took his cold clammy hand.

Poor Natty was all this time sobbing violently. The truth that he was going to lose his father burst upon him, and that father had ever been kind and indulgent.

“That is well, that is well,” murmured Captain Page. “I trust to you to be his human protector, and to One”—and he turned his eyes upward—“who will ever be a Friend of the fatherless.”

The captain said a good deal more, and made various arrangements about Natty. Desiring me to get some papers from his desk, he showed me how I could obtain the little property he was likely to leave.

“I wish I could see the brig safely brought to an anchor,” he observed after a long silence. “It is a nasty coast at best. With a breeze we could work off it, but while this calm lasts we cannot help ourselves from being carried wherever the current takes us, till we get into water shoal enough for anchoring. I shall be happier when once we can bring up, for if we do not, we may, when we little expect it, be driven on shore; and let me tell you, Andrew, what with the surf and the sharks, few of us are likely to escape with our lives. I know this coast well, and a sandy beach, exposed to the whole sweep of the Atlantic, is even more dangerous than a rocky shore. It must be time again to heave the lead. Go on deck, Andrew, and see how things are.”

I found the passengers seated under an awning, which the mate had rigged at their request. He himself was walking up and down the deck, coming the officer in fine style, and endeavouring to make himself agreeable to the young ladies. He evidently anticipated the moment when he should have the command; indeed, he seemed to fancy himself the master already. When I told him that the captain desired me again to heave the lead, he appeared not to hear me, but continued talking to Miss Rowley with the insinuating air he knew so well how to assume. Miss Hyslop took but little notice of him when he addressed her, and turned away, giving her attention to Bella’s lessons, or going on with any work she might have in hand, for she never was a moment idle. She was admirably fitted for colonial life; indeed, I may say, for any position in which she might be placed. If she had become a duchess, she would not have been an idle one.—I again addressed Mr Kydd. I told him that the captain wished to have the lead hove.

“The old man is always issuing his orders through you, Mr Crawford,” he answered at length, in a scornful tone. “I know, I should think, what ought to be done, and I will do it. And I beg you will not interrupt me when I am talking to ladies.” He added the last sentence in a whisper, sufficiently loud, however, for Miss Rowley to hear him.

“As the captain has been too ill to take an observation for some time, I suppose that you know our correct longitude, Mr Kydd. He, at all events, considers that we are close in with the African coast; and, as you are aware, it would be a terrible thing to have the brig cast on one of the sandbanks which lie off it,” I remarked.

“No fear of that,” he answered scornfully. “We shall have a breeze soon, probably, and then we will stand to the westward, and run down to the latitude of Loando. We are not many degrees from that, at all events.”

“The captain is a good seaman, and he has his reasons for ordering the lead to be hove,” I answered. “If the calm continues, he wishes us to anchor as soon as the water shoals sufficiently.”

“Shoals sufficiently!” repeated the mate, in the same scornful tone; “we have no line on board to reach the bottom, I’ll warrant.” The mate unintentionally spoke loud enough for the gentlemen to hear him.

“Come, Mr Kydd, I suppose you intend to obey the captain’s orders,” said Captain Hyslop, coming up to where we were standing. “It seems to me that he has good reason for giving them.”

“I believe, sir, that I am chief officer of the Osprey, and that I know my duty,” said the mate. “It is not customary for passengers to interfere with the navigation of the ship.”

“Certainly not, sir,” answered Stanley; “but I trust all on board will obey the captain’s orders while he is able to give them.”

“That will not be for long,” muttered the mate in an undertone. “I intend to do what is necessary, and I do not see that there is any use to keep heaving the lead out here almost in mid-ocean.”

“But are we in mid-ocean, Mr Kydd? The captain considers that we are close in with the coast,” remarked Stanley.

“Faith, there is going to be a row,” I heard Terence O’Brien exclaim to young Mr Rowley. “See! I would like to be after giving them a poke. It would be rare fun.”

“It would not be rare fun if the captain is right,” was the answer.

“Am I to report to Captain Page that you decline heaving the lead, Mr Kydd?” I said at length, seeing that he made no movement to obey the order.

“Do as you like, Mr Crawford. I am not going to be dictated to by any man on board,” replied the mate in an obstinate tone.

“The captain is very ill, as you know, and I fear your conduct will greatly vex him and tend to aggravate his disease,” I said, still unwilling to return below. “I hope you will let me heave the lead if you will not do it yourself.”

“Are you hired to navigate this ship, or am I?” he said in an angry tone, turning round to me. “I am chief officer, and unless the captain comes on deck to give his commands, I intend to do as I think fit. If you touch the lead, I shall consider it an act of mutiny, and order the crew to put you in irons.”

I did not wish to bring things to extremities, and yet I could not bring myself to tell the captain how the mate was behaving. I waited, but waited in vain, to see whether he would change his mind. He still stood with his hands in his pockets, casting defiant looks around. I was in hopes that Stanley and the other gentlemen would interfere; but they remained silent, though somewhat astonished at the mate’s behaviour. At last, finding there was no help for it, I went back to the cabin.

“I am sorry to say, Captain Page, that Mr Kydd seems to consider that there is no necessity for heaving the lead, and refuses to do so at present,” I said on entering. “I will do anything you wish, and again carry your orders if you desire me.”

“I must go on deck myself then,” said the captain, attempting to rise. “Help me on with my clothes, Andrew. I feel very weak, but if he forces me to it, I must go.” I assisted the captain to dress, with the help of Natty. “Here, give me your arm, Andrew; it is a stronger one than poor Natty’s. I must do it, though it kills me.”

I felt the poor captain tremble all over as I helped him along to the companion-ladder. He climbed up with the greatest difficulty; indeed, without my assistance he could not have got along. He at length reached the deck. He could scarcely stand, and was obliged to hold on by the companion-hatch. His face was pale as death. His white hair hung down on each side of his forehead, over which the skin seemed stretched like thin parchment. His lips had lost all colour, and his blue eyes, as he gazed around, had an unnatural brightness.

“Mr Kydd,” he said, “you have compelled me at a severe cost to come up on deck. I order you to heave the lead. And, men,” he cried out, “assist the mate to carry out my orders.”

Kydd was now obliged to obey. Going to the chains, he hove the lead. I looked over the side to watch him, and saw by the way the line slackened that bottom was found. Just at that moment I heard some one cry out, “See! see! What is the matter with the captain?” I ran aft. He had fallen to the deck. “Oh, father, father! speak to me!” cried Natty, who was by his side. I lifted up the old man’s head. David Hyslop had hastened to him, and was kneeling on the deck holding his hand. “He has swooned,” he said. “He should not have left his bed.”

“Can you do anything for him?”

“We will carry him below, but I fear the worst,” he whispered.

Just then the sails of the brig gave a loud, thundering flap, and yet there was no wind; but I felt that a huge wave coming along the ocean had passed under her. The passengers looked at each other with an expression of dismay in their countenances, not knowing what was next going to happen; while David and I, with the assistance of Stanley and Mr Rowley, began to carry the captain down below. Not without difficulty, as he was somewhat heavy, we placed him on his bed. David again felt his pulse.

“It is all over, I fear,” he said in a low voice, so that Natty could not hear. “Bring a glass! I cannot feel his heart beating.” His brother brought a small glass from their sisters’ cabin, and David held it over Captain Page’s mouth, and again felt his heart. “He is gone,” he said. “No human skill can restore him.”

Natty, who had been standing outside, now sprang into the cabin. “Oh, tell me!” he said, looking imploringly up at David, “tell me!—is my father likely to get better? Why will he not speak to me?”

David did not reply, but made a sign to me to lead him out of the cabin. I saw my cousin close the old man’s eyes as I took Natty by the hand and led him to the main cabin. I thought I would tell him at once what had happened; but a choking sensation came into my throat, and I could not utter a word.

“Is father not getting better,” he asked, after a time. “Why did he not speak to me just now?”

“I am afraid he is not getting better,” I replied; “but come on deck.” The idea struck me that I would get one of the young ladies to speak to him, as they would tell him of his loss with more gentleness than any one else. When we reached the deck he saw Leo, who ran up to him, and took him aft to show him a large shark he had been watching swimming about close astern. I seized the opportunity of speaking to Miss Rowley, and told her what had happened.

“Oh, no, no; I am sure I cannot speak to the child. I should not know what to say,” she answered. “Just tell him yourself. I do not suppose boys are likely to be much affected by such an occurrence.”

I could not help giving her a look expressive of the surprise and pain I felt. Could that elegant young lady be so heartless and indifferent to the sorrow of others? My cousin Kate was sitting a little further off, out of hearing of her brother and Natty.

“The captain is dead,” I said, in a low voice; “but his poor boy does not know it.”

“Is the kind old man really gone?” she exclaimed, looking up into my face, and a tear starting into her eye. “Oh, how sad for poor Natty! But he must be told; and yet he will feel it dreadfully.”

“Will you tell him then, Kate?” I asked. “It is necessary to do so at once, and yet it is hard to wound his feelings.”

“Yes,” she said; “I will try, even though it would greatly pain me. Yes yes!” she continued. “Come here, Natty, and sit down by me.—You need not be afraid, Andrew, I will speak gently to him.”

I was sure she would. Her sweet countenance showed me how much she felt for the boy. I did not hear what she said, but she took his hand, and looked kindly into his face. He saw the tears in her eyes as she went on talking, and then, at length, he seemed to comprehend the truth, and began to sob violently. I saw her take both his hands, and cast on him a look of sympathy, of more avail just then than any words she could have uttered. Directly after he started up, as if to run to the cabin where his dead father lay; but she held him back by gentle force; and then he sat quiet, and sobbed and sobbed as if his young heart would break; and she again began to speak so soothingly to him, looking so kindly into his face, her tears falling fast, that I knew he was gaining the comfort he needed.

The mate meantime, hearing what had happened, went into the cabin, as if to satisfy himself. When he returned on deck, I saw that he could scarcely conceal his satisfaction as he looked about with an air of authority.

“Men,” he said—for the crew had come up, a rumour having reached them of what had occurred—“I am now captain of this brig, and you will have to obey my orders. You understand me. I am not going to have any of the nonsense we had before; what I say I’ll have done, and if there’s any slackness, look out for squalls.”

Captain Page, I should have said, had been accustomed to have prayers every morning and service on Sunday—a practice not common, I am sorry to say, in those days aboard merchantmen. The good old customs of our forefathers had long been given up, when, rough as seamen might have been, there were far more God-fearing men among them than at present; so I have read. I am afraid Kydd alluded to this practice of the captain’s, as well as to the kind and gentle way in which he ruled his crew. The men touched their hats in recognition of his authority, but I saw from the looks they cast at him, that they held him in very different estimation to their late master. A stricter captain, perhaps, might have kept them in better order. Many of them were somewhat rough hands; but still his kindness had won their hearts, and, rough as they were, they now showed unmistakable signs of sorrow for his death.

When the mate ceased speaking, and turned aft with a conceited air, I saw them talking together, and casting no very complimentary looks towards him. The old boatswain, indeed, Jeremiah Barker, took but little pains to conceal his indignation. No sooner was the mate’s back turned than he lifted up his fist with a threatening gesture, which made me fear greatly for the future discipline of the ship. As to expostulating with a fellow like Kydd, I knew it would be utterly useless; and I was afraid that even if Stanley or the other gentlemen spoke to him, he would be as little likely to attend to them as to me.

I must confess that the captain’s death and this conduct of Kydd made me forget altogether the almost dying injunctions of the former to anchor as soon as we got into shallow water. The latter also seemed entirely to have forgotten that we were already in soundings.

“Well, sir,” he said, coming up to Stanley, “I suppose we must see about getting the old man buried. I am no hand at preaching or praying, and so I will ask you to read the funeral service. We will do all things ship-shape and right.”

“Why, sir,” exclaimed Stanley, in a tone of indignation, “the poor man’s breath is scarcely out of his body! You would not throw him overboard at once surely!”

“We have to manage that sort of thing pretty sharply out in these latitudes,” answered Kydd. “I shall be wanting his cabin, too; and as it may be two or three days before we reach Loando, we cannot have him buried on shore. We are not far off that place, and I hope we shall be able to get an observation in a short time, and see exactly where we are.”

“You are now master of the vessel, and I shall not interfere with your authority,” said Stanley; “but I think it would be more decent to wait as long as we can for the sake of the poor little boy there. When his feelings are more calm he would like to see his dead father.”

“Oh, certainly, sir, as you please, as you please,” said the mate, turning away. “I will give you another hour to indulge your fancy, but I have no maudlin feelings of that sort.”

If the look of unutterable disgust which passed over my cousin’s countenance could have made Kydd ashamed of himself, he would have hid his face; but he continued pacing the deck and turning his head about as if considering which order he should next issue. I saw Kate at length take Natty down into the captain’s cabin, and I thought it best to allow her and the boy to be alone there together at that sad moment. The boatswain then came aft and said that he and the crew wished to see their late captain.

“What is that for?” asked Kydd, and I thought he was going to refuse the request.

“He was our friend, and we would like to have a last look at his kind face,” answered the boatswain.

“Well, if the passengers do not mind your going into the cabin, I do not,” said the mate, turning aside.

Perhaps he did not quite like the expression of old Barker’s countenance. I led the way into the cabin, and the crew came, one by one, following the boatswain. “Well, you was an honest, kind man as ever lived, and that’s more than can be said of him who has stepped into your shoes,” said old Barker, apostrophising the captain. “He is less of a sailor than your little finger was; and as to sense, he has not as much as was in your thumb-nail.” The remarks of the other men, as they passed by, were still less complimentary to the new master; and had he heard them, he might well have doubted his power of keeping his crew in order. I felt, indeed, very anxious, for though I had thought very little of Kydd, I was not aware how he was despised and detested by the men.

I more than ever wished that a breeze would spring up, that they might have something to do, and that we might get away from this dangerous part of the coast. The calm, however, still continued, and at length the time came for lowering our late captain into his ocean grave. The sailmaker came aft with the boatswain to superintend the operation of enclosing him in a hammock, into which they fastened a pig of iron ballast.

“Them sharks shan’t have him, nohow,” observed the sailmaker; “for though the bottom may be a long way off, he will reach it pretty quickly, and lie quiet there till the day when we all come up from the land or sea—it will not then matter where we have lain in the meantime—to answer for ourselves. I only wish I was as sure to give as good an account of myself as he is.”

“Be quick there!” cried the mate from the deck. “There is a breeze coming up, I have a notion, and we shall have to trim sails. I wish to get this business over first.”

Kate had been keeping Natty by her side while this was going forward. Two of the other men now came below and assisted to carry the captain’s body on deck, where my cousin Stanley had got his prayer-book, and stood ready. The old boatswain had thrown a flag over the body, now placed on a plank, one end of which projected out of a port. While the funeral service of the Church of England was read, not a sound was heard except the unrepressed sobs which burst from poor Natty’s bosom, and the creaking of the yards and blocks as the brig moved imperceptibly from side to side. Then came the dull, sullen sound of a plunge, as, old Barker lifting up the end of the plank, the body slid off into the water. As I looked over the side I could see the white shrouded figure descending into the depths of ocean. Just as it disappeared, I caught sight of the dark form of a huge shark gliding towards it; but I had hopes that it had sunk far below the creature’s reach before he could seize it.

“Stow away that plank,” said the mate, the instant the captain’s body had been launched overboard. “I wish this breeze would come, though,” he added, glancing round.

Still he gave no orders to heave the lead, as the late captain had advised. I knew well enough that to remind him would only make him less likely to do it, so I said nothing, though I kept looking over into the water to see if there was any change of colour which might be produced by our getting nearer the land. Now again came one of those sullen flaps of the sails, showing that though we might seem to be at rest, the vessel was occasionally moved by no gentle force; and I could distinguish, as I looked eastward, a smooth undulation which seemed rolling away in that direction. Still the sky remained obscured as before, and a gauze-like mist hung over the ocean. The atmosphere felt hotter and more oppressive than ever. The passengers remained on deck, for the cabins were almost unbearable. The ladies were trying to read or work, but Kate alone continued to ply her active fingers. Miss Rowley scarcely turned a page, while little Bella kept looking with her large blue eyes at poor Natty, who sat with his head resting on his hands, utterly unable to recover himself. As I looked over the side I observed that the undulations I have spoken of became more and more frequent, on each occasion, as they passed, giving the brig a slow shake, and making the sails flap loudly as before. The crew were talking together, and, led by old Barker, were ranging the cable for anchoring, Mr Kydd having disappeared below. Suddenly he returned on deck.

“Who ordered you to do that?” he exclaimed in an angry tone. “Did I tell you I was going to bring the ship to an anchor?”

“No, sir,” answered the boatswain; “but any one who is acquainted with these parts must know that it is the only thing to be done to save the brig and our lives. For who can tell that we may not be ashore any moment!”

“You are a mutinous rascal,” exclaimed Kydd. “I will not allow the brig to be brought to an anchor till I see fit. We are fifty miles off the coast, and more than that, perhaps.”

“What, with fifty fathom only under our keel!” exclaimed the boatswain. “What is the meaning, too, of these breakers away in the south-east? Mr Kydd, we must anchor, and you ought to know it.”

I looked out in the direction towards which the boatswain pointed. The sun was already sinking into the ocean, and his rays lighted up a line of foam, or what looked like it, in the south-east.

Kydd, on the boatswain’s remark, broke out into a furious passion, and, hurrying into his cabin, appeared again with a brace of pistols in his hand. Placing them in his belt, he walked the deck, muttering incoherently to himself. No one interfered. I felt unwilling to go below, though the steward called me to supper. The sun had long disappeared—the moon rose, and shed a bright silvery light upon the ocean. It was perfectly calm; and as, on looking round, I could see no breakers, nor hear their sound, I at length turned in. I was too anxious, however, to sleep long. On going on deck and again looking out, there I saw, not a quarter of a mile off a black ledge of rocks rising some feet out of the water. The brig was drifting by them at a rate which showed how strong a current was running. What was my surprise to see a boat coming off from the rock. “What is that?” I asked.

“Why, I have treated one mutinous rascal as I intend to treat you if you follow his example,” answered Kydd, who heard my question.

I was too much astonished to speak. After pacing the deck for a few minutes I went below to consult with Stanley.

“We must put him under arrest,” he said at length. “But go on deck and learn how the men take the proceeding.”

On my return I found the boat alongside. The crew climbed on board. Could they really have executed so barbarous an order! Great was my relief to find the boatswain among them.

“You rascals, I ordered you to land him on these rocks!” exclaimed Kydd, when he caught sight of the old man.

“So we did; and he ordered us to take him off again,” answered one of the crew. “We have as good a right to obey him as you, Mr Kydd. If you was to die, like the captain and first mate, he’s the only officer left to take charge of the brig.”

Kydd was a coward. This answer silenced him, and without uttering a word he went below.

The passengers assembled at breakfast the next morning with anxious faces. They knew that something was very wrong, but could not exactly tell what. The calm continued. A thick mist hung over the ocean as on the previous day, the rocks were no longer in sight, the vessel floated tranquilly on the treacherous waters. Kydd had completely recovered himself. He had the awning spread, and with a smiling countenance invited the passengers to come on deck, and tried to make himself agreeable to Miss Rowley. Some time thus passed. At last I saw the boatswain and several of the men coming up.

“Mr Kydd,” said the former, “I have to ask you whether you intend to anchor, and try to keep the ship out of danger or not?”

“Not till the land is in sight, and I see the necessity,” answered Kydd quite calmly. He said nothing more for a minute or so. Then suddenly he exclaimed in a furious tone, “But I am not going to be dictated to by a set of mutinous scoundrels.” I need not repeat all his words.

Just at that moment I heard that peculiar low, suppressed roar which a seaman knows so well to indicate breakers I begged the mate to listen, telling him what I had heard, but he was deaf to reason, and declared he would only anchor when he saw fit. He seemed to have gone out of his mind, and I felt that I should be justified in assisting the crew in putting him under restraint; but he was in reality as much in his senses as ever, though under the influence of his passion and obstinacy. Just at that moment another roller came in toward the brig from the westward, and the next instant all on deck were almost thrown off their feet. A blow was felt which made her shake fore and aft, and the water, which had hitherto not even rippled against her side, now broke over her in a shower of spray. The passengers started up. Kate clasped her little sister round the neck, and seized the arm of her brother David, who was standing near her. “What is the matter? what has happened?” shrieked out Miss Rowley in an attitude expressive of her terror.

“We are on shore,” cried some of the men; “that is what has happened.”

Such was too truly the case. The old captain’s warnings had been neglected, and his prognostications were thus terribly fulfilled.

Chapter Two.

Wreck of the “Osprey,” and our Escape.

Boastful as the mate had been, he turned deadly pale as he saw the dangerous position in which the brig was placed. When, however, she lay quiet—the sea not again breaking over her—he recovered himself. The crew meantime, led by Barker, had gone aloft, without his orders, to furl sails, the first thing under the circumstances to be done.

“Get the boats out,” he said at length. His voice had lost its usual authoritative tone. “We must warp the vessel off.”

“No easy matter to do that,” observed the boatswain. “I know what these banks are made of, and it will be a hard job to find holding ground. Which way will you haul her off, sir?”

“The way she came on,” answered the mate. “That was sideways, I have a notion,” observed old Barker. “You will not get her off so.”

I soon saw, by the manner the brig lay over, that Barker was right; but without sounding round her, it was impossible to judge properly what to do. I suggested that this was the first thing to be done. “Give your advice when it is asked, Mr Crawford,” said Kydd, walking up and down the deck. “Be smart there with the boats!”

While he was speaking, another wave came rolling in and struck the vessel with greater force than the former one, breaking over the fore part of the deck.

“We must get the boats over to the starboard side,” said Barker (the vessel’s head was to the north). “They will be stove in if we attempt to lower them on the outer side.”

“What are you afraid of, man?” exclaimed Kydd. “Why, the sea is as smooth as a mill-pond between these rollers. Am I to be obeyed, or am I not? Here, lower this boat first. We will have her round on the other side before the next roller comes in.”

Several of the men hastened to obey him. The boat was cleared, and two of the crew jumping into her, she was lowered. Just, however, as she reached the water, before the others could follow, another far heavier roller came gliding towards us. “In board for your lives, lads!” I cried out, but the men either did not hear me or despised the warning. The wave struck the boat and dashed it with tremendous force against the counter, sweeping them off towards the shore. They held out their hands imploring assistance.

“If we get the starboard-quarter boat lowered we shall be in time to save them, Mr Kydd,” I said; and without waiting for his reply, Barker and I, with Jack Handspike, assisted by some of the gentlemen, lowered the boat. Scarcely, however, had we seized the oars, when we heard a loud shriek, and one of the poor fellows disappeared beneath the surface. A shark had taken him. The other, who was at a little distance, saw his companion’s fate, and cried out to us to make haste. We pulled away as hard as we could lay our backs to the oars, old Barker steering. But just before we reached the man, his arms were thrown up, and down he sank. He, too, had become the prey of one of the rapacious monsters of the deep. We now returned on board, the boat remaining perfectly quit on the starboard side. No attempt had been made in the meantime to sound round the vessel. I offered to do it.

“I have made up my mind to haul her off astern,” answered Kydd. “We will carry a kedge out in that direction.”

“As you please,” I said. “It may be right, but it may be the wrong way.”

“It is my way, at all events,” was the petulant reply.

It was necessary to get the long-boat into the water to carry out the kedge. Before this could be done, she had to be cleared of all sorts of articles stowed in her. It took us some time. The fate of their companions had thrown a damp over the spirits of the men, and they did not work with their ordinary activity. I could not help looking out seaward now and then, thinking that heavier rollers might be coming in, when our position would be truly dangerous. Where we were all this time we could not ascertain,—whether we were on a sandbank at a distance from the coast, or on the coast itself. In either case the danger was great. At last we got a kedge out right astern, and the crew manned the capstan. They worked away for some time. It seemed to me that the anchor was coming home. I was sure of it indeed, for not an inch did the vessel move. I meantime had got hold of the hand-lead, and hove it ahead. There was ample water there, at all events, for the brig to float. I then ran with it aft and dropped it over the taffrail. The water was evidently much shallower at that end of the ship. We had been working away all that time, therefore, to haul her still faster on to the bank. I was determined not to stand this any longer.

“Perhaps, Mr Kydd, you will try the depth of the water astern as well as ahead,” I said; “and it strikes me that if we were to attempt to haul her off the other way, we might have a better chance of success.”

“Leave that to me,” he answered in the same tone as before.

“Round with the pauls, my lads,” he sung out. “We will soon have her afloat.”

“I am not going to step another foot round the capstan without I know that we are trying to haul off the right way,” said Barker, who overheard what I had said.

This remark made the mate furious. The men followed Barker’s example. Mr Kydd swore and stamped about the deck, declaring that there was a mutiny.

“No mutiny, sir,” answered old Barker; “but our lives are worth as much to us as yours is to you.”

“Take that then!” cried the mate, rushing forward toward the old man and striking him a blow which brought him to the deck. “Who is going to oppose me now?”

I thought the boatswain was killed, for he lay motionless. The crew, indignant at the way one they looked upon as their friend was treated, threw down the pauls, and refused to work any longer. Jack Handspike alone remained firm in entreating them to obey orders. “Mr Kydd is now master of the ship, and if we do not obey him, whom are we to obey?” he said.

While the dispute was going on, the passengers taking no part in it, the mist which had hitherto hung over the sea slowly lifted, and looking to the eastward I saw a line of coast, fringed with mangrove bushes, and blue mountains rising in the distance. “The land! the land! we are all right!” cried some of the crew. “I for one am not going to stop here and be bullied by an ignorant greenhorn!” cried one. “Nor I,” exclaimed another. “Well, mates, let us take the old boatswain, who was our friend at all times, and see what is to be got on shore. Would any of you ladies and gentlemen like to come with us?”

Captain Hyslop now stepped forward. “My men,” he said, “I know what you are likely to find on yonder coast, and I entreat you to remain on board till we see if we can get the brig off. The probabilities are that the boat will be upset in the surf as you attempt to land, and if not, when you get on shore there are savage people, who are as likely as not to murder you immediately.”

“Oh, that’s all humbug!” cried one of the men, “just to make us remain. Mates, are we to go, or are we to stop and get abused by this ignorant fellow?”

The crew, one and all, with the exception of Handspike, were in a state of mutiny. I spoke to them, but they would not listen to me. “Well, you may go with us,” they said, “but go we will. We do not want to leave anybody behind.” Without attempting even to bring the anchor on board, they lifted the still insensible boatswain into the boat, and in spite of the entreaties of the ladies and Stanley’s warnings, shoved off. Kydd not till then seemed to recollect that he had pistols in his belt. Drawing one, he senselessly fired, but the men were too far off to be injured. They answered with loud laughs and gestures of derision, and away they pulled. We had now only one boat left, and she was too small to weigh the anchor. I begged Stanley and David and one of the Mr Rowleys to come with me in her, however, to sound round the vessel. Kydd by this time was almost beside himself with rage, and did not interfere with us. We found, as I suspected, that the brig had driven broadside on to a long sandbank, an eighth of a mile in width, but how long we could not tell, for the water was deep on the outer or port side of the vessel; ahead it was also sufficiently deep to float her; and should the wind come off shore, I was in great hopes that we might yet forge her off. Astern, however, the water was far more shallow; and, indeed, the senseless efforts which Kydd had made had contributed to drag her still further on. It all depended, however, upon the wind coming from the eastward. A westerly wind must inevitably prove our destruction, as with the sea which broke against her in that perfect calm, it was clear that the breeze would have the effect of driving her further on, and sending the sea completely over her. Our position was a truly fearful one. Stanley, however, who was no seaman, did not seem to dread it so much, but Handspike and Timbo fully agreed with me that we should be prepared for the worst. Deserted by the crew, even should the wind come off the shore, we could with difficulty make sail, and then it would be a hard matter to navigate the vessel. We only, hoped, however, that they would return on finding the unattractive appearance of the coast. The mist clearing away to the west, the rays of the sun glanced almost horizontally across the waters, over which they cast a ruddy glow, showing us the boat just as she reached the shore, I went aloft with a spy-glass to watch her, and could make out a number of dark figures hurrying down to the beach. She stopped for some time when at no great distance, and the people in her seemed to be holding a conversation with those on shore. She then pulled on, and directly afterwards I saw her surrounded by the dark figures, who seemed to be running her up the beach. Presently, to my horror, I perceived some of the crew running, and the blacks apparently pursuing them. Now one was struck down, now another. It was too evident that the infatuated men were being murdered by the savages. Soon all pursuit ceased; and here and there I could see figures stretched their length and motionless on the sand. Then I made out a crowd of blacks dancing and leaping, so it seemed to me, round the boat. A new alarm seized me. I was afraid that they might attempt to come off, and treat us as they had done the crew. Anxious to watch them, I did not descend till the shades of night, which rapidly came on, hid them from my sight. I then returned on deck, and taking Stanley and David aside, told them what had occurred.

“We must defend ourselves to the last,” he answered, “if they do come. It will be better to die fighting than let them get on board. What do you advise?”

“We have nearly a dozen muskets,” I said, “and with our two guns we may make a stout defence. I do not think they would wish to encounter our firearms, even though they possibly have some themselves.”

“I am afraid that fellow Kydd will be of no use to us,” observed Stanley. “He seems beside himself. We will hear what Timbo says, however. He knows more of these people than any of us.”

Timbo was standing at no great distance, and Stanley called him up. I told him what I had seen.

“Not surprised,” he observed. “De white men make dem slave, and so when dey catch de white men dey kill dem. Dat’s it; but dey no come off at night. No fear of dat. Dey t’ink we one slaver; and if we fired a gun, dey no come off at all.”

This information was cheering, as we thought we could rely on Timbo’s knowledge.

“Would you consent to go on shore and gain their friendship?” I asked. “If they know that we are not their enemies, they may possibly be disposed to help us; for as to getting off the brig, I fear greatly it is not to be done.”

He hesitated. “Yes,” he said at length; “I go to-morrow morning. I talk deir lingo; and if dey come from up de country, as I t’ink, I make friends wid dem.”

I agreed to accompany him, with David and the younger Mr Rowley. Darkness at length came on; and as the mist settled once more over the ocean we were unable to see many fathoms on either side of the vessel. We made these arrangements without consulting Kydd, for his conduct had been such that we felt it would be useless: indeed, when I looked round I could not distinguish him on deck. All this time the brig lay tolerably quiet, for though the sea every now and then struck her, and I feared sent her even more on to the bank, yet it did not break over sufficiently to wash anybody off the deck; the after part, indeed, remained perfectly dry. Here the ladies had collected, with the two boys, while the five gentlemen passengers, Jack Handspike, Timbo, and I, busied ourselves in getting up the muskets and ammunition for them and the guns. “We are going to fire,” I heard Stanley say, and soon afterwards Timbo appeared with a hot poker from the galley fire, and our guns were discharged in succession. “Dat keep de niggers away,” he observed, returning to the galley. I was surprised that Kydd made no inquiry when the guns were fired. As I was going aft I saw a figure come up the companion-hatch. I could make out that he had a number of packages under his arm. I was sure it was the mate, and my suspicions were aroused, though I could scarcely tell what he was going to do. I pointed him out to Stanley, who was standing near the mainmast. “We will follow him, at all events,” he answered. As we got aft we saw him leaning over the quarter, and evidently engaged in hauling up the boat.

“Mr Kydd, what are you about?” exclaimed Stanley, seizing him by the arm. “Are you going to leave the brig?”

“I am captain, and who dares question me?” was the answer.

“You shall not deprive us of our only boat, at all events,” said Stanley. “If you leave the vessel, it must be on a raft, or swim for it.”

Kydd made no answer, but continued leaning over the side. We saw that he was dropping something into the boat. It seemed that he was about at that instant to throw himself over, when Stanley seized him and dragged him back. As he did so Kydd let go the painter, and before I could spring forward and seize it, the boat had drifted away from the vessel I would have jumped overboard and swam to her—I was on the point of doing so—when David, who had followed us, stopped me.

“Stay, Andrew!” he exclaimed. “We are surrounded by sharks. I saw three just before dark. You would be their prey in an instant.”

Meantime Kydd was struggling with Stanley, who however quickly overpowered him.

“I was not going to take the boat,” said Kydd, “whatever you may fancy. I am captain of this vessel, and I have a right to do what I like. It was through your fault that the boat got away, and you are answerable for that. Let me go, I say!”

Stanley released Kydd, who slunk away without uttering another word.

“This is not a time for disputes,” said my cousin. “We must be ready for resistance should the blacks come off to us; though I hope that Timbo is right in supposing that they will not venture from the shore till daylight.”

So short a time did the occurrence I have described take, that the ladies were scarcely aware of what was happening till it was over.

“What is the matter, Stanley?” asked Kate.

“Nothing to alarm you, my dear sister. I trust all will yet be well. There is every sign of the calm continuing; and perhaps in the morning, when the wind comes off the land, we may get the brig afloat. What do you say, Andrew?”

“I hope we may,” I answered, “as she has not struck very hard.”

“Had not you and Bella better go below, Kate, with Miss Rowley, and Leo and Natty will attend on you! We men must remain on deck to do what is necessary should any fresh emergency arise.”

Kate begged to remain also, but David, and the Rowleys joining him, persuaded the young ladies at length to retire to the cabin. Timbo followed them to light the cabin lamp, and I saw them, as I looked through the skylight, seated at the table, Kate having a large book before her, which I recognised as the old captain’s Bible. She was reading from it to her companions, the two boys and Bella listening with earnest looks, though Miss Rowley seemed to be too much alarmed to pay any attention. The young Irishman and the two Rowleys now exerted themselves as much as the rest of us in making preparations to defend the vessel.

“If there were boarding-nettings, we should find them useful,” said Stanley. “Mr Kydd, have you any on board?”

“No, sir,” was the answer. “We do not carry such things; and, for my part, I think all this preparation is useless. The blacks are not likely to come off to attack us, and if they do, we could very soon drive them back again.”

“If we are properly prepared we may,” said my cousin; and we all continued the work we had in hand.

Besides the firearms we had a few ship’s cutlasses; and at Timbo’s suggestion we fastened all the knives and axes we could find to some long spars, to use them as boarding-pikes. We ran lines also along the sides between the rigging to answer in a measure the purpose of boarding-nettings; and before the morning broke, we were as well prepared as we could expect to be to resist an attack. We were looking out for the rising sun, when I felt a light wind fan my cheek. I said nothing, but again I felt it blow stronger.

“We shall have the wind off the shore soon,” I cried out, “and we must be ready to trim sails to make the most of it.”

“Who is issuing orders on board this vessel?” I heard Kydd exclaim. “Mr Crawford, I am the man to say what is to be done.”

“If you will tell us what to do, we will take good care to do it,” Stanley said to me, in a low voice. “There is little use in listening to that fellow.”

The breeze came stronger and stronger; and by the time the first streaks of early dawn appeared over the land, there was a strongish breeze blowing, hot, and smelling of the arid sand and damp mangrove marshes.

“Faith, there is but little of the spices of Araby,” I heard Terence O’Brien observe to one of his friends.

“Those who know how to handle ropes, come and help me to trim the sails,” exclaimed Kydd. “Handspike, you are the only man under my orders. You go to the helm.”

We all set to work to trim the sails. Senhor Silva and his servant, who had hitherto not done much, now joined with a will. The canvas blew out, and the yards creaked and strained, but not an inch was the vessel moved. Kydd then ordered us to run fore and aft; but the light weight of a few people on board the stout brig produced no perceptible effect.

“Had we the boat, and could we carry an anchor out, we might get the brig off,” I observed to Stanley. “But, I fear, now it is hopeless, unless, indeed, we were to build a raft. With that we may do something, though there will be no slight risk in the undertaking.”

“If you think it can be done, we will do it,” said Stanley.

“Certainly,” I said, “it is our only chance.”

“Then it shall be done,” he exclaimed. “Mr Kydd, we wish to build a raft to carry out the anchor.”

Kydd was about to reply, but the captain’s look silenced him. All hands now set to work to collect all the spare spars and planks to be found. We got up also a number of small casks from below, in which palm-oil was to be stowed; and this assisted us greatly.

“Massa,” said Timbo, coming up to Stanley, “me t’ink it better to have two raft. Suppose no get de brig off, den we want dem to get away. Suppose de niggers come off, den what we do? We not stay here for eber.”

“A wise suggestion, Timbo,” said his master. “Crawford, will you undertake to build another raft? Mr Kydd seems busy with the one forward.”

Senhor Silva and his servant had, they told us, once assisted in building a raft to escape from a wreck, and were well able to lend a hand. While the rest of the party were collecting materials, I went aloft, anxious to see what the negroes on shore were about. The mist which usually hangs over the land at early dawn had by this time disappeared. With my glass I could distinguish the boat on the beach, and a number of people moving about. As, however, they did not seem preparing to launch her, I hoped that we might have time, at all events, to get our rafts ready; and quickly again descended with the satisfactory intelligence. Believing that there was but little prospect of getting the vessel off, we did not scruple to use the hatches and bulkheads, and, indeed, to rip off the inner planking. It would require, we saw, two rafts of considerable size to carry so many people with any degree of safety even in smooth water. Still, what other prospect had we of saving our lives? I had not for a moment allowed my mind to dwell more than I could help on our too possible fate; indeed, it would almost have unmanned me to contemplate the hardships to which the young ladies must inevitably be exposed even at the best. However, we were doing all that men could do under the circumstances, and that kept up our spirits. Kydd had become somewhat humbled by this time, and worked away like the rest of us, without taking any leading part; indeed, several of the rest of the party were far more expert in constructing the rafts than he was.

The water, as I said, remained smooth inside of us. We now set to work to launch our rafts. Kydd took charge of the one forward; I of the after one, at the construction of which I had assisted. Having cut away the bulwarks, we worked them over the side with the capstan bars, and then lowered them as gently as we could with ropes. Mine, I found, was somewhat the largest, and floated higher than the other out of the water. We had now to fit masts and sails to them. Fortunately there was a number of spare oars on board, so that our time was not occupied in making fresh ones. I however thought it well to have one long one to serve as a mast. The important business of provisioning our rafts had next to be attended to. We first got up four water-casks, which we secured in the centre of the raft. Round them we formed a strong railing, with a raised platform, on which a few of the party could sit well out of the water, which I feared, as soon as there was any sea, would wash over the main part.

I saw Kydd hurrying on with his preparations. “Now, Miss Rowley,” he said, “I hope you will entrust yourself to my charge. I ought to know better how to manage a raft than those landsmen,” and he cast a glance at me; “and I promise to take good care of you and your brothers.”

I did not hear what the young lady said, but directly afterwards I saw her being lowered down on to Kydd’s raft. Her brothers and the young Irishman followed.

“Come, Handspike; we want you,” sung out Kydd, standing up on the raft.

“No, no,” answered Handspike. “The landsmen, as you say, will want my help, and I must go aboard the other.”

While this was going on, I saw that Timbo had gone aloft. Presently he came gliding down by a backstay on deck. “Quick! quick! Massa Andrew,” he exclaimed. “No time to lose! De niggers coming off in de boat! If we stop and fight, dey take away de rafts. If we sail off, dey come aboard vessel, and stop and steal and get drunk, and we get away.”

Kydd overheard him. “Shove off!” he cried out to his companions. They obeyed him; and immediately the raft was clear of the vessel, he began to hoist his sail.

“Stop! stop!” I cried out. “Take more of our party on board! Senhor Silva and his servant will go with you!”

He paid no attention to my shouts, but continued hoisting his sail, though I saw the gentlemen on board were expostulating with him.

“We must all go, then, on the one raft,” I said. “I trust it will hold us, although it was treacherous of the mate to go away, leaving the party thus unequally divided.”

“I am sorry our friends are under no better charge,” said Stanley. “But, Andrew, we are ready to place ourselves under your and Handspike’s guidance. Timbo, too, will be of no slight service; so that we need not complain of what has occurred. We have no time to lose, though.”

Jack and Timbo now going on to the raft, assisted the rest of the party to descend. I was the last to leave the unfortunate brig. As I looked round I did not see Natty. “Where can he be?” I exclaimed. I sprang up the side. My young charge had fallen on the deck, and lay concealed from those on the raft by the bulwarks in the fore part of the vessel. “Hold on for a moment,” I cried out; “I will bring him down to you.” I lifted the poor boy up in my arms. A falling block or spar, I conjectured, had struck his head and stunned him. Had I not discovered his absence, how dreadful would have been his fate left alone on board the brig. To my great joy he soon recovered. Jack Handspike received him in his arms as I lowered him down, and I following, without delay we shoved off, and passed under the brig’s stern. The blacks could not see what was occurring, and would therefore, I hoped, not hurry themselves in coming off, so that we might have a considerable start of them should they pursue us. The raft was, as may be supposed, deeper in the water than I could have wished; at the same time, in that smooth sea, it was well capable of supporting us all. My hope was that we should be picked up by some cruiser or passing merchant vessel, and that we might not have long to remain on it. Still, the risk was a fearful one, but it seemed better than venturing to the shore after we had discovered the savage disposition of the natives. If they had murdered the seamen, there was no reason to suppose that we should escape the same treatment.

The mate’s raft, being lighter, had already got a considerable distance ahead. Our sail, however, was larger than his; and as we had hands enough to lower it quickly, we could venture to carry it longer in the increasing breeze. We got out the oars also, which contributed to urge the raft through the water. We thus, in a short time, had nearly overtaken the mate and his companions. Few of us spoke much. We were all too anxious for talking. Senhor Silva advised that we should alter our course, as soon as we had got out of sight of the brig, to the southward, hoping that we might be picked up by some vessel bound to Loando, the nearest European settlement on the coast. One thing was certain, that should the wind shift to the eastward we should have no choice, but should be compelled to run back for the land.

We had placed Kate and Bella on the most secure part of the raft, with the two boys, while we spread a piece of awning, which projected a little way over their heads, thus affording them some shelter from the hot rays of the sun. The water remained smooth, and was bright and clear; and could we have forgotten that it might at any moment be tossed into huge waves, there was little to give us a sense of danger. Jack Handspike was at the helm, and tended the sheets while the rest of us pulled; I kept an eye on the halliards, ready to let go should the breeze increase too much for our sail. We had brought a telescope, through which, every now and then, I took a glance astern to ascertain whether the negroes had reached the brig. We were gradually getting to a distance from her, so that our white sails would have looked almost like specks on the ocean, unless seen through a spy-glass, and those that remained on board we hoped the savages would not know how to use. Presently I saw the bright flash of a gun, and, a few seconds after, the sound came booming across the water; then, once more looking through the glass, I caught sight of several dark objects moving above the bulwarks. There was no doubt that the blacks must have reached the vessel; but whether or not they had discovered us remained uncertain. All we could do was to use our best exertions in getting away from them, by rowing as hard as we could and keeping our sails spread to the breeze. By this time we had come abreast of the other raft. I hailed her and told what I had seen.

“Never fear,” cried out Kydd. “We will drive them back if they do come.”

He exhibited several muskets which he had placed on his raft. We also had taken a couple, and a small quantity of ammunition.

We had got some little way ahead of the other raft, when I proposed hauling down the sail, not to run away from her. I was about to do so, when the wind, which had hitherto been getting somewhat lighter, fell altogether, and we were left on a perfect sea of glass, the other raft being about a quarter of a mile away from us. The heat was very great; and as we had been rowing all day, we felt scarcely capable of further exertion. We had also, we hoped, got beyond the reach of the negroes, as it was not likely they would follow us so far out to sea. Timbo asserted that they were black fellows from the interior, as he did not think the coast natives would have murdered the crew. As we had brought an ample supply of provisions, we took our meals regularly. Timbo had provided a small charcoal stove, with which we could boil water, and make our tea and coffee—a great luxury under the circumstances. We had, however, to economise our fuel, of which there was but a small quantity. Considering all things, our spirits rose wonderfully; and I believe every one of us hoped before long to fall in with a vessel and be taken on board.

“Our friends on the other raft seem to be making themselves merry,” observed Stanley. “Listen. They are singing!”

So indeed they were. The sound of their voices, though so far off, reached us across the smooth water. We had brought some cloaks, with which we wrapped the young ladies up; and they lay down on the platform I have described, under the awning, to sleep, the remainder of us dividing ourselves into watches. The watch below, as we called it, placed themselves on the other side of the platform, to seek such rest as could be found. I know, when it was my turn to lie down, I slept as soundly as I had ever done in my life. The two boys lay down close together; but during the night I heard poor Natty sobbing. He had awoke, it seemed, and recollected his loss. It was sad to hear him in the still silence of the night out there on the ocean. Poor fellow! he at length sobbed himself to sleep again.

I woke up, feeling a gentle moving of the raft, and, rising to my feet, found that the night wind had again come off the shore, though it seemed rather more to the northward than before. We again hoisted the sail, as we were not far enough out to be in the track of any traders.

The night at length came to an end; and when the dawn once more broke, we found the same mist as on the two previous mornings hanging over the ocean. The young ladies and the boy were still sleeping. We looked round, but could nowhere discover our companions. That was, however, what might be expected, as the mist greatly circumscribed our view. I was standing by Timbo’s side.

“I fear dis calm weader not last much longer,” he observed to me. “I hope we soon get aboard ship; for if it come on to blow, den we in bad way.”

“We must pray to Heaven to protect us,” I said.

“Yes, Massa Andrew. If Heaben no protect us, den it be bery, bery bad indeed.”

“We must not, however, alarm the young ladies,” I observed; “so do not express your fears, but let us pray that a vessel may be sent to relieve us. Now, I think we had better prepare breakfast. It will cheer our spirits.”

Soon after this Kate and little Bella appeared from under their awning.

“My father would have had prayers, I think,” said Natty to me, in a low voice.

“He would, I am sure; and so will we,” I answered; and before going to our meal, we offered up a prayer to Heaven for our protection, and Kate read a chapter from her Bible, which she had not forgotten to bring.

The hours after this sped slowly on. Once more the mist lifted. We looked round for the raft. It was nowhere to be seen.

“I trust no accident has happened to it,” said Stanley. “It would be a sad fate for the Rowleys and that pretty girl.”

I could not suppose this, and yet I could not account for its disappearance should Kydd have continued steering the course we had agreed on. On sweeping the horizon with my glass, I made out a small sail in the distance to the southward. It was, however, so far off, that, in consequence of the slight mist which still remained, I could not be certain whether it was the topgallant sail of some ship rising above the water or the bow-sail of the raft. I gave the glass to Jack Handspike.

“To my mind it is the raft,” he said. “The lighter sails of a large vessel would not look so clear as that does.”

If Jack was right, there could be no doubt that the mate had purposely altered his course for the sake of getting away from us. I could not help thinking that he was fully capable of such treachery. Soon after this, again sweeping the horizon with the glass, my eye fell on the topsails of a vessel far away to the north-west. I pointed it out to Jack, and both he and Timbo were of opinion that she was standing toward us on a wind, and that if we continued running as we were doing, she would before long be up with us.

Chapter Three.

On Board the Schooner.

Our spirits, which had naturally been at a low ebb, were greatly cheered by the sight of the strange sail. She had evidently a strong breeze with her, stronger than we should like when it reached us, as it probably would do before long. Already, indeed, it had freshened, and the sea had got up considerably. This made us more than ever anxious to be seen and taken on board. Gradually her topsails rose above the horizon. We watched her anxiously. Although we were not seen, Timbo and Leo could not resist an impulse to stand up and wave towards the stranger. She was standing steadily to the southward, gradually edging in towards the land. Our hopes increased of cutting her off. We made her out to be a large topsail schooner—a rakish-looking craft. Nearer and nearer she drew. Still she came on so fast that we began to fear that we should not get sufficiently to the westward to be seen, for though we could make her out clearly, and could now see her hull, we were so low in the water, that unless those on board were keeping a bright look-out, they might easily pass us.

“What do you think, Timbo? Shall we get up with her?” asked Stanley.

“Not quite sure, massa. If dey look dis way, den dey see us; but if dey not look dis way, den dey pass to westward one mile or perhaps two mile.”

At length Jack Handspike gave a loud shout. The schooner was coming up to the wind. Her foretopsail was thrown aback, and she lay hove-to. “We are seen! We are seen!” we exclaimed, one after the other. Presently a boat was lowered; she came gliding over the water towards us. As she approached we saw that she had a crew of dark, swarthy men, evidently not English. They hailed us in a foreign language. Senhor Silva replied, and a short conversation ensued.

“They are my countrymen,” he said, for he spoke English well. “The schooner is, I understand, a Portuguese man-of-war, and you will be kindly treated on board.”

“We are indeed fortunate,” said Stanley.

“Oh! say rather that God has been very merciful to us,” said Kate, looking out towards the beautiful vessel which rose and fell on the fast increasing seas at no great distance from us.

“The officer desires to know whether you would like to be towed on board or would prefer getting into the boat,” said Senhor Silva.

I was naturally anxious to preserve the raft, and begged that we might be towed; but Stanley requested that his sisters and the boys, at all events, should be taken into the boat. Senhor Silva joined them. We now proceeded rapidly towards the vessel. I saw Timbo and Jack eyeing her narrowly.

“She seems to be a fine man-of-war schooner,” I observed, “and a craft of which the slavers must have no little dread. We thought the Osprey a clipper, but yonder schooner, I suspect, could easily have walked round her.”

“Not know ’xactly,” observed Timbo. “She may be man-of-war schooner, but she very like some slavers I have seen.”

“Senhor Silva surely must know,” I observed, “and he told us positively that she was a man-of-war.”

When we got near the schooner the boat cast-off, Senhor Silva saying that he would go on board, and send her back for us.

“I wish I had gone with them,” observed Stanley on hearing this. “I do not like their appearing on board a strange vessel without David or me to protect them.”

“Oh, but Leo will do that,” said David. “He is quite escort enough for them till we can get alongside.”

As we approached still nearer the schooner we hauled down our sail. In a short time the boat returned and towed us alongside. The crew of the stranger were looking out eagerly at us over the bulwarks, and ropes were now thrown to assist us in getting on deck. An officer stood at the gangway and politely welcomed Stanley, Senhor Silva who stood by interpreting for him. Kate was seated on a chair, with Bella by her side.

“Oh, they are very kind and polite,” she said to her brother as soon as he went up to her. “This is indeed a fine man-of-war.”

She was certainly a remarkably fine vessel, and I saw that she mounted six broadside guns and a long gun forward; but as I had not been on board many English men-of-war, and never any foreigners, I was not well able to judge of her. She had a numerous crew, of every colour and shade, from the fair European down to the dark tint of the darkest African. Our stores and the various articles we brought on the raft were now hoisted on board, and the structure which had cost us so much pains to build was cast adrift. The officers, I observed, all wore jackets and straw caps, which I fancied was not usual for officers of men-of-war; but probably on account of the heat of the climate the usual custom was departed from. Senhor Silva and the captain of the schooner were walking up and down the deck conversing eagerly. At length Senhor Silva stopped as he was passing me, and said, “I have found an old friend in the captain of the Andorinha (the Sea Swallow), and we are happy to meet each other again. He begs that you and our other friends will consider yourselves as welcome and honoured guests on board. I have told him that we have lost sight of the other raft, and he promises to keep a look-out for her. He has already given directions to have cabins prepared for you, and begs that you will make yourself as thoroughly at home as possible.”

This was indeed satisfactory news. Timbo, Jack, and Ramaon were sent forward, where they were well received by the crew; for although Jack could not make himself understood, nor understand what was said, Ramaon was always ready to interpret for him. The wind, which had been for some time increasing, now blew half a gale, and we had great reason to be thankful that we had got on board so fine a craft. The captain insisted on giving up his cabin to Kate and Bella, and Stanley and David had another prepared close to them, while a third was devoted to the accommodation of Senhor Silva and I, the two boys being placed in another rather more forward. Not only were we comfortably accommodated, but a handsome dinner was, soon after we got on board, placed on the table. The captain announced himself as Senhor Marques da Costa. He was very polite, and a good-looking man, though somewhat dark even for a Portuguese. This, I concluded, arose from having been a long time on the coast. He understood but little English, so we had to carry on our conversation chiefly through our friend Senhor Silva. He, however, never seemed tired of interpreting for us. When the captain heard that we wished to proceed to the Cape, he expressed his regret that his duties required him to remain on the coast. He could not, he said, indeed promise to land us, for some little time, at Loando, but he begged to assure us that we were heartily welcome on board. Several of the officers sang very well, and after dinner guitars were produced, and they sang numbers of their national songs: somewhat die-away sort of melodies I thought them, but Kate said they were very pretty, and expressed a wish to learn the guitar. Directly one of the officers undertook to instruct her, and presented her with a handsome instrument, which he said he hoped she would keep in remembrance of her visit to the Andorinha. The time thus passed very pleasantly on board. Still having some doubts from what Timbo had said about the vessel, I asked Jack, whom I met the next morning, what he thought of her.

“Well, sir,” he answered, “the people seem a free-and-easy set, rather fond of gambling—but that’s the way with these foreigners; and most of them wear long ugly knives stuck in their belts, which is not the fashion with English seamen; but these Portuguese are odd fellows, and that is how I accounts for it.”

With Timbo I had no opportunity for some time of speaking. Next morning I saw that the Portuguese flag was flying from the schooner’s peak, while a pennant waved from her mast-head. Certainly the officers did their best to amuse their fair guests and us. Next day, after dinner, some of the men were called aft to dance their national dances, but I can’t say much for them. I saw that one or two of the men were always aloft on the look-out, and while the crew were engaged as I have before described, one of the look-outs gave a shout from aloft, and presently two of the officers went up the rigging with glasses at their backs. I saw them looking eagerly to the southward. Presently they returned on deck and reported their observations to the captain. The breeze, which had before been fresh, had by degrees been falling, and now failing us altogether, the schooner lay becalmed with her sails flapping against the masts. From this I concluded that a sail had been sighted—a slaver possibly. The officers continued talking together, while one of them, who had gone aloft, remained there, his eye constantly fixed in the direction in which I supposed he had seen the stranger. I was about to go aloft with my spy-glass, when Senhor Silva came on deck.

“The captain says that passengers going up the rigging will interfere with the duty of the ship,” he observed; “you must remain on deck.”

I thought this was very odd, but of course obeyed. The schooner lay without moving on the calm ocean. Some time passed. The officers continued pacing the deck, looking even more anxious, I fancied, than before. At length, as I swept the horizon with my telescope, I observed a white sail rising above it. I looked again, and made out the royals and part of the topgallant-sails of a square-rigged vessel. I shut up my glass quickly, however, as I saw the captain looking somewhat angrily towards me.

“You had better go below,” said Senhor Silva, coming up to me. “Ask no questions, and do not say what you have seen. It will be better for you to do as I advise, and before long I will explain matters to you.”

As I had no inclination to go below, I begged to be excused doing so; indeed, I was anxious to learn the character of the stranger, and to observe what was going forward.

“Well, do as you like,” said Senhor Silva; “but I tell you your presence on deck may possibly annoy our friends.”

The stranger approached rapidly, bringing up the breeze with her. Presently the captain issued some orders to his crew, and a number of them went aloft with buckets of water, with which they drenched the upper sails. In a short time some cat’s-paws began to play over the ocean, our royals swelled out to the breeze, and the helm being put up, we stood away to the northward. Still the vessel in the south-west, having far more wind, quickly overhauled us. Our lower sails were now wetted, and every inch of canvas the schooner could carry was packed on her. I soon discovered that, instead of pursuing, we were pursued by the stranger. This, if the schooner we were aboard was a man-of-war, seemed unaccountable. Portugal was at peace, so I fancied, with all the world; besides which, the stranger did not appear very much larger than the schooner—a craft which, if she was of the character Senhor Silva had asserted, was not likely to run away. In a short time I made out the stranger to be a brig with taunt masts and square yards—remarkably like a man-of-war. As she drew nearer I saw, to my astonishment, the glorious old flag of England waving from her peak. I looked and looked again. I could not be mistaken. The schooner, now beginning to feel the wind, made rapid way through the water; which, stirred up into wavelets, hissed and bubbled under her bows as her stem clove a passage through it. Faster and faster we went, as the breeze, which had now overtaken us, increased, and, filling our sails, made the yards and masts crack and crack again. The countenances of the officers, as they saw the speed at which we were going, brightened considerably, and I saw them smiling as they gazed astern at our pursuer. Presently a puff of smoke issued from the bows of the brig, and the sound of a gun was heard across the ocean. Another and another followed. The Portuguese only laughed, and made mocking gestures towards the brig. I was glad that Kate and her brothers were below, for they naturally would have been anxious at seeing what was going forward. The Andorinha was undoubtedly a fast craft, and there seemed little probability, if the breeze continued, of the brig overhauling us. That she was a British man-of-war, I had no longer any doubt. What then could be the schooner? It was now late in the day, and I saw that there was every probability of her escaping. Still, unless she was a slaver, I could not account for the anxiety of her crew to avoid communication with the British man-of-war. The Portuguese crew made every effort to keep ahead, by throwing water on the sails as soon as they dried. Sails were also rigged close down to the water on either side, and several of the crew went below with shot, which they slung in hammocks in the hold, under the idea, I believe, that their weight, as the vessel pitched into the seas, would urge her forward. Two of the officers were at the helm steering her, every now and then exchanging remarks as to the best course to be pursued. The brig, I saw, was also doing her utmost to come up with us, and had also rigged out studdingsails on either side, with lighter sails above the royals, often called sky-scrapers, as well as sails hanging from the lower studding-sail booms. The Portuguese colours were flying at the peak of the schooner, but I observed that the pennants had been hauled down. Again the brig fired, but without any other effect than making the captain utter a low scornful laugh, and drawing from the crew gestures of contempt. When I first saw the brig I had hopes that we should be able to get aboard her; for, polite as Senhor Silva and the Portuguese captain were, I could not help wishing, for my fair cousins’ sakes at all events, that we were in better company.

Night was drawing on. It threatened to be dark, for there was no moon, and I saw the mist rising which so often hangs over the water in those latitudes, near the coast. Still, astern I could distinguish the brig standing on in our wake with all the sail she had hitherto carried, in spite of the still increasing breeze. The Portuguese captain and his officers stood carefully watching their spars strained to the utmost by the almost cracking canvas, every now and then glancing astern at their pursuer. I kept my eye fixed on her. Now it seemed to me that she was again coming up with us. My hopes revived that she would bring the schooner to, and settle the doubts as to her character. As I was looking at her, I saw what looked like a vast cloud floating away from her mast-head. Some of the Portuguese saw it too, and cheered loudly. Her topgallant-sails, if not her topsails, had been blown away, probably with their respective masts; but the thickening gloom prevented us seeing the exact nature of the damage she had received. The Portuguese no longer feared being overtaken, but still they continued standing on as before. A few minutes afterwards we altogether lost sight of the brig. The mist, as I expected, came on, and at length the steward announcing supper, being very hungry, I went below to partake of it. The Portuguese captain and Senhor Silva were in very good spirits, and courteous as usual. I had said nothing about the brig, and was about to mention her appearance when Senhor Silva stopped me.

“There is no use talking about that matter, Mr Crawford,” he observed. “The young ladies will not be interested by it, and—you understand me—I will explain matters by-and-by.”

Of course after this I said nothing, and we all parted, when we retired to our berths, very good friends. The next day no sail was in sight. My cousins were on deck, and the officers treated them with the same attention as at first. With Timbo I had not exchanged words, but I got an opportunity at last of speaking to Jack Handspike without being observed. I asked him if he had seen the man-of-war brig, and what he thought of the matter.

“Yes, I did see her, and a rum thing I thought it for another man-of-war of a friendly nation to run away from her. To tell you the truth, Mr Crawford, I have a notion that this here craft—”

What he was going to say I could not tell, for at that moment one of the Portuguese officers passing, took my arm, and led me to where Senhor Silva was standing.

“Our friends do not like to see you talking to your people,” he observed in an undertone. “Remember they do not know who we are, and they have some suspicion as to our character.”

I thought the excuse a poor one, but yet was unwilling to give any offence, and therefore refrained from again addressing either Jack or the black.

For two days the schooner continued out of sight of land; but the third morning when I came on deck I found that she had been headed in towards it, and as soon as the sea-breeze commenced she ran in under all sail towards the mouth of a river which opened out ahead of us. On either side were dense woods of mangroves, appearing to grow directly out of the water, while on our starboard hand was a glittering sandbank, and stretching across the river appeared a line of white breakers, which I fancied must completely bar our ingress. David came on deck at that moment. I pointed them out to him. “Surely we cannot be going in there?” he said. Just then Senhor Silva came up to us and said the captain begged that we and all idlers would go below, as we were about to cross the bar, and that as occasionally the seas broke on board in so doing, it might be dangerous to remain on deck. We could but obey. What could take us into the river? I wondered. Presently I felt the vessel rise to a sea, then she pitched into it, then rose again, and in a few minutes she was gliding on in smooth water. I thought we must be inside the river, but again I felt her rise and once more pitch two or three times, then again she glided on as before. From this I knew that we must have passed over two bars, such as are frequently found at the mouths of the rivers on the west coast of Africa. “What can the vessel be about?” said David. I could not enlighten him; and at length, wishing to satisfy our curiosity, we made our way on deck. We were running up the river, with thick woods on either side. It had the appearance of a long lake, for we had already lost sight of the sea, though I knew by the current in which direction it was. In a short time we caught sight of a number of low cottages and sheds standing in a cleared space at a little distance from the banks. The crew sprang aloft and furled sails, and in a few minutes the schooner was brought to an anchor. Several canoes now came alongside, and in one of them was a fat black fellow with a cocked hat and red jacket, and a piece of stuff which looked very like an old flannel petticoat fastened round his waist. The captain bowed very politely to him, as did his officers, and he returned the salute in the same fashion. I asked Senhor Silva who he was?

“Oh, he is King Mungo,” he said; “a very important person in these regions. The schooner has come here on a diplomatic mission, and though he is an ugly-looking savage, we must treat him with every respect.”

After the first greetings were over the captain ushered King Mungo and three of his sable attendants, dressed in old nankeen jackets and tarry trousers, into the cabin. Kate’s astonishment was naturally very great when she saw them. His majesty bowed to her with profound respect; and I saw him afterwards, whenever he had the opportunity, casting glances of admiration at her. Senhor Silva accounted to Captain Hyslop, as he had done to me, for our entering the river.

“If we are to wait any time, I should like to go ashore and see the nature of the country,” said Stanley. “We shall probably be able to get a little sport.”

Senhor Silva hesitated, and then addressed the Portuguese captain. “King Mungo declines to guarantee your safety, and without that it would be madness to go into the interior,” he answered.

“But we can keep along the banks of the river, and we may find some sport there,” said Stanley.

Again Senhor Silva brought forward many reasons for this being inadvisable. “To say the truth,” he added, “as I before explained to our young friend here, my countrymen do not altogether trust us, and it would not be wise to offend them.”

This answer did not satisfy Stanley, but he made no remark. Wine and spirits were now placed on the table. His majesty, I observed, after taking a glass or two of the former, applied himself with warm interest to the latter beverage, which soon produced a visible effect. His eyes rolled, and he began to talk away in a thick, husky voice. Senhor Silva again whispered a few words to Stanley, who thereon recommended Kate and Bella to retire to their cabin. It now appeared to me that the captain and King Mungo were warmly engaged in bargaining, judging by their gestures and way of speaking. The captain pressed more spirits on his guest. He would, it seemed, have continued drinking till he was unable to move, had not one of his attendants whispered in his ear, and at length snatched the glass out of his hand. The bargaining now once more went on, and seemed to be concluded to the satisfaction of both parties. At length his majesty rose, and supported by his attendants, made his way on deck, whence he was lowered in no very dignified state into his canoe. He was followed on shore by the captain and two of his officers, and a boat’s crew well-armed. I observed that the schooner’s guns were run over to the side nearest the village, which they thus completely commanded. As he was shoving off Stanley begged that he and I might be allowed to accompany him. David evidently wished to go, but told me that he would remain for the protection of his sisters.

“I do not quite like the look of things,” he said; “and take care that you and my brother do not go far from the shore.”

I said I would be cautious, and persuade Stanley to follow his advice. Scarcely had we landed when there appeared, coming through the woods, a long line of men, women, and children, walking one behind the other. As they drew nearer I saw that they were bound together with rough ropes fastened tightly to their necks by collars. At intervals at their sides walked several savage-looking blacks, with muskets on their shoulders and thick whips in their hands. There were a dozen or more huts built of bamboo, the walls and roofs covered with the leaves of the palm-tree. Some were of good size, from twenty to fifty feet in length, and of considerable breadth. At the further end of the village was another, three or four times the size of the largest. Stanley and I made our way towards it, but the disagreeable odour which proceeded from it as we approached almost drove us back. We persevered, however, and on looking through the door our indignation was excited to find that it was full of human beings—a dense mass, packed almost as closely as they could exist. They were sitting down in rows, and on a nearer examination we discovered, to our horror, that they were secured to long bars which ran across the building. Below were rough benches on which they might sit, but they could only move a foot or two to the right hand or the left. There were men, women, and children. Many of the poor little creatures were crying bitterly, while their mothers were moaning and weeping, as they tried to comfort them. Some of the men were trying to sing, as if to show indifference to their sufferings, but the greater number sat supporting their heads on their knees, with looks expressive of despair. Outside were several savage-looking negroes armed with muskets, who every now and then took glances through openings in the side into the interior, to observe, apparently, if any of the prisoners were trying to escape.

“Why, these poor beings must be slaves; and, Andrew, the schooner must be a slaver,” exclaimed my cousin.

“There is no doubt about the matter,” I answered. “I have for some time suspected it; nay, I was almost certain of the fact when she ran away from the English man-of-war. What do you advise, Stanley?”

“That we leave her immediately,” he answered.

“But where are we to go?” I asked.

“Anywhere, rather than remain on board so abominable a craft,” he replied.

“That may be very difficult, if not impossible,” I remarked. “We cannot leave her in this place, and I am afraid that the captain would not venture near any English settlement to land us.”

“We must try him, however,” he said. “We must bribe him. I would pay any amount I can command to be quit of her.”

We agreed to keep Kate in ignorance as long as possible. Just then two white men appeared on horseback, swarthy, ill-looking fellows, one tall and thin, and the other short and paunchy, both dressed alike in wide-brimmed straw hats and nankeen jackets and trousers. We found that they were the principal slave-dealers on the coast, having, as we afterwards discovered, several barracoons at numerous other stations, and parties constantly engaged in capturing and purchasing slaves. The party of slaves who had just arrived were made to halt, and sit down on the ground under the shade of the barracoons. After this several men opened the front of the building, and led out the slaves, linking them together as the others had been. In this state they were marched down to the water’s edge, where two dozen or more large canoes had collected. As soon as these were filled they pulled away towards the schooner. I counted the blacks as they passed, and at least two hundred human beings, including several small children, were carried on board the vessel. The captain of the slaver touched me on the shoulder and pointed to the boat, signifying that we were to return on board. We of course obeyed—indeed, what else could we do!—though we intended to beg Senhor Silva to request him to land us at the nearest European settlement, either Portuguese or French, if he would not take us to an English one, which, of course, we could scarcely expect him to do.

As soon as we reached the vessel the anchor was hove up, and, towed by several boats and canoes, she proceeded down towards the bar. We found our friends in great agitation on board on discovering the character of the vessel. Kate was almost in tears.

“Poor creatures! Where are they going to carry them to in that dark hold? Why, there is scarcely room I should think for one hundred, instead of the number who have been placed below.”

“They are but a small portion, I fear, of his intended cargo,” I answered. “From what I have heard, many more than those who have already been brought on board will be stowed away. A large vessel like this will carry between five and six hundred human beings. I trust, however, that the captain is more humane, and will be content with those he has already obtained.”

“I wish we could manage to let them go again,” said Leo. “What right have people to carry off their fellow-creatures, even though they are blacks. I am sure they did not come willingly, for I saw many of them crying, and refusing, till they were beaten, to go down into the hold.”

“If you could think of a plan, I would help you,” said Natty. “I wish we could manage to restore them to their friends and to their native villages.”

I was pleased to see this feeling in the boys, although it was hopeless; for, unless captured by a cruiser, the poor blacks were not likely ever again to visit their native land, or to set foot on shore until they had reached the coast of Brazil. I had seen something of the slave-trade on my former visits to Africa, and was well acquainted with the whole system.

When crossing the bar, we were all as before ordered below. The wind was blowing off the land, and with a strong breeze we dashed through the breakers. I felt by the way the vessel pitched that they were of some height, and I confess I was glad when at length I found that she was well outside, and once more gliding through the waters of the Atlantic. Stanley now addressed Senhor Silva, and begged him to urge the captain to land us at the nearest European settlement.

“I will do what I can,” was the answer; “but I am sorry to tell you that, as we have all now been let into too many of his secrets, he purposes carrying us across to the Brazils.”

This information made Stanley very indignant.

“My friend,” said Senhor Silva, “there is no use exhibiting any anger; but if you will leave matters in my hands I will do the best I can for you.”

I can scarcely describe the horror and annoyance we all felt on finding out the character of the vessel we were on board. During all hours of the day and night, but especially at night, the cries and groans of the unfortunate slaves reached our ears. Once my curiosity induced me to look into the hold, but the horrible odour which proceeded from it, and the sight of those upturned faces, expressive of suffering and despair, prevented me ever again desiring to witness the sight.

Once more we were close in with the land. Senhor Silva came to us in the cabin. “I am glad to say that I have made arrangements with the captain to land you,” he said. “There is another barracoon near this, from whence more slaves are to be brought off, and if you wish at once to go on shore you can be conveyed there. A heavy surf is however setting on the beach, and I am afraid that there is some risk. It is a wild place, too, and you will probably have many hardships to endure before you can reach any European settlement.”

“Oh, we would go through anything, so as to get out of this vessel!” exclaimed Kate. The same sentiment was echoed by the rest of us.

“I fully sympathise with you,” said Senhor Silva, “and will inform the captain of your determination. I will lose no time, lest he should change his mind. He knows that I hate this traffic in which he is engaged as much as you do.”

We at once prepared to quit the slaver, and on going on deck found the boat alongside. The captain and his officers were collected at the gangway to bid us farewell, but we could with difficulty restrain our feelings of abhorrence in spite of the politeness with which they treated us. Notwithstanding the unprepossessing appearance of the shore, we thankfully hurried into the boat. Timbo and Jack followed us. Ramaon stood on the deck. His master called to him. He replied in Portuguese.

“The scoundrel!” said Senhor Silva. “He has been tempted to turn slaver, and tells me he has entered aboard the vessel as a seaman. I am well rid of him then.”

I was glad to hear these expressions from our friend, because I was afraid, from his intimacy with the slave captain, that he himself was engaged in the traffic. The slaver remained hove-to while we pulled towards the shore. As I saw the heavy surf breaking ahead of us, I felt great anxiety for what might occur. The boat, however, was a large one, and the coxswain was an old seaman, who seemed calm and collected as he stood up and surveyed the breakers through which we had to pass. The crew kept their eyes fixed on him as they pulled on. Now we rose to the summit of a sea; now they stopped rowing; now again they urged the boat forward, bending to their oars with might and main. On we dashed. The waters foamed on either side. A huge sea came rolling up astern. Once more we stopped and allowed it to break ahead of us. Again the helmsman urged the crew to pull away. We dashed on, and the next instant rushed up on the sandy shore. Some twenty or more blacks were there to receive us, and dashing into the water, they seized the boat and dragged her up, and before another sea broke we were high up on the beach. The crew assisted us to run forward, Stanley helping Kate, while David took little Bella in his arms, and sprang over the bows on to the sand. The rest of us followed, Jack catching hold of Natty and Timbo of Leo, and carrying them up out of reach of the water. I saw Senhor Silva putting some money into the hands of the coxswain. “Now,” he said, “we are on shore, we must consult what is next to be done.” Our clothing, and the small amount of articles we had saved from the wreck, together with numerous packages brought by Senhor Silva, were next handed out and piled together high up on the beach. A little way off we saw a few huts and a large barracoon, similar to those on the banks of the river from which the slaves had been embarked. On the shore were hauled up a number of canoes. Scarcely had we landed when a troop of slaves were seen issuing from the barracoon, and led by their captors down to the beach. Several were put on board the boat, which at once shoved off and pulled for the schooner. The canoes were now launched, and in each a dozen or more negroes were embarked. The boat passed through the surf in safety; then one canoe followed, then another. The third had scarcely left the shore when a huge sea came rolling in. We trembled for the unhappy beings on board. Those who were paddling her must have seen their danger; but their only hope of escape was to paddle on. It was vain, however. The sea struck her, and in an instant over she went, and all those on board were thrown into the raging surf. The crew, accustomed to the water, struck out for their lives, swimming to the nearest canoe ahead; but the unfortunate slaves, unable to swim, were quickly engulfed. Some cried out for help; but others sank without a struggle, perhaps glad thus to terminate their miseries. Out of all those on board the canoe, which must have contained some twenty human beings, only three or four escaped. One reached the shore; the others were taken on board by the canoes ahead. Notwithstanding this the remainder shoved off, and passing through the surf, put their cargoes on board. They then returned, and the schooner, letting draw her head sheets, stood out to sea.

Chapter Four.

Our Journey Inland.

We sat on the shore under the shade of some tall trees on the outskirts of the forest, which came down in an apparently impenetrable mass nearly to the coast. Our eyes were turned towards the slave-schooner, which now, under all sail, was standing on, with her freight of living merchandise, at a distance from the shore. We were thankful to be out of her; yet our position was a trying one. We could not tell what dangers and difficulties were before us. In front was the dark rolling sea, which broke in masses of foam at our feet; behind us was the thick forest, through which on one hand a creek had forced its way into the ocean, though its mouth was impassable for boats on account of a sandbank which ran across it; while on the other side was a clear space, in which stood the barracoons and huts of the native slave-dealers. The blacks had taken little notice of us, leaving us to our own devices, probably, till we might be compelled to appeal to them for assistance. Close to us were piled up the articles we had saved from the wreck, as well as others which Senhor Silva had purchased from the captain for his own and our use.

We had been silent for some minutes. “What is to be done, Stanley?” said David at length. “Are we to proceed to the north, or south; and how are we to travel? We cannot carry all those things, that is certain.”

“It must depend on whereabouts we are, the direction in which we proceed,” answered Stanley. “The slave captain took good care to keep us in the dark as to that point; but perhaps Senhor Silva can inform us.”

“Indeed, my friend, I am sorry to say I cannot,” said the Portuguese. “It is only now that I breathe freely, and can assure you that although I appeared on friendly terms with the captain of yonder vessel, I hate the work in which he is engaged as much as you do; and though by a heavy bribe I induced him to land us, he would not tell me where he purposed putting us on shore, lest we might reach some settlement, and give notice of his being on the coast before he can leave it altogether for South America. Though he has already four hundred slaves on board, he will probably, if he can find them, take two or three hundred more before he considers he has his full cargo.”

“Dreadful!” exclaimed Kate. “I would rather go through any dangers on shore than have remained longer on board that terrible vessel.”

“So would I,” said Bella. “I fancy I still hear the cries of those poor little black children.” Timbo and Jack shook their fists at the vessel.

“Oh yes; Natty and I often talked of how we could set them free!” exclaimed Leo; “and only wished that the English man-of-war would come and catch them. If I become a sailor, I would rather be engaged in hunting slavers and liberating the poor blacks than in fighting Frenchmen, or any other enemies.”

“One thing I would advise is, that we leave this coast and proceed to the highlands in the interior,” observed Senhor Silva. “You saw that range of blue mountains as we approached the shore, though they are now hidden by the trees? They form the Serra do Crystal. They are but thinly inhabited, and though travelling along them will be rougher work than on the plains, yet we shall enjoy fresh breezes and a more healthy climate than down below.”

“To the mountains, then, in the first place let us proceed,” said Stanley, springing to his feet. “After that we can decide which way to take; but, for my own part, I should prefer moving towards the south. We shall be going homewards, and may be better able to send a message to our friends at the Cape. It is a long distance, but we shall, no doubt, hear from them if we have patience, and, in the meantime, maintain ourselves in the most healthy region we can find. There is, at all events, no lack of game, and we shall probably be able to obtain fruit and vegetables sufficient for our wants.”

“An excellent plan!” exclaimed David. “We shall thus be able to add largely to our knowledge of natural history; and if Kate and Bella do not object to live a savage life for so many months, I think we can make our stay not only satisfactory, but in many respects delightful.”

“I am glad to do whatever you wish, my brothers,” said Kate; “and I think I shall enjoy the life you propose very much. I wish I had a few more books to teach Bella from; but we must make the most of those we have: and I will undertake to cook for you and tend the house, for I suppose you do not intend living out in the woods all the time?”

“Oh no, no,” said David. “Wherever we settle to remain we must at once build a house, where you and Bella can live in comfort, and where we can stow our stores and collections of natural history.”

Of course I agreed to my cousin’s plan; and, indeed, I thought it, under all circumstances, the most advisable. Even should we reach one of the Portuguese settlements, we might not be able to find a vessel to carry us to the Cape; besides which, they are mostly unhealthy, and it would be far better travelling along the mountains than having to spend any length of time at one of them. I was afraid, however, that Senhor Silva would not so readily agree to this plan, as he might be anxious to reach Loando. I was relieved when I heard him say—

“Well, my friends, I approve of your proposal; but we must not wait here an hour longer than is necessary. At night we shall find unhealthy vapours rise from yonder river, and the sooner, therefore, we get away from its banks the better.”

“But we have no horses or waggons to carry our goods,” I observed, looking at the pile of property before me. “Even if each of us were to take a heavy package, we could not carry it.”

“I will see to that,” said Senhor Silva. “I think I can secure the services of some of those negroes, although they may not be willing to venture far into the country. Mr Crawford, will you come with me, and we will see what can be done?”

I started up with my gun in my hand, for I did not like the appearance of the black savages. I remembered the way the poor crew of the Osprey had been treated, and thought it possible, if we were taken unawares, that we might meet the same fate.

“The case is very different here,” said Senhor Silva in reply to my remark as we walked along. “Those poor men fell victims to the treachery not so much of the blacks, as of some of the white slavers who had but a short time before curried off a number of their kindred and friends. I heard the story on board the schooner. They had enticed them down to the coast on pretence of trading, and then surrounding them, had captured some forty or fifty of their number, and carried them off on board their ship. Those who had escaped, very naturally vowed vengeance against the first white men they might meet, of course not distinguishing between English and Portuguese. Thus the unfortunate crew of the brig became their victims. They would, had we landed before they had had time to ask questions, very probably have put us all to death. We have had, indeed, a providential escape.”

We found that the slave-dealers and most of their followers had already taken their departure—probably to avoid rendering us any assistance. They had only come down to the coast to embark their captives, and had gone back again, my companion supposed, to obtain a fresh supply. We found, however, about a dozen men, who came out when Senhor Silva called them in their own language. When he assured them that we were friends, and that we would treat them honestly, they agreed, without hesitation, to act as our bearers as far as the Crystal Mountains. Beyond them they declined going, saying that they had enemies on the other side who would certainly, if they found them, kill them, or carry them off as slaves, or, they added, “very likely eat us, for they are terrible cannibals.” As soon as the arrangement was made, they all came leaping and hooting and rushing against each other, like a set of school-boys unexpectedly let loose for a half holiday, or a party of sailors on shore after a long cruise.

While the blacks were arranging our property into fit packages for carrying, the two boys and I accompanied David to the mouth of the river, which, as I said, was lined with mangrove bushes, a ledge of rocks which ran out some way enabling us to get a view up the stream. We had thus an opportunity of examining those curious trees. Innumerable roots rose out of the water, lifting the trunk far above it, and from its upper part shot off numerous branches with bright green foliage, which grew in radiated tufts at their ends. Many of them were bespangled with large gaily-coloured flowers, giving them a far more attractive appearance than could be supposed, considering the dark, slimy mud out of which they grew. From the branches and trunk, again, hung down numberless pendulous roots, which had struck into the ground, of all thicknesses—some mere thin ropes, others the size of a man’s leg—thus appearing as if the tree was supported by artificial poles stuck into the ground. David told me that the seeds germinate on the branches, when, having gained a considerable length, they fall down into the soft mud, burying themselves by means of their sharp points, and soon taking root, spring upwards again towards the parent tree. Thus the mangrove forms an almost impenetrable barrier along the banks of the rivers. On the other side of the stream, indeed, we saw that they had advanced a considerable distance into the ocean, their mighty roots being able to stem even the waves of the Atlantic. Near where we stood the ground was rather more open, and we saw the black mud covered with numberless marine animals, sea-urchins, holothuria, or sea-slugs, crabs, and several other creatures, many of brilliant hues, which contrasted curiously with the dark mud over which they were crawling. The roots of the trees were also covered with mussels, oysters, and other Crustacea. But the most curious creature was a small fish which I had before seen, called by sailors Jumping Johnny. David called him a close-eyed gudgeon (periophthalmus). He was of the oddest shape, and went jumping about sometimes like a frog, and sometimes gliding in an awkward manner over the mud. We were watching one of them when Leo cried out, “Why, the fish is climbing the tree—see, see!” And so in reality he was, working his way up by means of his pectoral fins, David supposed in search of some of the minute Crustacea which clung to the roots. Jumping Johnny, having eaten as much as he could swallow, or slipping off by accident, fell back into the mud, when we saw issuing sideways from under the roots a huge crab. David said he was of the Grapsus family. Suddenly he gave a spring, and seized the unfortunate Johnny in his vice-like gripe, and instantly began to make his dinner off the incautious fish, who, as Leo said, would have been wiser if he had kept in the water, and not attempted to imitate the habits of a terrestrial animal.

As we looked up the stream we saw numerous birds feeding along the banks. Among them were tall flamingoes, rose-coloured spoonbills, snow-white egrets, and countless other water-fowl.

“I am glad we have been able to witness this scene here,” said David, “where we can benefit by the sea-breeze; for such deadly miasmas rise from these mangrove swamps, that the further we keep off from them the better.”

While we were watching we saw a canoe, paddled by half a dozen blacks, dart out from the mouth of a creek which had been concealed by the thick trees. We drew back, not knowing whether the people in the canoes might prove friends or foes. Another followed at a little distance, and proceeded up the stream. They were impelled by paddles with broad blades; and the sound of voices reached our ears as if they were singing.

“I do not think they can be enemies, or they would not be so merry,” said Natty.

“I hope not,” I observed.

“If we could stop them we might hire their canoes to convey us up the river.”

“It might be dangerous to do so,” said David, “on two accounts: they might prove treacherous, and the miasmas rising from the stream might also possibly give some of us fever. I think we had better let them go on their way, and proceed as Senhor Silva proposed.”

Returning, we found the party ready to start. We told Senhor Silva about the canoes.

“I think you did wisely to let them go,” he remarked. “Unless we were under the protection of their chief man, or king, as he is called, we could not tell how they might behave. We must use great caution in our intercourse with these people. When we have shown them that we are friends, and desire to do them all the good in our power, we, I hope, shall find them faithful; but they have become so debased by their intercourse with the white people, and especially, I am sorry to say, with my countrymen, who often deal treacherously with them, that they cannot be depended on. They in return, as might naturally be supposed, cheat and deceive the whites in every way.”

Our path first led through the forest near the banks of the river, of which we occasionally got glimpses. It was here of considerable width, bordered by mangrove bushes. In one or two places there were wide flats covered with reeds. Suddenly, as we passed a point of the river, I saw drawn up what had much the appearance, at the first glance, of a regiment of soldiers, with red coats and white trousers.

“Why, where can those men have come from?” I cried out.

David, who was near me, burst into a laugh, in which his sisters and the boys joined. “Why, Andrew, those are birds,” he answered. “A regiment, true enough, but of flamingoes; and see! they are in line, and will quickly march away as we approach.”

A second glance showed me that he was right; and a very curious appearance they had.

“See! there is the sentinel.”

As he spoke, one of the birds nearest to us issued a sound like that of a trumpet, which was taken up by the remainder; and the whole troop, expanding their flaming wings, rose with loud clamours into the air, flying up the stream. We went on, and cutting off a bend in the river, again met it; and here our bearers declared that they must stop and rest. We accordingly encamped, though Senhor Silva warned us that we must remain but a short time, as we wished to reach some higher ground before dark. A fire was lighted for cooking; and while our meal was preparing, David and I, with the two boys, went down nearer the banks to see what was to be seen. We observed on the marshy ground a little way off a high mound, and creeping along, that we might not disturb the numerous birds which covered the banks or sat on the trees around, we caught sight of another mound, with a flamingo seated on the top of it, her long legs, instead of being tucked up as those of most birds would have been, literally astraddle on it.

“That is one of their nests,” whispered David. “The bird is a hen sitting on her eggs. Depend upon it, the troop is not far off. See, see! there are many others along the banks. What a funny appearance they have.”

Presently a flash of red appeared in the blue sky, and looking up, we saw what might be described as a great fiery triangle in the air sweeping down towards us. On it came, greatly diminishing its rate, and we then saw that it was composed of flamingoes. They hovered for a moment, then flew round and round, following one another, and gradually approached the marsh, on which they alighted. Immediately they arranged themselves as we had before seen them, in long lines, when several marched off on either side to act as sentinels, while the rest commenced fishing. We could see them arching their necks and digging their long bills into the ground, while they stirred up the mud with their webbed feet, in order to procure, as David told us, the water-insects on which they subsist. They, however, were not the only visitors to the river. The tide was low, and on every mud-bank or exposed spot countless numbers of birds were collected—numerous kinds of gulls, herons, and long-legged cranes—besides which, on the trees were perched thousands of white birds, looking at a distance like shining white flowers. They were the egretta flavirostris. Vast flocks of huge pelicans were swimming along the stream, dipping their enormous bills into the water, and each time bringing up a fish. They have enormous pouches, capable of containing many pounds of their finny prey.

“Could we kill one or two we should get a good supply of fish for supper,” said David; “for the pelican stows them away in his pouch, where they remain not only undigested, but perfectly fresh, and not till it is full does he commence his meal. However, as we have no canoe, even were we to kill one we could not get him.”

While we were looking on, a huge bird, descending from the sky, it seemed, pounced down into the water, quickly rising again with a large fish in his mouth.

“Ah, that fellow is the fishing-eagle of Africa—the Halicetus vocifer” said David. “His piercing eye observed his prey when he was yet far up in the air. See how like a meteor he descended on it! Now he flies away to yonder rock; and there, see! he has begun to tear his fish to pieces. How quickly he has finished it—and listen to that curious shriek he is uttering, and how oddly he moves his head and neck. It is answered from those other rocks. The birds are calling to each other, and from this the fishing-eagle has gained his name of vocifer” Leo was for shouting and making them fly off. “No, no; let them feed,” said David. “We have frightened the flamingo once; and how would you like to be disturbed in your dinner? We must get Kate to come and look at them.”

While we were watching the birds, an enormous head emerged from the water at a short distance from us. Leo and Natty, who were a little in front, started back, Leo exclaiming, “What can it be? What a terrific monster!” A huge body rising after the head, the creature swam slowly up the stream.

“Why, that must be a hippopotamus,” observed David, watching the creature in his usual calm way.

“It looks to me the size of an elephant,” exclaimed Leo. “Run, run, run! If he were to attack us he would swallow us up in a mouthful.”

“I do not think it has even noticed us,” said David. “It will be time enough to run when the creature lands. See! there is another.”

As he spoke, a second and then a third hippopotamus appeared, following the first. The creatures, indeed, had truly terrific countenances; their backs in the water looking, as Leo had declared, nearly as large as those of elephants.

“But see, there are some other creatures nearer!” cried Natty. “Oh, what are they? What fearful jaws!”

He pointed to the bank close below us, and there we saw, just scrambling out of the water, three huge crocodiles. There was no mistaking them. We knew at once by their long snouts and terrific jaws, their scaly backs and lizard-like tails, their short legs and savage eyes. They seemed in no way afraid of the hippopotami, which they kept watching as they swam by.

“I little expected to get a sight of these monsters,” said David. “But see! they take no notice of us, and we need not be afraid of them.”

I had my gun, and instinctively levelled at the head of the nearest hippopotamus.

“Do not fire,” said David. “Even if you were to kill the beast we could not get him, and it would be cruel to slaughter him without any object in view. He intends us no harm; we ought to allow him to enjoy the existence the Creator has given him.”

The hippopotami swam by and dived, and presently we saw them rise to the surface with a quantity of weeds in their mouths, which they chewed leisurely as they swam on. The crocodiles meantime crawled up on the bank and lay basking in the sun, enjoying its warmth, and looking at that time, at all events, as if they had no evil intentions. It was a curious scene, and gave us an idea of the vast amount of animal life to be met with in that region.

“I think it would frighten Kate, brave as she is, to see those huge monsters,” said Leo.

“Oh, no,” answered David. “Bella might be somewhat alarmed; but I am sure Kate would be as much interested as we are in witnessing this curious sight. We will get her to come, but warn her beforehand what she is to expect.”

We accordingly hastened back to the camp, but found we had been so long absent that it was now time to proceed; and the bearers taking up their loads, we continued our march. Senhor Silva assured Kate and Bella they need not be disappointed at missing a sight of the flamingoes, as they would have many opportunities of seeing troops of those magnificent birds, which are found in vast numbers throughout that region.

The woods as we proceeded appeared full of life. Birds flitted among the boughs, and monkeys of all sorts sprang here and there, chattering and hooting as we passed. Soon after this we emerged from the wood and entered a beautiful prairie—a natural clearing covered with grass or low shrubs and flowers. As yet we had fallen in with no inhabitants. “Oh, but see!” exclaimed Leo. “There are some huts ahead. Shall we go and pay the people a visit?” The boys ran on. I thought Senhor Silva would have called them back, but he allowed them to proceed. At all events, he knew that if the huts were inhabited, the people were likely to prove friendly. The boys stopped before the seeming huts, and began to examine them. We saw them walking round and round, and they then finally climbed to the top of one of them. After apparently satisfying their curiosity, they came back towards us.

“They are not huts,” exclaimed Natty, “but curious mounds, three or four times as high as we are.”

“What do you say to those mounds or clay-built domes being the houses of ants, and built entirely by themselves?” said Senhor Silva.

As we approached we saw a dozen or more such mounds, scattered about at short distances from each other. Having got to a secure distance from the last, two of our bearers put down their loads, and advancing towards it with the poles they carried, began to attack it with heavy blows, knocking off one of the small turrets on the side. Instantly a white ant was seen to appear through the opening thus made, apparently surveying the damage done. Immediately afterwards, hundreds of other ants came to the spot, each carrying a small lump of clay, with which they began to repair the damage; and even for the short time we remained, they had made some progress. We could discover, however, no outlet or opening in the mound; nor, except at the hole made by our bearers, were any ants seen. We, however, could not remain to watch the progress of the work. Just as we were going, one of our bearers, much to my regret, commenced a still more furious attack on the citadel, exposing the whole centre to view, when it appeared crowded with thousands and tens of thousands—so it seemed—of ants, who issued forth with pincers stretched out, evidently intending to attack us. David caught up one of the ants to examine it; but we were all too glad hurriedly to make our escape. We found the creature, on examining it, to be a quarter of an inch in length, with a flat hard head, terminating in a pair of sharp horizontal pincers, something like the claws of a crab.

Several, who, in spite of our flight, caught hold of us, bit very hard, and did not fail to draw blood. Senhor Silva, as we marched on, gave us a very interesting account of these white ants, with the habits of which he was well acquainted, as he told us he had had one of the mounds cut completely in two, so as to examine the interior. The under part alone of the mound is inhabited by the ants; the upper portion serving as a roof to keep the lower warm and moist for hatching the eggs. His description put me somewhat in mind of the Pyramids of Egypt. The larger portion is solid. In the centre, just above the ground, is the chief cell, the residence of the queen and her husband. Round this royal chamber is found a whole labyrinth of small rooms, inhabited by the soldiers and workmen. The space between them and the outer wall of the building is used partly for store-rooms and partly for the purpose of nurseries. A subterranean passage leads from a distance to the very centre of the building. It is cylindrical, and lined with cement. On reaching under the bottom of the fortress, it branches out in numerous small passages, ascending the outer shell in a spiral manner, winding round the whole of the building to the summit, and intersecting numerous galleries one above the other, full of cells. The outer end of the great gallery, by which the mound is approached, also branches off into numerous small ones, so as to allow a passage into it from various directions. As the ants cannot climb a perpendicular wall without difficulty, all their ascents are gradual. It is through this great passage that they convey the clay, wood, water, and provisions to their colony.

To give you a correct idea of the way these curious mounds are built and stocked with inhabitants, I should tell you that the perfect termites are seen at certain seasons in vast quantities covering the earth, each having four narrow wings folded on each other. They are instantly set upon by their enemies—reptiles of all sorts, and numerous birds—who eat such quantities, that out of many thousands but few pairs escape destruction. There are besides them in their fortress vast numbers of labourers, who only issue forth with caution to obtain provisions and materials for their abodes. When these discover a couple of the perfect termites who have escaped destruction, they elect them as their sovereigns, and escorting them to a hollow in the earth which they at once form, they establish a new community. Here they commence building, forming a central chamber in which the royal pair are ensconced; while they go on with their work, building the galleries and passages which have been described, till the mound has reached the dimensions of those we have seen. The king in a short time dies, but his consort goes on increasing in bulk till she attains the enormous length of three inches, and a width in proportion. She now commences laying her eggs, at the rate, it is said, of nearly sixty in a minute. This often continues night and day for two years, in which time fifty million eggs have been laid. These are conveyed by the indefatigable labourers to the nurseries, which are thus all filled. When hatched, they are provided with food by the labourers. There is another class, the soldiers. These are distinguished by the size of their heads, and their long and sharp jaws, with which they bravely attack any intruders. When any unwary creature appears to attack their abode, first one comes out to see what is the matter. He summons others, and directly afterwards vast numbers issue forth, doing battle with the greatest courage. When any of them are knocked over, instantly recovering themselves, they return to the assault with a bravery and courage surpassed by no other creature in creation. The labourers meantime are exerting themselves to the utmost to repair the damages which have been effected in their fortress. Those who have watched their proceedings state that in a single night they will repair a gallery, which has been injured, of three or four yards in length. We were thankful that in our attack on the termites’ fortress we had escaped with only a few bites; but probably had we remained longer in their neighbourhood we should have received far more severe injuries.

Travelling on for several days, we emerged into some open ground, where we prepared to encamp. We selected a spot somewhat above the plain, and our bearers at once set to work to cut down poles. These they planted in circles, and interwove them with branches of palm-trees, forming walls which afforded sufficient shelter from the night wind; then bringing the tops close together, they thatched them over with leaves of the same tree. We of course all assisted, and in a short time a number of small circular huts were formed sufficient to accommodate the whole of the party. A quantity of wood was collected, to keep up blazing fires to preserve us from the attacks of wild beasts. We were at a sufficient distance, however, from the skirts of the forest, not to be taken totally unawares. Still, it was considered necessary to place guards round the camp, two of our party and two of the blacks remaining on the watch all night. Before darkness closed in, we saw numbers of monkeys in the trees, watching us with curious looks, leaping from bough to bough, and chattering and grinning, wondering apparently who the strangers could be who had thus ventured into their domain. The two girls had a hut to themselves. We had formed a second wall of sticks round it, so that should any wild beast approach unseen, it could not force an entrance, which Senhor Silva told us had sometimes occurred. The moon rose in an unclouded sky, and cast a mild light over the scene. In the distance were the lofty mountains, on either side the dark woods, and far away to the west was the ocean we had left behind. It was a beautiful scene, such as I had not expected to witness in that region, and we were all more than ever thankful that we had escaped from the slaver. Still, I could not banish from my mind the spectacle I had witnessed on board, and my thoughts went back to the unhappy beings crowded on the slave-deck of that fearful craft. I was reminded that we were in Africa by the cries which proceeded ever and anon from the surrounding forest. Now there was a loud roar, with a suppressed muttering, which it would be hard to describe, and which I afterwards learned to distinguish as the voice of the monarch of the woods; not that he often ventures here, for his rule is disputed by the tremendous gorilla, the creature who had only a short time before been discovered in this region. We were, however, we concluded, on the most southern verge of his territory, and we therefore scarcely expected to encounter one. We kept our fires blazing through the night, and thus avoided any attacks from lions or panthers, or any other wild beasts.

The morning broke brightly, though we could see the mist hanging over the far distant coast. Birds flew about among the trees and across the prairie in all directions, uttering their varied notes; and the monkeys came forth, skipping from bough to bough, muttering and shrieking at us as on the previous evening, as if they had not as yet satisfied their curiosity. While Kate, assisted by Timbo and Jack, prepared breakfast, I accompanied Stanley and David, with the two boys, to shoot some birds for our next meal. I had heard so much of serpents and wild beasts, that I expected every instant to see a snake wriggling its way through the grass, and about to fasten its fangs in our legs, or to twine its fearful coils round our bodies. I could not help also looking anxiously at every bush, expecting to have a lion or a panther spring out on us, David acknowledged that he had a similar feeling. Stanley, however, laughed at our apprehensions, assuring us that snakes were not nearly so common as were supposed, or how could the almost naked blacks make their way through the country, though he acknowledged that lions and panthers were in some places justly dreaded; “But then,” he observed, “we can the more easily defend ourselves against them. A well-aimed bullet will settle the fiercest lion we have to encounter.”

We had good sport, and shot several varieties of birds. Among them was a partridge, of a grey colour; and David said that they were its loud calls we had heard in the forest the evening before, summoning its mate. He had observed them sleeping side by side on a branch of a tree where they have their home, and the bird which was first there did not cease calling till its mate arrived. We also shot several parrots, of a species known as the African damask parrot. They are pretty birds, and their habits are very interesting. Had we not positively required them for food, I should have been unwilling to kill them. We had seen numbers flying towards a stream which ran into the river we had passed on the previous evening. They there assembled, making a great deal of noise, and huddled and rolled over each other, frolicking together, and dipping their feet into the water, so as to sprinkle it over the whole of their bodies. Having enjoyed an ample bath and amused themselves for a time, they flew off to the forest whence they came. There we saw them sitting on the branches, cleaning their feathers. The operation over, they flew off in pairs, each pair seeking its own nest or roosting-place, separate from the others. David said that this species is noted for conjugal affection, for they never separate till one or the other dies, and the survivor then pines to death for its mate. The boys were very anxious to catch one alive for Bella, but we could not succeed in so doing. Coming near a dead tree, we saw several hollows, evidently formed by art. Leo climbed up to one of them, and putting in his hand, drew out a beautiful little bird, with a throat and breast of a glossy blue-black, having a scarlet head and a line of canary-yellow running from above the eyes along the neck. The back also, which was black, was covered with yellow spots. Here David brought his knowledge to bear; and said, from its habits, he should call it the carpenter bird. When the birds pair, they fix on a tree, the wood of which has been sufficiently softened by age to enable them to work upon it with their bills. They then take out a circular opening, about two inches in diameter and about two deep. Next they dig perpendicularly down for about four inches, the last hollow made serving as their nest. They line it softly, and the female, laying her eggs, is able to hatch them without much risk of an attack from birds of prey.

“I suppose monkeys do not eat birds,” observed Leo; “or I suspect our little friend would very soon be pulled out of its nest.”

“Just as you have done, Leo,” observed Stanley; “and probably the poor little bird took you for a chimpanzee, or perhaps even for a gorilla.”

“But neither chimpanzees nor gorillas eat animal food,” observed David. “They live upon roots, fruits, and leaves; and do not amuse themselves by bird-nesting.”

I need not mention the other birds we shot, but, pretty well loaded, we returned with our prizes to the camp. Breakfast over, we packed up and proceeded on our journey, leaving our huts for the occupation of the next comers.

Chapter Five.

The Domains of the Gorilla.

We travelled on for two days, and still the mountains were not reached; but they grew higher and clearer as we advanced, and we had hopes of getting to them at last. My young cousins bore the journey wonderfully well. When we came to difficult places, her brothers and I helped Kate along, making a seat for her with our joined hands. We could thus make but slow progress, and she entreated us to allow her to walk, declaring that she was not at all fatigued; while Timbo or Jack carried Bella on their back, and with long sticks in their hands trudged on merrily. We caught sight of several wild animals. On two or three occasions buffaloes crossed our path, but at too great a distance for a shot. We killed, however, a wild boar, which afforded a fine meal for our party. Natty and I were a little in advance, when we came to a large village of white ants, such as I have before described. We were examining them, when I saw a troop of gazelles come bounding across the prairie towards us. The wind blew from them to us, and as we were behind the hill, they did not observe us. Our larder at the time was ill-supplied, and so I was anxious to kill one. I rested my gun on one of the turrets of the hill. I was not much of a shot, but I was improving. The herd came by within thirty yards of us. Just then the leader caught sight of the rest of the party, who were coming up. I saw that I must now fire, or lose my chance. I took aim at the nearest—a doe, with her young one by her side. The mother escaped, but the little creature fell to the ground. In spite of my hunger I felt almost sorry for what I had done, when, running forward, the dying animal turned up its large languishing eyes towards me as it stretched out its limbs quite dead. I am afraid it was but a clumsy shot at best, as I ought to have killed the larger animal. Natty and I, placing it on my pole between our shoulders, bore it in triumph to our friends, who received us with shouts of satisfaction. Stanley also shot a beautiful little squirrel and a number of birds—indeed, a good sportsman in health, with a supply of ammunition, need never, in that part of Africa, be without abundance of animal food; but some of the natives, who have no firearms and are very improvident, often suffer from famine even in that land of abundance.

The buffalo of Tropical Africa—Bos brachicheros—is about the size of an English ox. His hair is thin and red, and he has sharp and long hoofs, his ears being fringed with soft silky hair. His chief ornaments are his horns, which gracefully bend backwards. In shape he is somewhat between a cow and an antelope. A herd feeding at a distance had very much the appearance of English cattle grazing in a meadow. They differ greatly from the Cape buffalo, to be met with further south.

Evening was approaching, when the head man of our bearers spoke to Senhor Silva, who instantly called a halt. The black’s quick ears had detected sounds in the distance. “He thinks there are elephants out there,” said Senhor Silva, pointing ahead. We were then in a thinly-wooded country, and a charge from those monsters would have been dangerous. We saw, however, a clump of trees on one side, behind which Senhor Silva advised that we should take post till we had ascertained the state of the case. The blacks were eager for us to attack them, hoping to enjoy a feast off the huge bodies of any we might kill. As it might expose the young ladies to danger should we do so, even Stanley resolved to let them pass by unmolested. I have not yet mentioned the leader or head man of the bearers. His name, he told Senhor Silva, was Chickango; but Jack and Timbo called him the Chicken. He was an enormous fellow, and ugly even for an African; but there was a good-humoured, contented expression in his countenance, which won our confidence. His costume was a striped shirt, and a pair of almost legless trousers; while on the top of his high head he wore a little battered straw hat, such as seamen manufacture for themselves on board ship—indeed, his whole costume had evidently been that of a seaman, exchanged, probably, for some articles which he had to dispose of. Chickango, signing to us to remain behind the clump of trees, advanced towards the spot where he expected to find the elephants. Suddenly he threw up his arms, and began shouting at the top of his voice. His cries were answered by similar shouts from a distance; and presently, beckoning to us to come on, he hurried towards the spot whence they proceeded. Passing through a belt of wood, we came in sight of an encampment of blacks seated round their fires. There were upwards of one hundred human beings—men, women, and children. A few of the men were dressed in cast-off European garments, with rings round their arms and legs, their woolly heads being mostly uncovered. Chickango advancing, explained, we concluded, who we were; and we received a hearty welcome from the party. The chief, an old man, sat in their centre, attended by his wives. He was distinguished from his companions by an old battered cocked hat, ornamented with beads. He wore, besides, a checked shirt and a regular Scotch kilt, which had somehow or other found its way into his territory. Senhor Silva then explained to us, through Chickango, that he and his party had come from a considerable distance up the country, where they had gone to collect caoutchouc, or india-rubber, the packages of which lay piled up near the centre of the camp. They had collected it some distance up the country, where the vines which produce it grow in considerable quantities. In South America it is obtained from a tree; but in Africa from a creeper of great length, with very few leaves growing on it, and those only at its extremity. They are broad, dark green, and lance shaped. The larger vines are often five inches in diameter at the base, with a rough brown bark. The mode of obtaining it is to make an incision in the bark, but not in the wood, and through it the milky sap exudes. A small peg Is then fixed in each hole to prevent its closing, and a cup or calabash secured underneath. When this is full, a number of them are carried to the camp, where the substance is spread in thin coatings upon moulds of clay, and dried layer after layer over a fire. When perfectly dry, the clay mould is broken and the clay extracted from the interior. The caoutchouc, though originally white, becomes black from the smoke to which it is exposed while drying. It is in this state brought down to the coast and sold to the traders.

“Oh yes,” said David. “This is the material with which Mr Mackintosh makes his waterproof coats. He found that it could be re-dissolved in petroleum; and by covering two pieces of woollen or cotton stuff with the liquid, and uniting them by a strong pressure, he formed a material through which no water can penetrate. Some time afterwards, Messrs Handcock and Broding discovered that, by the addition of a small quantity of sulphur to the caoutchouc, it acquired the property of retaining the same consistency in every temperature without losing its elasticity. A further discovery was made by Mr Goodyear, who, by adding about twenty per cent of sulphur, converted it into so hard a substance that all sorts of articles can be manufactured from it for which tortoise-shell had hitherto been chiefly used—indeed, it is difficult to say what cannot be made out of it.”

Besides india-rubber, the blacks had several huge lumps of ebony and a small number of elephants’ tusks, which they had either purchased from other natives further in the interior, or were carrying down to the coast to sell for the original owners on commission. The ebony was brought from the hilly country, where alone the ebony-tree grows. It is one of the finest and most graceful of African trees. The trunk, five or six feet in diameter at the base, rises to the height of fifty or sixty feet, when fine heavy boughs branch forth, with large dark green and long and pointed leaves hanging in clusters. Next to the bark is a white sap wood, and within that the black wood. This does not appear till the tree has reached a growth of two or three feet in diameter, so that young trees are not cut down. The trunk and even the branches of the mature tree become hollow. It generally grows in clumps of three or four together, scattered about the forest.

Nearly all the negro tribes on this part of the coast have the spirit of trade strongly implanted in them; and I cannot help thinking that it is so for the purpose of ultimately bringing about their civilisation, which the nefarious slave-trade has so long retarded. That trade is one of the sins which lies at England’s door, and she should endeavour to make amends for the crime, by using every means in her power for the spread of Christianity and civilisation among the long benighted Africans. We observed that the men, women, and children were very busy in the camp—the women cooking and making arrangements for the night, while the children were collecting firewood from the neighbouring thickets. Poor little creatures, I was afraid that some of them might be carried off by panthers or other beasts of prey who might be prowling about in the neighbourhood; but their parents seemed to have no such fear. We were anxious to obtain some more bearers to carry Kate and Bella, as also to assist us in conveying our goods up the mountain. Chickango undertook to make the arrangements, and after a good deal of talking with the chief and then with the people, he pointed out four young men who expressed themselves ready to accompany us. These arrangements being made, we encamped on a somewhat higher spot a short distance from our friends, and soon had huts built such as I have before described. Though we heard the cries of wild beasts in the forest, none ventured near us, as we kept up blazing fires all night.

Next morning, even before our party were stirring, the old chief and his followers were on foot, preparing to continue their march towards the sea-coast. The men, however, sat still, with their bows in their hands, talking to each other while the women were employed in packing up their goods in baskets, which they suspended at their backs, with their children in many instances on the top of them. All the elder children also had burdens, but the men walked along with a haughty air, carrying nothing but their arms in their hands. Saluting us with loud cries, they proceeded towards the west.

We meantime had been employed in packing up, but instead of making Kate and Bella carry burdens, we prepared a litter to carry them. Passing through a dense forest, we saw before us the mountain range we hoped soon to gain. Near the banks of the stream we passed a grove of curious trees with short stems, on either side of which projected huge long leaves with feather-like branches on the top. Amid them was an immense number of clusters of nuts, each larger than a pigeon’s egg. Chickango ordered one of the men to climb up and bring down a cluster when he saw us looking at them. On pressing the nuts even with our fingers, a quantity of oil exuded; and Senhor Silva told us that the tree was the Cocos butyracea, the oil extracted from which is exported in large quantities from the neighbouring rivers, chiefly to Liverpool. We calculated that the tree had fully eight hundred nuts on it; and as each contains a considerable quantity of oil, it may be supposed how large an amount a single tree produces. I had seen something of the trade on my former visit to the coast, when I was at the Bonny river. We took chiefly English manufactures to exchange for the oil, and a few bales of glass beads from Germany. On entering the river we covered in the deck with a mat roofing, to protect us from the sun and the tropical showers; but before we could begin trading we had to pay a heavy duty to the old king of the territory, of muskets, powder, tobacco, calicoes, woollen caps, and, what he valued still more, several dozens of rum. The dealers then made their appearance, and received advances of goods to purchase oil in the interior, for the Bonny itself does not produce the oil. Our next business was to erect a cask-house on shore, in which to prepare the puncheons for the reception of the oil. This was brought down in small quantities by the traders; and it took us nearly four months to obtain about eight hundred puncheons, which our vessel carried. The palm-oil or pulla, when brought to us, was of a rich orange colour, and of the consistency of honey. To my surprise, the morning after the first quantity arrived I found a basin full of it on the breakfast-table, and learned that it was the custom to eat it instead of butter; and very delicious it was. By the time it reaches England, it has, however, obtained a disagreeable taste, totally different from what it possesses when fresh. The palm-oil is about the most valuable production of this part of Africa; and the natives are beginning to discover that its collection is far more profitable to them than the slave-trade.

To return to my narrative: we encamped at a short distance from the thick wood, by the side of the stream I spoke of, hoping early next morning to begin our ascent of the mountains. We might have proceeded further, but the spot was so tempting, that, although we had a couple of hours of daylight, we agreed to stop where we were. The blacks soon had the huts erected and fires lighted—an operation they would not have undertaken had their wives been present to do it for them. As we were all very hungry, we immediately commenced our evening meal, some birds we had shot not taking long to cook; while we had a good supply of biscuits, which we had brought, with tea as our beverage.

“This is just such a pic-nic as we had in our last holidays,” said Bella, looking round with a smiling countenance. “You remember, Leo, it was by the side of a stream; and you went and caught some fish, and we had them cooked before the fire.”

“Oh yes; and I will try and get some fish now,” said Leo. “Natty, you will come and fish with me as soon as supper is over.”

To this, of course, Natty agreed; and Jack produced a ball of twine, while I fortunately had some fish-hooks in my pocket, which I brought from the wreck. While we were laughing and talking, suddenly a loud roar reached our ears, which made Kate start and little Bella turn pale, while a loud hollow sound, as if a drum had been beaten, followed the roar. Leo declared it was more like distant thunder. Our blacks started to their feet, many of them with looks of terror, uttering the word—Ngula. Stanley seized his gun. “That must be a gorilla!” he exclaimed, examining the lock.

“I hope so,” cried David. “It would be worth coming here to see the monster.”

“No doubt about its being a gorilla,” said Senhor Silva, “but you must be cautious how you approach him. Chickango says he will go with you. He is a good hunter; and, I judge by his looks, a brave fellow.”

The ugly black nodded his head, and pointing to the forest, advanced towards it. David and I also took our guns.

“Now be steady,” said Stanley. “I will fire first, and if I fail to kill him, David, do you fire; and, Senhor Silva, tell our black friend that he must make the third shot; and Andrew, you must act as a reserve in case of accidents,—but I hope not to miss him.”

Stanley and David kept together, while the black and I advanced a little on one side. Turning my head for an instant, I saw Leo and Natty following us. I signed to them to go back, but they seemed resolved to take a share in the expected fight. Each was armed with a long pike, which I knew would have been of about as much use as a tooth-pick should they be attacked by the creature. We made our way between large boulders to the edge of the forest, which seemed almost too thick to be penetrated. I had never felt so excited. My sensations were something like those, I fancy, of a soldier going into his first battle; but from what I had heard of the gorilla, I knew him to be almost as formidable an antagonist as the best armed man. For some time as we advanced into the forest there was a perfect silence, yet we were certain that the monster could not be far off. The trees grew closer and closer together; and as the edge of the forest was turned towards the east, we soon found ourselves shrouded in a thick gloom. Still, so eager were we to meet the beast, that, instead of halting, as might have been wiser, we continued to push onwards. Suddenly a terrific roar was heard proceeding from a spot not many paces ahead. Had it not been uttered, we might have gone close up to the creature without perceiving him. Just then we saw the branches waving to and fro, and a huge monster moving on all fours appeared amidst them. Suddenly he rose up on his hind-legs, holding on to a bough with one hand, and then striking his breast, from which a loud hollow sound came forth. He uttered another terrific roar, and grinned fiercely at us. “Oh, what a terrible giant!” I heard Leo exclaim behind me. I dared not turn my head or speak to urge the boys to run back. My attention was rivetted on the huge gorilla, for I now saw before me that monster of the African woods. Again he uttered a fearful roar, and beating his breast and gnashing his teeth, he began to move towards us. He was not many paces from Stanley, who was a little in advance. “Steady, friends!” cried our leader. I held my breath with anxiety; for should my cousin’s gun miss fire, it seemed impossible for him to escape being seized by the tremendous creature. Then I saw his rifle raised to his shoulder. There was a flash, which lighted up the monster’s face and the surrounding branches, and then with a terrific roar I saw it spring forward. Just as I dreaded that Stanley was about to be seized by its sharp claws it stopped, and, with a groan almost human, fell forwards on its face, crashing amidst the bushes, and rolled over on the ground. Even then I expected to see it rise again and attack us, but the bullet had gone through its huge chest; and though it made several convulsive struggles, by the time we reached it it lay perfectly quiet. Chickango struck it with his spear, but it did not move, and then he plunged it into its breast.

“Have you really killed him?” cried Natty and Leo, running up to us. “We would have fought him, that we would!” exclaimed Leo, jumping on the gorilla’s body.

Chickango at the same time seized one of its huge paws, and pulled and shook it violently, and then set up a triumphant shout as a compliment to Stanley on his victory.

“I wish we could carry him to the camp,” said Leo. “It would show Kate and Bella that they need no longer be afraid of the monster.”

“I expect a sight of it would not much tend to allay their fears,” said David, “for it would rather show them what sort of fierce beasts we may expect to find in our neighbourhood.”

“What! do you mean to say there are any more of them?” exclaimed Natty. “When Senhor Silva was talking about him the other day, he called him the king of the forest; and so I fancied, of course, that he had no rivals.”

“Where he exists we shall probably find others,” said David; “though their habitation does not reach further south than we now are: indeed, I did not expect to meet them in this latitude. They chiefly inhabit the country about the Gaboon and other rivers to the north of us.”

We found, on measuring the gorilla, that it was within a few inches of six feet in height, while the muscular development of its arms and breast showed that it could have seized the whole of us in its claws, and torn us to pieces without difficulty; but the art of man and the death-dealing rifle were more than a match for it. Still, as it lay extended on the ground, I could not help feeling as if we had killed some human being—a wild man of the woods, who might, under proper treatment, have been tamed and civilised. David laughed when I made some remark to that effect.

“I suspect, if we were to catch a baby gorilla, and feed it on milk, and bring it up in a nursery, it would prove almost as savage and fierce as this creature,” he answered. “He can feed himself and fight in defence of his liberty, but he could never make a coat to cover his bade, or light a fire to warm himself, though he might have seen it done a hundred times. There is no real relationship between a man and an ape, however much similarity there maybe between the outer form and the skeleton. In man there is the mind, which, even in the most debased and savage, is capable of improvement, and the soul, which nothing can destroy. In the ape there is instinct, and a certain power of imitation which looks like mind, but which, even in the tamest, goes no further. The most enlightened mode of instruction and the utmost patience will never teach an ape to read or talk; while we know that human beings who have been born deaf and blind and dumb have, by a wonderful process, been instructed in many of the glorious truths which can give joy and satisfaction to the soul of man.”

As it was already late, and it would delay us greatly should we attempt to carry it to the camp, we agreed to leave the gorilla where it lay and return for it the next morning. We saw Chickango cautiously looking behind him as we turned our backs on the forest; and he gave us to understand by his gestures that he was afraid a lion or leopard, or some other wild beast, might be following us.

My cousins came out to meet us on our return. The roars of the gorilla had aroused unusual fears in their hearts, and our absence had been so prolonged that they had become anxious for our safety. We kept a strict watch all night; for although we did not again hear the gorilla—indeed, had there been one in the neighbourhood, he would by that time have gone to rest—the sounds of other wild animals frequently reached our ears.

We were up early next morning—the instant there was light—for Kate had made us promise to show her the gorilla. “I may never have an opportunity of seeing another,” she said. “I should like to be able to say when we get to the Cape that I have actually beheld one in his native wilds.”

As neither Jack nor Timbo exhibited such curiosity, we left them in charge of the camp with the black men, to pack up, while we proceeded towards the forest. We advanced cautiously, Stanley and I going ahead, with David and Senhor Silva on either side of the young ladies, and the boys bringing up the rear, Chickango acting as scout, a little in advance on one side of us. Every now and then we halted, whenever we observed the branches disturbed. Now a huge ape of the ordinary species might be seen grinning down upon us, and then scampering off among the boughs; or a troop of monkeys would come chattering above our heads, not so easily put to flight. Birds of gay plumage flitted before us from bough to bough; and a huge snake, which had been coiled round a branch, giving a hiss at us, went off among the underwood into the depths of the forest.

“And now, girls, be prepared for a sight of Leo’s giant of the woods,” said Stanley, turning round when we approached the spot where he had killed the gorilla. “But, hillo! the ground looks alive.”

The trunk of a tree lay near. By climbing on it we got a view of the spot where the gorilla had fallen; but, as we looked towards it, scarcely a particle of the monster could be seen. The skin was there and the huge bones and monstrous skull, but nearly all the flesh had been eaten away by myriads of ants, which swarmed about it. So engaged were they in their work of destruction, that they did not attack us.

“Why, they must be drivers,” said David, “the bashikouay, as the natives call them. They have gained their English name by driving every other species of the animal creation out of their way.”

They were not much larger than the common English ant, of a dark brown colour. David, jumping down, caught one, and showed us that he had a sharp head, terminating in a pair of horizontal nippers—very like those of the warrior ants. In taking one up another had caught hold of his little finger, and gave it a nip which drew blood. Senhor Silva told us that they usually traverse the country by day and night, in trains nearly half a mile long, though only a few inches wide, and, as it passes under the grass, presents the appearance of a huge snake. They also, like the warrior ants, have soldiers who march by the side of the regular column, and the instant any danger appears hurry forward, when the column is either halted or turned backward. Should the difficulty be removed, it again advances. One of their most curious proceedings is the formation by the soldiers of a perfect arch, into which thousands of them weave their bodies, expanding across the whole width of a path where danger is apprehended. Under the arch the females and the labourers who bear the larva; then pass in comparative safety. It is formed in the following manner. One ant stands upright, and then another climbs up and interlocks its feet with the fore-feet of the first, and then another climbs up, somewhat in the fashion of acrobats. Another couple form the base of the arch on the opposite side, and then others, stretching themselves longways, form what may be called transverse beams, to keep the two sides connected. When thus formed, the creatures hold together so tenaciously, that the whole could be lifted off the ground without breaking. If attacked, they spread themselves on the ground over a space of thirty or more feet, across which neither man nor beast can pass with impunity. It is difficult to force a horse through them; and a dog will never venture, unless the space is sufficiently narrow to enable him to cross by a bound. He knows well that, should he fall, they would set upon him; and, before many hours were over, in spite of his strength, entirely consume him. They have been known to attack horses and cattle shut up in a confined space, and to reduce them to skeletons in less than a couple of days. They sometimes enter a dwelling-house through a small hole, and literally take possession, proceeding across the floor, over the walls and ceilings. “When I resided in the Brazils,” said Senhor Silva, as we stood surveying the ants at work, “I was one morning seated at breakfast with my wife and little boy, when I heard outside the house a great commotion, and in rushed a black servant carrying the cage of our favourite parrot in one hand and grasping a number of pet fowls in the other; while our negro girl, hurrying in from another direction, and catching up the lapdog, cried out, ‘See! they come—they come! Fly, senhor. Fly, my dear mistress—fly, or you will all be eaten up.’ Looking down to the ground, towards which she was directing her alarmed gaze, I saw that it was covered by countless numbers of white ants, which came swarming in through a small hole in the wall. I can only liken the appearance of the insects to a stream of water suddenly bursting into the house, so rapidly did they make their way through the opening. It was too late to think of stopping it, for the room was in a few seconds full of them. My wife, taking the advice of the girl, seized our boy by the hand and fled into the garden. I followed quickly, for already I felt the ants biting at my feet. Not for some hours were we able to return, when we found that our invaders had devoured every particle of food in the house. They did us, however, an essential service, by destroying all the mice and cockroaches, as well as other insects which they encountered, so that on that account we were much obliged to them; but there are many instances on record of their destroying human beings unable to move on account of sickness, and with no one to assist them. Formerly, it is said that criminals secured by shackles were laid in their way; happily, however, this terrible custom no longer exists, even among the most savage tribes. They, in most cases, as in ours, effectually rid a house of mice, and take but few minutes to devour one, leaving only its bones and hair.”

We were glad to leave the wonderful insects to their repast on the dead gorilla, and, returning to our camp, found out bearers ready for starting.

We toiled on all day, ascending the sides of the mountain range. Now we had to plunge into a valley thickly covered with trees, and then to ascend the opposite side, now to proceed along the edge of lofty precipices. Sometimes the ascent was so steep that we were obliged to use our hands as well as our long poles to make our way up it. I was thankful that bearers had been provided for the young ladies; for although they had spirit enough to attempt whatever we did, yet they must inevitably have been much fatigued had they been compelled to walk. Leo and Natty, however, trudged on bravely in our midst; and often indeed, when ascending steep places, took the lead. Chickango, who knew the way, having often before traversed it, was of great use. He also kept a watchful eye on either side of the path, especially when we were crossing valleys, lest a leopard or lion might spring out on us, or any huge serpent might lie across our path. At length we reached a lofty plateau, or table-land, which Chickango informed Senhor Silva extended a long way to the south. Over this, therefore, we resolved to travel, till we could find a suitable spot in which to fix our abode. We purposed remaining there till we could send a messenger towards the Cape Colony, hoping that he might fall in with either traders or explorers or missionaries, several of whom were settled in Damara or Namaqua land. The further we travelled south, the cooler and more healthy we should find the climate. We had no wish, either, to remain longer than necessary in the gorilla region.

Chapter Six.

The Crystal Mountains.

Several days had passed away. Our progress had, of necessity, been slow; but it was a satisfaction to feel that we were going towards the south, and getting nearer to where we might hope to meet with assistance. We had all kept our health, and even my young cousins seemed in no way to have suffered; indeed, they looked stronger and better than they were when they landed. Our bearers, however, had for some time shown a disinclination to proceed. They told Senhor Silva that they had come further than they had bargained for, and evidently began to doubt our intentions. They knew very well that their countrymen were carried off in great numbers by the whites; and stories had been told them about the cruelties practised by those white men, and that they even collect people merely to slaughter and eat them. Although they did not perhaps suspect us of such intentions, yet altogether, in spite of the bribes we had to offer them, they thought it wiser to return to their own people. Senhor Silva promised them that as soon as we could find a spot on which to settle, if they did not wish to remain with us, they should be paid and allowed to depart.

Chickango and Timbo had by this time become great friends. They were able to converse freely together; and Timbo told me that he was doing his utmost to instruct his countryman.

“Timbo tell de Chicken all about England and Cape Town, and de oder countries of de world, and de big ships, and de rich white men; and, more dan dat, I tell him dat he got soul, and dat white man and black man hab de same God; and if he stay wid us, we treat him like one broder. You see, I no t’ink he go away now.”

Not without the greatest difficulty, however, could Chickango persuade his countrymen to proceed further with us. The hills over which we were travelling were covered thickly with wood, so that often we could see but a short distance either on one side or the other. Now and then we came to openings, whence we looked down on the wide-spreading country on either side, partly hilly or undulating, and then stretching away in an even plain, intersected by rivers, till lost to sight. Stanley and Senhor Silva, with their guns, were ranging the country on either side.

“Listen!” cried David, who was walking by my side. “What noise is that?”

I listened.

“It sounds like the roar of breakers on a rocky shore,” I observed.

“No,” he said; “it must be a waterfall.”

Hurrying on, we saw before us a wide lake-like expanse on one side, and on the other a cloud of spray floating in the air. As we drew nearer, a broad stream appeared, rushing over a ledge of rocks and falling into a deep chasm below, after which it ran towards the south and east.

“This would be a grand place to settle on,” said David. “Where there is water in this region we are sure to find abundance of game; and it will assist us in defending ourselves against any attacks of the natives, should they prove hostile.”

I agreed with David, and we anxiously looked out for the appearance of Stanley and Senhor Silva, to learn whether they were of the same opinion. When Kate and Bella overtook us, they were delighted with the scene, and agreed that it was just the place where they should like to settle.

In a short time Stanley arrived. He was as well pleased as we were with the appearance of the country around. Senhor Silva had no objection to fixing our abode there, though he would have preferred moving on, in the hope before long of reaching Portuguese territory. Chickango, however, assured us that the country to the south was more difficult to pass over than that we had traversed, and that without men to carry our provisions and goods we could not perform the journey. The matter was settled by our bearers refusing to proceed further. Senhor Silva asked Chickango whether he intended to return with his people or to remain with us. He hesitated; then he seized Senhor Silva’s hands, and gave rapid utterance to an harangue.

“He say we good people, he stop. He my broder now. Hurrah!” exclaimed Timbo.

Although Chickango had resolved to remain with us, he could only induce his countrymen to delay their departure for a few days, in order to assist us in putting up our huts. They at once set to work to construct our usual shelter for the night, which would serve until we could erect a more permanent abode. We fixed upon a spot considerably raised above the head waters of the stream, which would defend us on one side from wild beasts, while the ground sloping downwards on the other would enable us to fortify it against either human beings, or lions or leopards. Those creatures will, without difficulty, leap over the highest fences; and if erected on level ground, no ordinary means are capable of keeping them out. I should observe that there are no tigers in Africa; their absence, however, as Leo remarked, being more agreeable than their company. Stanley and Senhor Silva had been very successful in their hunt, and had brought back a good supply of birds and young deer, besides three or four smaller animals.

By Chickango’s advice, we built our huts in the fashion of his people—that is to say, facing each other, so as to form a street, with their backs to the outside of our little fortress. As the river side was altogether enclosed, one strong door at the other end was sufficient for all the houses. For the sake of air, however, we built our huts separate from each other, and we thus had windows on all sides. The poles were of bamboo, and the walls strong pieces of bark, secured by ropes composed of creepers. The framework roofing was also formed of bamboos, with thick palm-leaves at the top, kept down by ropes. At the inner end was a shed for cooking; and our street was sufficiently wide to enable us to light a fire at night in the centre, to prevent the unwelcome intrusion of wild beasts. Our habitation, though not very imposing, was sufficiently strong to keep out the wet and rain, and, at the same time, was tolerably cool.

The two young ladies had one house to themselves; Stanley, David, and Senhor Silva another; the boys and I a third; Timbo and Chickango had one to themselves; and Jack was left alone in his glory, he taking a small one at the entrance, and having charge of the gate.

“You may depend upon me,” he said. “I will always sleep with one eye open; and if any strange black fellows come near us, or any savage beasts, I will be up and have a crack at them before they know where they are.”

The bearers, having performed their contract very much to our satisfaction, received from Senhor Silva a piece of calico, a knife, and some tobacco, as their payment, with a few beads for their wives, either present or prospective, with which they seemed highly pleased. When they were about to take their departure, Chickango addressed them. What he said we did not understand, but the result was that they agreed to stop two or three days longer and assist us in hunting, whereby they themselves were to benefit by a share of the spoil. They remained at night in the huts they had previously occupied, while we took possession of our new abode. Besides our sleeping houses, there was a large one intended for what Leo called our banqueting-hall. In the centre we constructed a long table, at which we could all sit, with two chairs at the end for the ladies, Stanley, as our chief, having his seat between them, somewhat in the fashion of ancient days, Jack and the two blacks taking their places at the further one. Our bed-places were formed of bamboos raised from the ground. Senhor Silva politely devoted some of his calico to making curtains for those of the young ladies. He had also brought some mosquito-curtains, which he presented to them; for we found that even in that higher region we were not free from those pests of a hot climate.

As I gazed round our new location, I could not help wishing that it was the permanent abode of civilised men. Far as the eye could reach, forest and prairie stretched away into the interior, capable of supporting a dense population; and from the health we had hitherto enjoyed, I saw no reason why even whites should not inhabit it; or, at all events, a civilised black community might there, I hoped, be some day established.

As soon as our black friends had agreed to remain, they set off, headed by Chickango, for the purpose of exploring the banks of the stream, to ascertain in what direction we should commence our hunt the following day. They had not been long absent, when Chickango came hurrying back in a state of excitement, and called to Senhor Silva.

“They have discovered an hippopotamus higher up the stream, and beg that we will go out at once and assist in killing it.”

“What! can they wish to eat one of those ugly brutes?” said Leo. “If they are like those we saw the other day, it will be a hard matter to kill them.”

“Nothing comes amiss to them,” said Senhor Silva; “and we must not disappoint them.”

Senhor Silva, with Stanley and Chickango, accordingly started off, the two boys and I accompanying them to see the sport. Chickango led us some way up the stream, where, on a rock among the trees which lined the island in the centre, we saw a huge monster. He turned his eyes towards us; but from the indifference with which he regarded our approach, it was evident that he was unaccustomed to the sight of man Chickango shouted out.

“What does he say?” asked Stanley.

“It is an hippopotamus. You must fire, and hit him under the ear, and you are sure to kill him,” said Senhor Silva. “The blacks want the creature for food, and you must not disappoint them.”

The water by the side of the banks above the fall was shallow, flowing amongst numerous rocks. Stanley carried a long pistol in his belt.

“Here, take my gun,” he said. “I can hit the creature with this; and if I fall, it will not be of so much consequence.”

Springing forward, he levelled his pistol, and the huge beast rolled over into the water and was carried down the stream. The report, however, brought out several others from among the trees on the river’s bank. They came swimming down towards the fall. I was surprised they did not make towards us, and could not help feeling anxious for Stanley’s safety. He stood his ground, however. Two or three had passed before he had again loaded. He then took aim at a third. He missed! The whole, herd now made for the falls. The body of the first rolled over and over, but the others plunged downwards in a way which showed that they were well accustomed to the feat; and we saw them swimming down the centre to the lower part of the stream. As the last was passing, Stanley took steady aim, and by the way the creature moved, it was evident that it was severely wounded.

The blacks now shouted out again, and led the way down to the lower part of the waterfall. We all followed. How they proposed getting the bodies of the hippopotami out of the river I could not tell, and fully expected that they would soon be lost to sight. There was, however, an eddy, which probably the blacks had observed, and into this both the huge animals were drawn. Still they were at a considerable distance from the land. The blacks, as soon as they reached the banks, began cutting away at a grove of reeds, a species of palmyra. As soon as they were cut, a layer was thrown on the surface of the water. Another layer was placed crossways on this; and so on, till the raft was of sufficient thickness to bear the party. No binding was required, as the reeds were thus sufficiently united for the purpose. With some long poles and some rattan vines cut from the forest, three hunters embarked. Throwing their ropes round the head of the first animal they got up to, they soon towed it ashore, where their companions secured it, while they shoved off for the other. The second was scarcely dead, though unable to defend itself. They secured it to the raft, when it gave a convulsive struggle, and then opened its enormous jaws, which were certainly big enough to swallow one of the men at a mouthful. It was its last effort, however, for it merely grasped the edge of the raft, and the blacks, shoving on, soon brought it to land.

I had now, for the first time, an opportunity of examining an hippopotamus thoroughly. It is a most singular looking animal, which may be described as intermediate between an overgrown hog and a high-fed bull, without horns and with cropped ears. It has an enormous head. Each of its jaws is armed with two formidable tusks, and those in the lower, which are the largest, are nearly two feet in length. The nostrils, ears, and huge eyes are placed on nearly the same plane, thus allowing the animal to make use of its three senses and of respiration, at the same time exposing but a very small part of its body. It is but little inferior in size to the elephant, though its legs are very much shorter; indeed, the belly in the full-grown one almost touches the ground. The hoofs are divided into four parts, unconnected by membranes. By this means it is able to spread out its clumsy-looking toes, and to walk at a quick pace even through mud or in very deep water. The skin is from one to two inches thick, and completely bullet-proof, except behind the ear and near the eye, where it is thinner; and it has a few hairs only on the muzzle, the edge of the ears, and tail. When out of the water it is of a purple-brown hue. In the young animal it is somewhat of a clay yellow, and under the belly of almost a roseate hue; but seen in a clear pool it is a sort of dark blue, or light Indian-ink hue. As we looked at its head we agreed that few animals have more hideous or terrific countenances.

“Why, he would swallow Natty and me up at a mouthful,” said Leo, as he tried to lift up the jaws of one of the huge animals.

“Take care! he will bite!” cried out Natty; and Leo, letting his stick drop, sprang back with an expression of horror in his countenance which made us all laugh.

We left the blacks cutting up their prizes, for which, through Chickango, they expressed themselves duly grateful to Stanley.

We found that the young ladies, aided by Timbo, had prepared a sumptuous repast of wild-fowl and venison, to which we now added some hippopotamus steaks. The meat was somewhat coarse-grained, but tasted not unlike beef. Our black friends consumed it eagerly. During supper we discussed our plans for the future. Chickango assured Senhor Silva that he hoped to obtain a messenger to proceed to the south, although he himself would not venture to go alone. He took his meals with us; indeed he was, in many respects, a civilised black. He knew perfectly well how to behave at table; and used his knife and one of the wooden forks Jack and Timbo had manufactured with perfect ease.

At length our black friends, loaded with as much hippopotamus-meat as they could carry, in addition to the various articles they had received as payment, took their departure. We should have been better pleased had they continued with us, as we might then have proceeded further south without the assistance of strangers.

I have hitherto said very little about Natty Page. He had greatly recovered his spirits after the loss of his father, and now showed that there was a great deal in him. He and Leo and little Bella were the life of our party. They, happily, were not troubled with thoughts of the difficulties and dangers before us, and enjoyed the present to the utmost.

“Do you not think, Andrew,” said Natty to me, “that if we were to build a canoe we could explore the river and make our way to the south far more easily than by land? Meantime, it would assist us in our hunting expeditions; and we should be able to go fishing or shooting birds, although I should not much like to meet with any of those fierce monsters the captain killed the other day.”

“An excellent idea, Natty,” I answered. “I will propose it to Captain Hyslop, and I am sure he will agree with you.”

Stanley was well pleased with the suggestion, and it was at once agreed that we should carry it into execution.

“I, however, never built a canoe, and should scarcely know how to set about it, although I understand the management of one thoroughly,” said Stanley. “I must trust, therefore, to others.”

“No fear, captain,” observed Timbo. “Jack, Chickango, and I soon do de work. First t’ing find big tree; and Senhor Silva got axes, so we soon cut it down.”

Before the day was over we found a large tree, not more than three hundred yards from the bank of the river, which was likely to answer our purpose. The trunk was perfectly straight, the wood soft, and about twelve feet in circumference. The axes our Portuguese friend had among his stores were, however, rather small for the purpose; but yet, if carefully used, we hoped, with perseverance, to have the tree felled in the course of a day. Jack Handspike undertook to act as chief architect, although Chickango and Timbo, I suspect, knew more about the actual work than he did.

“Now, boys,” he sung out, “the first thing we have got to do is to place the craft in the right position for launching, so just see that the tree falls towards the river.”

Senhor Silva interpreted Jack’s remark to Chickango. He nodded, and forthwith cut from the surrounding trees a number of vines, as creepers of all sorts are called. These, with my aid and that of the two boys, he formed into a strong rope. He then mounted the tree by throwing a band round it and his waist, till he reached the branches, carrying the end of the rope with him. This he secured to the top. Descending, he made signs to us to carry it to a distance towards the river, where he secured the opposite end to another tree.

Jack and Timbo, who were expert axe-men, then began cutting away near the ground. First they made a deep notch on the river side, scoring the tree all round. David and I stood by ready to take their places, while Stanley and Senhor Silva went in search of game.

“But what are we to do?” exclaimed Leo. “We do not want to be idle!”

“No, young masters, nor need you,” said Jack. “We shall want spars and oars, so do you go and look out for some small trees fit to make them out of, and cut them down.”

“That will be capital,” cried Natty. “We will soon have a mast and yard ready for you, and as many paddles as we can pull.”

The young ladies, meantime, remained in the house, that Kate might teach Bella, and, when the lessons were over, get dinner ready for us. We worked away with a will, the sound of the axes never ceasing, for as soon as Jack and Timbo were tired, David and I stepped into their places.

“See, we shall soon have the trunk through!” cried Jack. “Run and help Chickango, and haul away as hard as you can. We will have the tree down in a jiffy in that clear space.”

We gave a loud cheer as we saw the tall tree bending towards us, and hauling with all our might as we ran from it, down it came with a crash. Then, as if it had been some huge creature with long feelers ready to seize hold of us, we lashed at the branches with our axes, and began hacking away at them. We had now to cut off a piece of the trunk of sufficient length for the canoe. Jack wanted to make it thirty feet long; but Timbo advised that it should not be more than twenty feet, that it might be the more easily managed in the stream. As we had no saw, this had to be done with our axes, and, of course, occupied more than half as much time as getting down the trunk. The boughs, also, had to be cut up and cleared away, that we might have an open road to the river. By the time this was done night had come on, while hunger made us all ready to return to the house.

The boys were very proud of the tree they had cut down for a mast. They had barked it completely, and shaped it partially, and now came towards us bearing it on their shoulders in triumph.

“Do you not think we might saw the thick end off?” cried Leo, after he had gone a little way with us. “It is wonderfully heavy, I can assure you, and I do not think so long a mast can be required.”

“Better cut it in half at once and make two masts,” said Natty. “It is somewhat heavy to carry up to the top of the hill.”

“Come, young masters, I see what it is you want,” said Jack. “You have cut down the spar, and done it well, and you think that stronger men ought to carry it. Timbo and I will relieve you of it, and you may run on ahead and say we are coming.”

However, the boys, after all, were not very willing to give up the spar of which they were so proud, and carried it on a little way further in spite of their friends’ offers. At length Jack quietly put his shoulder under one end, and Timbo took the other, and fairly lifted it off their backs. It was high time, for their knees were beginning to shake, and their faces looked very red with their exertions. The mast was indeed a great deal too long for the canoe, and required more than a third cut off.

We found that the young ladies had, as usual, made ample preparation for our supper, and Kate had found time to give Bella her usual lessons. Her instruction was imparted certainly under difficulties. Her only books were a Bible, a small History of England, a Johnson’s Dictionary, and a work on natural history. The latter was especially useful to all of us, as it gave a very fair account of many of the animals we were likely to meet with. Senhor Silva had laid in a good stock of paper, pens, and ink. Kate herself was so well acquainted with geography, that she was able to draw maps, and teach her sister without difficulty. History, too, she seemed to have at her fingers’ ends, so that Bella not only learned about England, but most other countries in the world.

Next day we all went back to our work. We began first to shape the outside of the canoe—a task we performed with our axes, and at this four could work at once. By Jack’s advice we planed off the upper side of the tree, so that the plan of the canoe could be drawn off on it by exact measurements. We first drew a straight line down the centre, and from this measured off the two sides with the greatest care. In the game way the stem and stern were measured with a plumb-line. We then turned the log over, and having levelled that side, marked off the keel, thus having it truly in the centre. Natty and Leo had remained to assist in turning over the log.

“Why, that is exactly how I should cut out a model-boat!” exclaimed Leo. “If we had a saw we could shape the bows and stern much more easily, just as I always used to do.”

“But you see, young gentleman, we must make use of what tools we have,” observed Jack. “By sticking at it, I dare say we shall not be as long cutting out this here canoe as you would have been making a little model.”

“Let me see,” said Leo. “No; I remember it took me a good month before I got it ready for painting, and even then, I own, from some unaccountable cause, it was somewhat lopsided.”

“Maybe you did not use the plumb-line, Master Leo,” observed Jack. “You see there is nothing like that for getting things perpendicular, though I cannot say exactly the reason why.”

“There I have you, Jack, then,” said Leo. “It is on account of the centre of gravitation, and a weight let down on the earth always falls perpendicularly to the plane of the earth.”

“That may be philosophy, as you call it, Master Leo, but I cannot say as how I am much wiser than I was; only you will see we will get our canoe to sit fairly on the water—neither heeling over to one side nor t’other.”

Having got all our measurements correct, we once more put the canoe on an even keel, and then commenced chopping away round the intended gunwale, so as to have the upper works done first. By Jack’s advice she was sharp at both ends, like a whale-boat, that we might the better back out of danger if necessary.

“Come, you are getting on so fast with the canoe, that we shall not have the spars ready if we do not set to work,” said Natty. “Come along, Leo;” and the boys ran off with their axes on their shoulders in high glee.

They had not been gone long when we heard their voices crying out, “Come, come!—quick, quick!” Stanley, David, and I hurried on with our guns, which we kept ready for use, and soon reached the boys. They were too excited at first to speak. “A wild man!” cried Leo. “A fierce-looking fellow! I thought he was going to run after us, but he did not, and I do not know if he is still there.”

“But was he a wild man?” said Natty. “He was walking along on all fours, and then he went up a tree. If he had been a man I do not think he would have done that.”

“Probably he was a big ape,” said David; “another gorilla.”

“No, no; not a gorilla,” answered Natty; “but I think he was an ape. He was not so big as the fearful one the captain killed and the ants ate; but he is a big fellow, notwithstanding.”

This account of course excited our curiosity, and we all hurried on, hoping to find the creature which the boys had seen. They led us some way into the forest.

“We shall frighten him if we make a noise,” whispered Natty.

“But I say he is a wild man, and I do not think he will be frightened,” said Leo. “Only take care; if he has companions they may rush out and surprise us.”

“Whether man or beast, we will be cautious,” said Stanley, advancing in woodland fashion, concealing himself as much as possible behind the trunks and undergrowth.

The boys kept close to his side. Presently they stopped, and pointed to a tree standing by itself in a little open glade. The lowest branch was about twenty feet from the ground, and on looking up we saw spread above it a curious roof of leaves like an umbrella, while seated on a branch with one arm round the tree was a huge ape. His feet were resting on the stump of a lower branch, while his head was so completely covered by the roof of his nest that it almost looked like a Chinaman’s huge hat. Presently we heard him give a peculiar sound, something like “hew”—“hew,” which was answered from a little distance, and looking round, we discovered another roof with an ape seated under it. We guessed that it was the female, by her having a funny-looking young ape clinging to her, which she held, as a nurse does a baby, in one arm. We had advanced so cautiously that neither of the animals saw us. They were smaller than the gorilla; the hair seemed blacker and longer, and more glossy.

“Do not kill the creatures,” said David. “They will do us no harm, and we do not want them for food.”

This remark was made just in time to save the life of the old ape, at whom Stanley was aiming.

“You are right,” he answered. “I should like to know more about them, however.”

“Perhaps Chickango or Timbo can tell us,” answered David.

As it was not far off, the boys agreed to go and get them, while we watched the spot. Before long the two blacks came creeping up. Chickango watched them for a little time. Then he spoke to Timbo, who whispered to us:

“He say dat is Nshiego Mbouve. He got bald head, wide mouth, round chin, and—see! beard like one old man! He not nearly so strong as gorilla. Dey stay dere; no fear, not run away now.”

With this information we returned to the canoe. Timbo advised the boys to keep at a distance from the animals; for should they discover that they were watched, they might come down and attack them. Being somewhat tired with our work, and having made considerable progress, we retired earlier than usual to the Castle; for such was the name we had given our abode. Chickango and Timbo, however, remained behind, keeping their guns with them, and saying that they would give a few more touches to the canoe.

We had scarcely reached the house when we heard a distant shot. Leo and Natty, who had just given an account of the animal they had seen to the young ladies, and were still somewhat excited, ran out to ascertain who had fired. We heard them shouting out—

“There they are! and they’re bringing a little chap along with them!”

“It is a young ape,” cried Natty.

“No; I tell you it is a small savage—a boy,” exclaimed Leo. “See! why, he is walking along!”

This announcement, as may be supposed, made us all rush to the door. Sure enough, the two blacks were seen dragging along a young ape with a handkerchief tied over its head; and even then it was turning first on one side and then on the other, endeavouring to bite its captors.

“I am afraid they must have killed the old one,” said David, “or they would not have caught that young creature. That must be the little ape we saw with its mother. No, we did not tell them to let the animals alone; and they do not understand the humane feelings which, at all events, ought to influence us. They probably were surprised we did not kill the creatures at once.”

The blacks now came up with their prize.

“We killed de big mother,” said Timbo. “Chickango say he go back and fetch her when we make fast de little one, which we bring as playmate for Missy Kate and Bella.”

“I doubt if the young ladies will be pleased with their intended companion,” observed David.

“Oh, but he will do as a chum for us!” cried Leo. “He is a brave little chap; I like the spirit he shows, doing his best to bite you.”

The young nshiego was at once secured in Chickango’s hut, for he undertook to take charge of the creature and tame it. David, hearing that the mother was shot, was eager to go and examine her. We accordingly all set off with some poles on which to convey the body. We found on measuring it that it was about four feet high. The skin was black, and many parts of the body were covered with thin blackish hair. It was a far less powerful animal than the gorilla, though its arms were rather longer in proportion to its size. One of its characteristics was its bald head. Its mouth was wider, and the nose less prominent than that of the gorilla. We found nothing but leaves in its inside, which were apparently the food on which it lives. Our young doctor was anxious to secure its skin; and the blacks wished to have its flesh for eating, but to this even Jack demurred.

“No, no!” exclaimed Jack. “I would as lief almost eat one of your people.”

This made Timbo very indignant.

“Dis beast no man,” he exclaimed; “no mind, no soul. Why not eat him? Chickango say he bery good food.”

It was finally agreed that Chickango should cook it outside the Castle, if he wished it, and that he and Timbo should be welcome to feast off it. Senhor Silva and David’s curiosity prompted them to taste some of the animal, which they declared to be very delicate, and not unlike venison. They, however, were very unwilling that Kate and Bella should hear of it.

“You know we eat small monkeys without scruple, and I cannot therefore see why we should not eat the flesh of a big one; in reality, I suspect it is the best of the two,” observed the young doctor.

Our amusement for some time every evening was endeavouring to civilise our young prisoner, the little nshiego. Leo at once called him Chico, because Chickango had caught him, and chico in Spanish means “little.”

The mother’s skin had been drying on some trees outside the Castle. No sooner was it brought in than the creature recognised it, and, running towards it, placed its hands on the head, and finding that it did not move, broke out into a plaintive cry which sounded like “Ooye! ooye! ooye!” and then it looked up in our faces as if seeking for commiseration. At length it ran up to the doctor, and appeared to appeal to him to restore its mother. Jack, who stood by, watched it with an eye of pity. The little creature seemed to understand his feelings; and at length the sailor took it in his arms and caressed it, while Timbo carried off the skin and hid it in his hut. Chico after this always seemed to consider Jack his particular friend. In a few days it became perfectly tame, and showed no inclination to run away. I shall have more to say about Chico by-and-by.

The canoe was progressing. The boys had cut their spars in a very creditable way, and now commenced chopping out boards of sufficient width for the paddles. They had, however, ample time for exploring the neighbourhood. The morning after the capture of Chico they had gone out at an early hour, when, just as we were beginning breakfast, we heard their shouts proceeding from the higher ground up the stream. We ran out, thinking something was the matter.

“We have seen two huge baboons,” exclaimed Leo. “If we had had a gun, we should have killed one of them, at all events.”

David and I accompanied the boys along the banks of the river for some distance, when they said we must be near the spot; and directly afterwards we saw two creatures, one seated on a fallen trunk on the top of the cliff, gazing out over the stream. I examined them with my glass, which I then handed to David.

“Those are baboons,” he said. “Their faces more resemble those of dogs than of monkeys; and hideous-looking monsters they are. It was fortunate you boys did not encounter them. You must take care and not go unarmed so far from our Castle.”

“I should say they were nearly as large as gorillas.”

“Now the sun is shining on them, I can see their huge black faces. That big fellow on the trunk has a hide of reddish brown colour, though his head is shaded with light red, and his limbs are of a fawn colour. He is, I suspect, the Gynocephalus anerbis. See! he is sitting down, scowling round him maliciously, as if in search of an enemy, or meditating on his own bad deeds. They always move over the ground on all fours, and often descend in numbers on a plantation, and carry off all the fruits they can lay hands on. We must take care to keep them at a distance, for from what I have heard they are as daring as the gorilla, and, though not so powerful, more mischievous.”

“Let us see if we cannot frighten them,” said Leo; and before we could stop him, he rushed out, clapping his hands and shrieking loudly.

The baboons gazed at us with looks of astonishment, when several others, scrambling out from the neighbouring rocks, assembled in a body. They seemed to be consulting together whether they should advance, when Leo and Natty again shouted. This seemed to decide them; and they began, instead of running away, to approach us in a menacing attitude. I now saw it was time to fire. I took aim, and hit the leader. He stopped for an instant, and, giving forth a loud cry between a bark and a roar, turned round, and with his companions made off into the rugged country up the river. I must say I was very glad thus to be rid of them; for although I had often seen baboons in captivity, when I thought them disgusting-looking creatures, in their wild state as they had just exhibited themselves they looked ferocious and terrible in the extreme.

David told us they often go hunting in packs like wolves, and on those occasions do not hesitate to attack the largest wild animals. Sometimes they will assault even elephants, while they without hesitation encounter the leopard and hyena. The leopard, however, retaliates, and when he finds one alone springs on it, and seldom fails to come off the victor.

The mandrills are another species of baboon who inhabit this region. They are remarkable for the brilliancy and variety of their colour. Often their cheeks are striped with violet, scarlet, blue, and purple, which looks not unlike artificial tattooing; the nose is blood-red; the loins, which are almost bare, are of a violet-blue colour, gradually verging into a bright blood-red; the tail is short, and carried erect. Though very fierce in their wild state, they are more easily tamed than the other baboons. I had seen one in a London menagerie, who went by the name of Jelly, and who really knew how to behave himself, as he could sit upon a chair, and drink out of a pewter can, and smoke a pipe as if he enjoyed it.

Every day we met with various small monkeys in whole troops, skipping about the trees, and looking down upon us wherever we went. Kate was much alarmed when she heard of the boys’ encounter with the baboons, and entreated them in future not to go from the Castle without a third person well-armed.

“But,” said Leo, “give me a gun or Stanley’s pistols, and I will fight as well as anybody.”

“And I will back him up,” said Natty.

“Yes; but Leo might miss the wild beast, and you might hit Leo, and so I am afraid you would have a very unsatisfactory account to give of yourself when you got home,” said Stanley.

“By which observation, Captain Hyslop, I conclude you are descended from an Irishman,” observed Senhor Silva; “for if Natty was to kill Leo, and a wild beast was to carry off Natty, I do not see how they could come and give an account of themselves.”

“Had poor Terence O’Brien uttered the expression, I should not have been surprised,” said Kate, laughing at her brother. “But I hope such a dreadful event will not occur, and that Leo and Natty will be content not to make use of firearms till they are a little more accustomed to them.”

“There I have you, sister,” said Stanley. “How are they to be accustomed to them unless they use them? Well, as we are brother and sister, it is not surprising that you should make such a remark; and I believe our dear mother comes from Ireland, which I suppose will fully account for the same. However, in my opinion, the sooner the boys learn to use firearms, under the circumstances in which we are placed, the better. It is very important that boys should learn to swim, ride, and row, if they are to go out into the world. I must give them regular shooting lessons. They will then be able to use their guns to advantage when called upon to do so.”

As soon as breakfast was over we hurried down to the canoe. The outside was now completed, and there was ample work for all hands in cutting out the inside. We commenced with axes, clearing away as much of the wood as we could. When this was done, we lighted a fire. We had some pieces of bar iron: these were made red hot, and we were thus able to smooth away the parts the axe could not so well reach.

Chapter Seven.

We make the Acquaintance of our Neighbours.

We were working away at the canoe: the boys keeping the fire up; the rest of us heating the irons and burning out the inside; Jack amusing himself and us by singing a sea-song to the tune of “Come, cheer up, my lads;” while Chickango was indulging himself in shouting a native ditty of which we could neither make out the words nor very clearly the tune,—it had reference, I fancy, to our canoe-building, to which he was wishing all manner of success. Suddenly a loud, trumpeting sound saluted our ears; and looking round to ascertain whence it came, we saw far away in the forest a huge elephant, which we naturally concluded had been attracted by our voices. He stood whisking his ears and holding his trunk out in a somewhat threatening manner. Our guns stood against the trees at some little distance. Chickango gave a warning shout.

“Hide behind the trees, or climb up the nearest you can reach,” said Senhor Silva.

Stanley seemed in no way disposed to follow this advice, but rushed to his gun.

“Come, boys! come with me,” cried Jack, “and we will be up a tree.”

Timbo followed Jack and the two boys. Jack sprang up to a low bough of a tree, and then, stooping down, with Timbo’s aid helped up the boys. David had some time before this gone back to the Castle to remain with his sisters. Senhor Silva also seized his gun, and ran off to a distance. Chickango rushed behind a stout tree; whilst I, seizing my weapon, stood by Stanley’s side. Just then I recollected that it was only loaded with small shot, which, of course, would not have been of the slightest avail against the monstrous animal. Again the elephant sent forth a loud trumpeting, and rushed towards us. Stanley took aim and fired, but whether the animal was struck or not we could not tell: at all events, it came rushing on furiously towards us.

“Fly behind a tree!” cried my cousin, suiting the action to the word; but the elephant had his eye fixed on me, and scarcely had I reached the trunk of the one I had selected when he was close to me on the other side. Confused by the fearful noise he made, I knew not which way to turn. He seemed in no way disposed to quit me. He kept dodging round and round the tree. “Run to the next tree!” I heard Stanley cry out. “You may get up it and escape him!” Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that the boughs were low down, and being a good climber, I had fair hopes of success. It seemed my only prospect of escaping a fearful death. I watched my opportunity, and when the elephant was on the other side of the big tree, I ran to the next, and springing to a bough, caught it, and soon swung myself up to the next. He caught sight of me, however, shrieking and trumpeting with rage. Even now I did not feel that I was out of his reach. I had just time to scramble up to the boughs above my head, when he was close under the tree. As I did so my cap fell off. I knew that the animal could reach to a great height with his trunk, and did not feel secure till I had clambered up to one still higher. I was then able to look down on my assailant, when I saw that he had seized my cap as it fell; and that probably saved my leg being seized by his trunk, for he could without difficulty have reached it. I could only hope that my cousin would in the meantime be able to reload and kill the creature.

I looked round, but could not see him. Presently I observed two young elephants coming out of the bush, when the old one, giving a glance up at me to see that I was safe, ran towards them and began fondling them with his trunk; the infant monsters (for they were as big as cart horses) returning his caresses with their own proboscises. What had become of my friends I could not tell. Every instant I expected to hear the sound of Stanley’s rifle, but it was silent. I now began to fear that some accident had happened to him, for I was very sure that he would not have deserted me. Jack and the boys were, I hoped, safe; and I knew that the blacks could very well take care of themselves. At all events, I thought, Senhor Silva will return—though, to be sure, he is no sportsman, and may not wish to encounter the elephant. By degrees the elephant’s anger seemed to abate, and he stood whisking his tail and flapping his ears, playing with his young charges. Still I knew very well that should I venture down, his anger would revive, and he would rush at me as before. I determined, therefore, to wait patiently till my friends could come to my rescue.

As I was looking round, trying to discover where Jack and the boys had got to, I saw the head of a negro moving among the brushwood. I thought it must be that of Chickango; but presently I caught sight of another and then another creeping along like serpents, now moving slowly, now more rapidly. I concluded that their leader had his eye on the elephant, as whenever he stopped they stopped, so that they could scarcely be distinguished on the ground. Each man carried a large spear in his hand. They increased in numbers, approaching from all quarters. It was evident that they had tracked the elephant, and at length closed in on him. They were fierce-looking warriors, and I could only hope that they might prove friendly, as from their numbers they would have been awkward people to deal with as enemies. I expected every moment that the elephant would discover them, for I thought, by the way he stopped and looked about, that he was aware that danger was near. The hunters, however, remained perfectly still, and I could scarcely have believed that some fifty or more human beings were close to me, ready in an instant to spring up into active exertion. I anxiously watched their proceedings, keeping my eye on the man I supposed to be their leader. Once more I saw him stealthily moving on; then suddenly springing up from behind a tree, he darted his spear with tremendous force right into the elephant’s neck, and before the creature could look round, had again disappeared behind the tree. The young elephants had caught sight of their assailants, but instead of flying, rushed up again to their guardian, one of them intertwining its trunk round his neck. And now from every side the hunters started up. Spear after spear was darted into the elephant’s back, till it literally bristled with shafts. Whenever the creature turned round, he was met by new assailants, while the young ones were meantime untouched. The hunters probably knew that they would fall easy victims when their guardian was killed. The poor creature turned round and round, apparently to defend its young charges from the spears of its assailants. Its life-blood was now flowing fast. When the blacks observed this, they continued to plunge more and more weapons into his body. The young ones turned round, and, I thought, cast reproachful, if not angry, glances at the assailants of their guardian. Fresh hunters kept coming up, and discharging their weapons, again retreated under shelter. At length the poor elephant could no longer move. Its huge head and trunk fell slowly down, then sinking on his knees, fell gradually over on one side. The poor young elephants were quickly despatched; and the hunters came rushing up, shouting and singing over their prizes. The chief then stuck a club into the ground, with a hideous-looking figure carved on the top of it. On this they all joined hands and began dancing and shouting more furiously than before, going round and round their prey. The chief and others then brought pieces of the meat, which they placed before the idol. This I now knew to be a fetish, as all idols as well as charms are called throughout Negro-land. I was afraid every instant that I should be seen. Hitherto there had been little risk of that, as they were all so eagerly engaged in their assault on the elephant. I supposed that my friends must have seen the hunters; at all events their loud shouts would now make their presence known.

Presently one of the hunters looking up caught sight of me in the tree. I thought he would have fallen back with astonishment. The spear he was holding in his hand dropped to the ground, his hand sank by his side, and he kept gazing up, rolling the large white balls of his eyes round and round as if he was going off in a fit. His exclamation drew the attention of his companions to me. Many of them seemed as much astonished, exhibiting their surprise in various grotesque ways. What they took me for I could not tell; probably some strange animal or a spirit of the woods. The latter was, I believe, the case. I made signs to them that I wished to be their friend, putting my hand out as if to shake theirs, and then began slowly to descend the tree. Still they did not seem to have made up their minds whether they would wish for a nearer acquaintance. I tried to explain to them, however, that I had got up the tree to avoid the elephant, and as they had killed it, for which I was much obliged to them, I could now come down without fear. Whether they understood my signs I could not tell, but by degrees I saw that their fears were somewhat quelled. Stopping at each branch to make signs, I at length reached the lowest, when once more stretching out my hand I dropped to the ground, and, in as composed a way as I could, walked into their midst. They possibly had never seen a white man before, and looked at me with as much astonishment as an European who had never heard of the existence of negroes would have looked at them. They now crowded round me, and began to examine my dress. Some put their hands on my face and rubbed it, as if expecting the white colour to come off. Others examined my hands, while one fierce-looking fellow poked his fingers through my hair.

Familiarity, it is said, breeds contempt; and when I found that they were making these advances, I feared that, instead of looking upon me as some superior being as they at first did they might at length ill-treat me. One of them found my cap, which the elephant had thrown to the ground. After examining it and putting it on my head, he instantly pulled it off again and clapped it on his own woolly pate. The chief hunter next seemed disposed to take possession of my jacket. I knew it would not do to show any signs of fear, so rushing at the man who had taken my cap, I seized it from his head and held it tightly in one hand, while I resisted the efforts of the chief to draw off my coat. Having satisfied their curiosity for the present, they at length left me alone, and returned to the carcases of the elephants.

Their first care was to cut off the tusks of the old elephant which were of great size. This done, they gave vent to their exultation in loud shouts, and then set to work to cut up the flesh. They seemed to prefer the young ones, the flesh of which was divided among the whole party. They next assailed the larger beast, when each man was loaded with as much as he could carry. This work occupied some time.

Considering that it would be wise to take my departure, I was on the point of doing so, when several of the blacks seized me by the arms, and making me understand that I was to accompany them, pointed to a huge piece of elephant flesh, which they signified it would be my duty to carry. This was more than I had bargained for, and I positively refused to go with them. They now began to move off, and two or three attempted to drag me along. I shouted at the top of my voice, resisting with all my power, “Help!—help!—Jack!—Timbo!—Chickango!” I had got some way, and was afraid I should be carried off as a captive, when I heard a shout at a little distance, and presently saw Timbo and Chickango running towards us. They were followed by Jack, Stanley, and David, the two boys bringing up the rear. The hunters, when they saw my friends advancing, faced about, looking at them with glances of astonishment. I heard them all talking together, seemingly asking each other who these strangers could be. They had recovered their spears, which, still red with the blood of the elephants, they held in their hands, ready to dart at Timbo and Chickango. Seeing this, my friends halted, and placing their muskets on the ground, held up their hands as a sign of peace, addressing their countrymen, who quickly replied, turning their glances every now and then at me. Again Timbo spoke to them, and this time with greater effect than at first. The expressions of anger and fear which I had observed in their countenances gradually wore off, and they looked with a more kindly expression towards me. Presently they turned the points of their spears to the ground, when my two friends advancing, took the chief by the hand, and immediately those who held me brought me to the front. Chickango, who had taken up the thread of the discourse, went on speaking very vehemently, and advancing, led me out of the throng. Timbo immediately seized my hand. “Go away—quick now, Massa Andrew. Perhaps dey change deir mind. See! here come de captain and Senhor Silva, and de t’ree young gentlemen. Dese niggers t’ink you white spirit, and no dare hurt you.”

By this time the rest of our party had come up, and great was the surprise of the hunters when Senhor Silva addressed them in a language they could understand. I do not know exactly what account he gave of us, but the result was that we were all in a short time shaking hands, and apparently the best of friends. They even begged that we would accept of some of the flesh of the elephants they had killed—to be sure it was part of what they themselves could not carry off. Our new friends now invited us to visit them at their village, which was situated on the summit of a hill about four or five miles off, but so surrounded by woods that we had not seen it.

From their wild looks and manners, we were not sorry when at length they took their departure. Timbo called them Bakelés, and gave no very flattering description of them. We were thankful that they had not caught sight of our canoe. They might prove friendly, but should they, as was possible, attempt to molest us, it might be advisable to leave their neighbourhood, when we should certainly have a better chance of escaping by water than by land.

“Then we had better have another craft built without delay,” observed Jack, who heard Stanley make a remark to this effect. “And now that we know how to set about it, we should get another built much quicker than the last.”

On reaching the Castle we found the young ladies greatly alarmed at our absence. Senhor Silva, it appeared, had rushed back and called out David, telling him to come without delay to our assistance. Some of us were up trees, besieged by an elephant, and he could not tell what had become of the captain and the rest of us. Stanley had, it appeared, lost his bag of bullets, and had made off to where we were working at the canoe to find them. This had prevented him from firing at the elephant; and not being able to find his ammunition, he also had gone back to the Castle, from which he found David issuing with a rifle and some bullets. Soon afterwards they were met by Timbo and Chickango, who also had observed the approach of the hunters, and had advised them not to show themselves till the elephant was killed and they were in good humour after their victory. Jack and the boys had in the meantime remained up the tree, and, like me, had been watching all that was taking place. When they saw that I was made prisoner, they had slipped down, and, unperceived, had hastened to the Castle for assistance. Kate, on hearing the account given of the savages, strongly urged us to commence our journey without delay to the south.

“But you see, miss,” observed Jack, “it will take us some time to build another boat, and it may be that we shall become good friends with these people before then. Timbo says that if we know how to manage them, we shall be able to get on very well, and maybe we shall do them a good turn, and they will help us.”

Our first canoe was now completed, and we lost no time in commencing a second.

“It would be as well, I think,” said Senhor Silva, “after we have cut down another tree, to take the bull by the horns, and visit these people at once. If we show confidence in them they are less likely to injure us, and, at all events, we can be on our guard against any treachery they may meditate. I know these native tribes well. If we show that we do not fear them and are prepared to resist aggression, they will seldom venture on an attack.”

The knowledge that we had a number of natives in our neighbourhood, who might possibly be evil-affected, greatly changed the sense of security we had hitherto enjoyed. Although, as far as we were aware, they had not found out the Castle, they might do so at any moment, and come and attack us. We agreed, therefore, never to leave it in future without defenders. We accordingly formed ourselves into two parties. While one went out hunting, or exploring, or working at the canoe, the other was to remain in the fortress for its protection.

Stanley, who always considered it best to meet danger in the face, or, as our Portuguese friend had said, “to take the bull by the horns,” was anxious forthwith to pay a visit to our neighbours. He begged Senhor Silva to accompany him, and chose myself and Chickango to be of the party; while David, Timbo, and Jack, with the two boys, were left to protect the young ladies. To increase the strength of our fort, we had driven stout poles all round it, and formed what Jack called ports along the walls, through which our muskets could be fired.

“Do not be afraid, Stanley,” said Leo, as we were preparing to set off. “If the blacks come, we will render a good account of them. Natty and I can now fire a musket as well as any of you, and we have been teaching Kate and Bella. We will beat them off, depend on it.”

“I do not think the blacks will come,” said Natty; “but if they do, I think we ought to fight. There is no doubt about that.”

Natty was always more quiet in his remarks than his friend, but I felt sure there was quite as much mettle in him. With our guns on our shoulders, our friends cheering us, we marched down the hill towards the negro village. Senhor Silva had brought a couple of swords, one of which he wore, and the other Stanley had girded to his side, while Chickango and I carried spears. Stanley had in addition his pistols stuck in his belt. Altogether we presented a tolerably warlike appearance, sufficient, we hoped, to make the savages treat us with respect. After proceeding for some distance we found a native path, which, Chickango said, led to the village. He and I by this time were able to converse pretty well, I having learned some of his language, and he having picked up a good many words of English. We did not always, to be sure, understand what each other said, but we made out our meaning by signs when words failed us. An open space at the foot of the hill, where plantains were growing, showed us that we were near the village, though it was so completely concealed by trees that not till we were actually at the gates did we discover it. It consisted of a long street of huts, the doors facing each other, with the blank walls on the outside; very similar indeed to those we had constructed, though ours was on a much smaller scale. At each end were gates, which were now left open. Several men came rushing out, with their spears poised, as we approached, but on Chickango addressing them, they lowered their weapons, and gave us a friendly greeting. Their skins were somewhat lighter than the coast natives. They were a tolerably good-looking race for Africans. Their only dress was a piece of matting worn round the loins, and their ornaments, necklaces formed of the teeth of wild animals, and rings round their arms and legs. The women whom we saw had a number of these rings, while their hair was dressed in various ways with no little care. Nearly all the people had, slung over their shoulders, a grass-cloth bag or purse, very neatly made, in which they carried various articles. The chief had neat grass-cloth mats spread for us, and taking his seat on one, he begged us to sit down on the others. Senhor Silva then presented him with some tobacco, greatly to his delight, and be instantly produced some well-carved pipes, when, fire being brought, he commenced smoking with evident satisfaction. It is curious that savages in both the eastern and western hemispheres should so delight in the much-abused weed. As we sat smoking the calumet of peace—for such we hoped it would prove—the chief informed us that he had been residing at that spot about a couple of years, but added: “I fear we shall soon have to move towards the coast, for already we hear that the fierce Pangwes are advancing in this direction; and unless you white men will help us, we cannot hope to oppose them.” He described the Pangwes as a terrible people, and great warriors. “It is said that they eat up all the enemies they kill,” he added, shuddering as he spoke. “Such may be our fate; for as they come not only in hundreds but in thousands, we cannot hope to withstand them.”

Senhor Silva replied, that although we, as visitors to their country, could not interfere in their quarrels, yet we should be glad to negotiate with their enemies should they make their appearance.

The chief laughed at the notion. “You might as well attempt to turn the torrent of yonder river,” he answered, “as to try and induce the savage Pangwes to turn aside from any undertaking on which they have resolved. There is only one thing they understand, and that is the argument which your muskets can hold. If you wish to aid us, you must come with them and plenty of ammunition, and you may then make the Pangwes turn aside to some other district.”

I need not further describe our interview, but it ended in a most satisfactory manner, the Bakelés promising to be our friends, and to help us should we require their aid. Having concluded our visit, we took our leave, and commenced our return homewards. As we made our way through the forest we saw vast numbers of apes playing about the trees, and kept a bright look-out on either side lest we should come suddenly upon a lion or leopard—an animal still more to be dreaded, on account of the distance it can spring. We trusted to the guidance of Chickango, for alone I doubt whether we should have been able to find our way. As we were moving along, suddenly, from among the leaves of a palm, I caught sight of an odd-looking face peering out at us, and apparently examining us with much curiosity. The nose was white, and a thick fringe of white hair surrounded the cheeks. The face was black, and the body was of a dark colour, stunted hair covering the top of the head. I could not help bursting out into a fit of laughter at the odd look of the creature, for it reminded me of an old woman. It was unlike any ape I had before seen. Hearing the noise, it turned up its eyes with a look of astonishment, and then springing to the nearest branch, ran off, twirling its long tail, into the depths of the forest. As we agreed not to kill any animal uselessly, we let it go without firing a shot; for we were too far off from home to carry it with us. It would have been useless to collect objects of natural history, except very small ones, as we could not have conveyed them with us on the long journey we expected soon to make.

We were slowly making our way through the forest, keeping our guns ready to fire at a moment’s notice, when, in the thick shade of some closely growing trees, we caught sight of another huge ape, with a young one by its side. At the first glance I fancied it was a gorilla, but the second showed me that it was a differently formed animal, and not nearly so large as that monster of the woods. The mother and infant were gambolling together; the young one tumbling head over heels, then leaping on its mother’s shoulders, then rolling about the ground, while she turned it over and over, apparently to the little creature’s great delight. We all stopped, and concealing ourselves behind some thick brushwood, watched the creatures.

“There you see a very curious animal,” said Senhor Silva to me. “That is what you call in Europe a chimpanzee.”

The old animal had an intensely black face, while that of its young one was yellow. It was between four and five feet in height. Suddenly it stood up on its legs and walked a few paces, stooping somewhat like an old man. The position it assumed enabled it to look at us, when, with a sudden cry, it seized its young one in its arms, and sprang up the nearest tree, exhibiting a wonderful agility. I should have had no heart to shoot the creature, and I was glad to see Stanley, though he instinctively lifted his piece to his shoulder, drop it again.

“No,” he said; “we must let the mother and child live. David must go without the specimen. We could not carry even the skin home, and one young monkey as a pet is enough. So Master Chico shall have no rival.”

We had not gone far when we met with two paths leading through the thickest part of the forest, both of which we concluded would conduct us homeward.

“If you and Chickango will take one, Senhor Silva and I will take the other,” said Stanley. “We shall have better prospect of sport, and two guns are sufficient to contend with either lions or panthers.”

We accordingly separated, I taking the path to the right.

When passing through an African forest, it is necessary for a man to keep his eyes about him in every direction. The path I was following led to an open space, which had been used as a plantation by the natives, I guessed, by finding a few plantains growing on it. Passing across it, we discovered another path, which led further into the forest. “Dis no man path,” observed Chickango. “Elephant make it.” I had no doubt he was right from the appearance of the opening, the boughs on either side being broken down, and the ground being trampled by the feet of large animals. Though I might have been somewhat proud of “bagging” an elephant, as Stanley would have called it, I had no great wish to encounter one. Still, as from the direction I judged the path to take, by observing the way the sun’s rays penetrated the thick foliage, I thought it would lead us homeward, I did not like to turn back. We therefore proceeded along it. Elephants are tolerable road-makers, as wherever they can get through an army may follow.

We went on for about an hour, till we were in a denser forest than I had yet seen. Creepers innumerable hung down from the boughs, twisting round them, and forming a complete network in all directions; while huge fern-leaved plants covered the ground, waving gracefully above our heads. We were in a complete labyrinth of shrubs, plants, and creepers, out of which alone I could certainly never have extricated myself. “No fear, me find a way,” said Chickango, “while sun up,” and he pointed to a small opening above our heads, through which the sky could be seen. We went on a little way; but it appeared to me that we were getting more and more involved in the mazes of the forest. I looked at Chickango. He had always been faithful. I could not suppose that he now intended treachery; and yet could he have had any private communication with the natives we had been visiting, and agreed to deliver the white men dead or alive into their hands? I was following close behind him, for often there was not room for us to walk two abreast, I should say to creep rather, in and among the underwood. Suddenly he turned round and touched me on the arm, making a significant gesture to be silent. Then he crept slowly on, crouching down close to the ground. I followed his example as well as I could, though it was difficult to get on in that attitude. Presently he stopped, as did I, behind the crooked trunk of a half-dead tree, and listening, I heard a loud flapping noise as if some machinery were at work. Then rising a little from my cover, I observed a high brown back, looking like some vast mound among the foliage. It soon began to move, and the head and ears of an enormous elephant came into view. It appeared to me that the creature’s eye was turned towards us. If so, I could not but expect that he would quickly come to ascertain who were the pigmy intruders into his domain. Chickango kept crouching down watching the creature. I fancied I heard a noise on my left side, and glancing in that direction, I saw another huge head with a trunk lifted above it. Had I been an experienced hunter, I might have known how to act. I was afraid of speaking and asking Chickango what he advised, lest the elephant might hear us. Even now I could not but suppose that we were perceived. Presently Chickango sprang to his feet and took aim at the creature’s head. I expected to see it roll over, but some white splinters which flew from an intervening branch told me that the bullet had been turned aside, though I fancied even then it must have struck the animal. Instantly its trunk was lifted up, and, with a tremendous trumpeting which made the forest ring, and a loud tramping of his heavy feet, he dashed towards us. I felt that our lives depended upon the accuracy of my aim. It was my first shot at an elephant, and let any one fancy how the mighty animal must appear in a rage, and it may be supposed that my aim was not likely to be very steady. I fired when he was about a dozen paces off. A practised sportsman might have waited longer. If my bullet took effect it did not stop his charge, for on he came directly at us. Chickango sprang on one side. I attempted to follow his example by springing on the other. As I did so my gun caught in a creeper, which suddenly whisked it from my hand. I dared not stop to recover it. The creature’s huge tusks were aimed at me, I thought, and I expected the next instant to be pierced through or crushed to death, or to find myself tossed high in air by his trunk; but, blind with rage, and somewhat puzzled by two enemies, he ran his trunk against the stump of the tree with such force as to pierce the rotten wood through and through. Over it came with a crash; but so firmly fixed, that for a moment he could not shake it off, while the dust from the rotten wood fell into his eyes. His companion, meantime, was trumpeting away furiously, and advancing towards us, but Chickango and I were concealed from him by the thick wood. Other trumpetings were heard at the same time, which showed us that he had other companions besides the one we had seen. I had not forgotten the way I had escaped the previous day, and glancing round, I saw a thick-stemmed tree directly behind me. I darted round it; while Chickango concealed himself behind another. Our assailant, meantime, disconcerted by the piece of the tree still clinging to his tusks, went crashing on through the underwood till he had got to a considerable distance from us. His nearest companion, fortunately a female, followed him. “Load, massa, load!” cried Chickango to me. Alas! I dared not move to recover my gun, and felt that my only chance of safety till I could do so and reload was to keep behind the tree. The male elephant, having cleared his tusks of the rotten wood, lifted up his trunk, and began trumpeting away as a signal of defiance, which was echoed by his other companions in the neighbourhood. Chickango advanced towards him cautiously as before. Once more he lifted his weapon and fired; but, to my horror, I saw the creature again dash forward. The black, though a bad shot, was active of foot, and sprang behind a tree. The other elephant now came rushing forward; while at the same moment I heard another trumpeting sound close behind me, and saw, to my dismay, the vast heads of numerous male elephants, their huge tusks and trunks towering above the underwood. The various movements I had made brought me back to the neighbourhood of the spot where the elephant had made his first charge, when I caught sight of my gun at a little distance. I dashed forward and seized it. The attempt was dangerous, for the elephants were coming towards me. In doing so I lost sight of Chickango; but I was sure from his previous conduct that he would not desert me. I again retreated towards the nearest large trunk I could see, though all the intervening space, it must be understood, was filled with fallen trees, and creepers, and saplings, intertwined as I have before described. To stay there, however, I saw would be more dangerous than to take to flight, as with so many assailants, sagacious and cunning in the extreme, I should at once have been surrounded; and as to climbing a tree, as I had before done, that was impossible, as no branches were within reach. I had no time either to reload my piece. I therefore ran, or rather I scrambled, among the boughs as fast as I could get along. Probably it was fortunate my gun was not loaded, as I could scarcely have prevented the lock catching in the creepers through which I made my way. For some seconds I thought the creatures were at fault, for I saw them standing still, looking about for me. It was sharp work. I did not profess to be an elephant hunter, but I could not help feeling that I was, at all events, now being hunted by the elephants. Still I persevered, but I dreaded every moment to find myself caught by a creeper, or my head in a noose, and then to see the monsters rush towards me.

The big elephant and his companion whom I had at first met with now again espied me, and, trumpeting and shrieking, came dashing through the woods towards me, tearing down the branches, and trampling the young saplings under foot. Once I stopped and began to load my gun, but again the elephants advanced, and I feared that I should not have time to do so before they were upon me. I continued to retreat in the same uncomfortable way as before, scrambling over the fallen trunks, and expecting to see every moment a huge boa, or some venomous snake, dart out from among them. I was thus scrambling on, endeavouring to increase my speed, when one of the dangers I dreaded occurred. I slipped, and my foot catching in a creeper, held me firmly, while I fell forward amid the tangled mass of creepers, out of which I could by no efforts release myself. I struggled in vain. The trumpetings and cries of the elephants sounded loudly in my ears. Just as I had given myself up for lost, a shot whistled over my head. The nearest animal staggered forward till he was within half-a-dozen paces of me. Another and another shot followed. One of them appeared to have been equally successful with the first, for another elephant, turning round as if to move off, sank hopelessly on the ground. Loud shouts followed, and presently I saw my cousin and Senhor Silva forcing their way through the forest, while Chickango darted out from behind a tree where he had taken post, and fired, just at the moment to save my life. The other elephants, frightened by the sound, lifted up their trunks and rushed back into the forest, the crashing sound of falling boughs and the loud tramp of their feet showing the direction they had taken.

Two male elephants with fine tusks, and a cow, were the result of our adventure. The tusks were too valuable to be left, so we immediately set to work to cut them from the heads of the animals.

“Pity Bakelés no know of dis,” said Chickango. “Dey come and have great feast, and t’ank us.”

Stanley and our Portuguese friend told me that they had been directed towards the spot on hearing our first shot, and that then the trumpeting of the elephants had reached their ears. This had made them hurry forward to our assistance. I was thankful that they had arrived thus opportunely, or I believe that my adventures in Africa would have been terminated. The weight of the tusks was considerable. We slung them, however, on two poles, and carried them between us, though darkness had set in before we reached the Castle, and we felt not a little anxious lest some lurking wild beast might spring out on us—an event very likely to happen in an African forest at night. We, however, reached home in safety, and gave an account of our adventures. Our visit to the Bakelés village excited great interest; but when I came to describe our adventure with the elephants, I saw Kate and Bella’s colour go.

“Oh, Andrew!” exclaimed Kate, “how dreadful it would have been had the elephants reached you! How providential it was that Stanley and Senhor Silva arrived in time to save your life!”

David and his sister both expressed a wish to visit the Bakelés.

“I am not quite certain that that would be wise,” observed Stanley. “At present they look upon us as a party of warriors who may be gone to-morrow; but if they see young people, they will think we have come to settle, and may perhaps be disposed to try and get rid of us.”

Kate was very glad to hear that we had let the chimpanzee go.

“I wish, though, that you had brought the young one home; we could very well have taken care of it, and Chico would like to have a playmate,” exclaimed Bella.

“Possibly Chico and Chim might have quarrelled instead of played together,” observed Senhor Silva; “and I suspect you will find Chico sufficient to look after.”

Senhor Silva, though accustomed to the climate, was not so strong as most of us, and the morning after our long expedition he was unable to rise from his couch. David said he had a bad attack of fever; and as the day wore on, he became delirious, and caused us great anxiety. He had endeared himself to us by his kind and unpresuming manners; besides which we knew that he would be very useful in enabling us to travel through the country—indeed, without his aid the difficulties of accomplishing the journey would be very great. Anxious as we were, we could not all of us remain at home. David therefore stayed behind with the two girls to attend on our sick friend, and Stanley begged me to accompany him on a shooting expedition with Chickango, while Jack, Timbo, and the two boys continued working on the second canoe. We were anxious to shoot some pigeons and small game for our larder; though I suspect Stanley would have been better pleased to come across some of the larger animals of the forest. We had bagged a good many birds, when a beautiful little gazelle came bounding across our path. It put me in mind of an Italian greyhound, only it had a longer neck and was somewhat larger. I was quite sorry when Chickango, firing, knocked it over. It was, however, a welcome addition to our game bag. He called it Ncheri. It was the most elegant little creature I met with in Africa among the numberless beautiful animals which abound in the regions we passed through.

We were at the time proceeding along the foot of a hill. Scarcely had he fired, when a loud trumpeting was heard, and directly afterwards we saw a negro rushing through the underwood, followed by a huge elephant. “Up! up the hill!” cried Chickango, suiting the action to the word. I followed, for as we were wishing to kill birds alone, my gun was loaded only with small shot. The elephant made towards us. The negro stranger came bounding on. Chickango and I had got some way up the hill, but Stanley, who stood his ground, was engaged in ramming home a bullet. The elephant had all the time been keeping one eye on the black and one on us. When I thought he was on the point of seizing my cousin, he suddenly turned on his first assailant. The black darted to a tree, when the elephant, seizing him with his trunk, threw him with tremendous force to the ground. This enabled Stanley to spring up after us; and the hill being very steep, with rolling stones, we hoped that we were there safe from the attacks of the now infuriated beast. It cast a glance at the unfortunate black, who was endeavouring to crawl away along the ground. Again the elephant was about to seize him with his trunk, and in an instant would have crushed him to death, when Stanley, raising his gun, fired, and struck the creature in the most vulnerable part—behind the ear. The ball must have entered the brain, for, sinking down instantly, it rolled over, and, we thought, must have killed the black by its weight. We hurried down, hoping that there might yet be time to save the poor fellow’s life, regardless at the moment of our victory, which, with hunters in general, would have been a cause of triumph. As we got round, we found that the black had narrowly escaped being crushed to death; indeed, as it was, his legs appeared to lie almost under the monster’s back. We drew him out, however, and to our satisfaction found that he was still breathing. Chickango said that he belonged to the Bakelés, and was probably a chief hunter among them. As, however, we were much nearer our own abode than their village, Stanley and I agreed to carry him with us, somewhat, I fancied, to Chickango’s astonishment. “Oh! he black fellow, he die; what use carry?” he remarked. Of course we kept to our own opinion, hoping that with David’s skill the poor man might recover. He was unable to speak, and was indeed apparently unconscious.

“Had my rifle been loaded with ball, I should have saved that poor fellow the last fearful crush; and in future we must not go without one or two of our fowling-pieces loaded with ball,” observed Stanley, ramming down a bullet into his rifle.

Chickango and I did the same. We then constructed a rough litter, on which we placed the injured negro. We bore him along, my cousin and Chickango carrying the head and I the feet part of the litter. We found the weight considerable, especially over the rough ground we had to traverse, but the life of a fellow-creature depended upon our perseverance. Chickango carefully noted the spot where the elephant lay, that we might return as soon as possible for some of the meat and the tusks, which were very large. We reached the spot where our friends were cutting out the canoe just as they were about to leave it, and we were thankful to have their assistance in carrying the stranger. Kate got a great fright seeing us coming, thinking that one of our party had been killed. David instantly applied himself to examining the hurts of the negro. He found that his left arm had been broken, and the ribs on the same side severely crushed. “The injuries might be serious for a European,” he observed; “but the blood of an African, unheated by the climate, escapes inflammation, and I have hopes that he may recover.” Senhor Silva had recovered his senses, though still very weak, and when I went to see him, he expressed his gratitude for the attention with which David and the young ladies had treated him. Chickango was very eager to set out immediately, in order to bring in the elephant’s tusks and some meat, but Stanley considered that it was too late in the day, and put off the expedition till the following morning.

We were somewhat later in starting than we had intended—Jack and Timbo accompanying Stanley, Chickango, and I. We carried baskets and ropes, to bring with us the ivory and a supply of meat. On reaching the spot, however, where the huge monster lay, we found that others had been before us. The tusks were gone, and a portion of the flesh. Innumerable birds of prey, also, were tearing away at it, or seated on the surrounding trees devouring the pieces they had carried off, while several hyenas, already gorged, crept sulkily away, doubting whether they should attack us or not. The spectacle was almost ghastly, and it showed how soon a mountain of flesh might disappear in that region. Chickango was greatly disappointed, as not a particle of flesh which he could touch remained, while, of course, we regretted the loss of the valuable tusks. On our way back, we caught sight of a number of beautiful little monkeys skipping about in the trees. Chickango called them oshingui. They were the smallest I ever saw. Below the trees where they had their abode ran a small stream; and Chickango told me they were very fond of water, and were never found at a distance from it. On the same trees, and playing with them, were numerous birds, called monkey-birds from their apparent attachment to those creatures. We saw another very beautiful little bird, with an extremely long flowing tail of pure milk-white. It had a crest on its head of a greenish black, and its breast was of the same colour, while lower down the feathers were of an ashy brown. Snow-white feathers on the back rose up, like those of the birds of paradise, to which it had a strong resemblance. Soon after this I saw some creatures on the ground, and catching hold of one of them, I found that it was an enormous ant of a greenish white colour, with a head of a reddish black. The fangs were so powerful that when I put my fingers to them, they literally tore a piece of flesh out.

“Why, these creatures would eat us all up, if we were to encounter them as we did those the other day,” I remarked.

“No fear, massa,” answered Timbo. “Dey no come in same way. Dey no go into house, no climb tree, and only just a few hundred or t’ousand march together.”

It was satisfactory to hear this, for really I felt that should an army invade us, we might have more reason to dread them than the blacks themselves. I was not sorry to miss the elephant flesh, for I had not forgotten the tough morsels we had placed between our teeth when presented to us by the friendly blacks soon after we landed.

Chapter Eight.

Our Adventures on the River.

Our first canoe had been ready to launch for some days, and we were eager to try it. We had, however, to cut a road through the brushwood down to the river’s bank before we could do so. This task accomplished, placing it on rollers, the boys assisting, we easily dragged it down to the water. “There, Master Leo, I told you she would not be lopsided,” exclaimed Jack. “Not she; see! she sits on the water like a duck; and them paddles will send her pretty briskly through it, depend on that.”

We all jumped in, and eagerly paddled about, well pleased with the success of our undertaking. Though capacious, however, it was evident that she would not carry the whole of our party and luggage, and I was glad therefore that our second canoe was nearly completed.

“We will have races!” cried Leo; “Natty shall steer one, and I the other. Won’t it be fun!”

The boys, taking the paddles, showed by the way they handled them that they would soon be able to manage her. They wished, indeed, to start at once down the river, but as it was already getting late, we were compelled to return to the shore. We found a secure place where we could conceal the canoe under some bushes, and having done so, returned homewards. Senhor Silva was somewhat better, and the strange negro had sufficiently recovered to speak. He told Chickango that he belonged, as we supposed, to the village we had visited, that his name was Igubo, and that he had the reputation of being one of the best hunters of the tribe. “And so I am,” he added; “but had it not been for my white friend there, I should have been slain at last by my huge enemy, of whose brothers I have killed so many.” Though he could have had but a glance at Stanley he recognised him at once, and begged Chickango to thank him for saving his life.

The next day the boys were very eager to go out in the canoe. “No, no, young gentlemen, time enough by-and-by,” said Jack. “You come and help Timbo and I to finish off the other, and we will get on with it while the Captain and Mr Crawford take a cruise.”

“But, I say, we have not settled what they are to be called,” exclaimed Leo, as we walked along.

“I have been thinking about that,” said Natty. “What do you say to calling one the Panther, and the other the Leopard? They are proper names for this part of the world.”

“And so would be the Crocodile and Hippopotamus,” said Leo; “and as they are water animals, those names would be more suitable.”

“But they are not pretty names,” argued Natty. “Would not the Giraffe and Gazelle be better?”

“We ought to have got Kate and Bella down to name them,” exclaimed Leo.

“Come, what do you say, Mr Crawford?” said Natty. “Do not you consider the Giraffe and Gazelle are two pretty names?”

“They are prettier than the others,” I replied, “though they are not quite so appropriate perhaps; but as all sorts of names are given to vessels, I do not know why our canoes should not have the prettiest names we can find.”

At last Leo came round to Natty’s opinion, and it was agreed that our two canoes should be called after the names he proposed, the first launched being called the Giraffe. The boys, I saw, were very anxious to accompany us, but still they went away with a good grace with Jack and Timbo. We hoped to obtain a good supply of wild-fowl, and perhaps to shoot some larger game from the banks. Though I had my gun with me, I assisted Chickango in paddling the canoe, while Stanley sat with his gun ready to shoot whatever might appear. We had knocked over a good many wild-fowl, which made us wish that we had a dog with us to bring them out, as we had a good deal of trouble in rowing after them. At length Stanley shot a beautiful flamingo, which went away paddling down the stream at a great rate. We pursued. We were not far from the banks, when suddenly I felt so tremendous a shock, that I thought we must have run on a rock, and immediately afterwards a huge head appeared above the water and dashed towards us. The hippopotamus, for such it was, and a very large one, seized the boat by the gunwale, and threatened to overturn her. At the same moment several other monsters rose with their snouts above the water. I felt that we should have a poor chance of escaping if the canoe was upset, for I thought that the monsters would immediately make at us and tear us to pieces, or swallow us whole, for their mouths seemed large enough to take any one of us down at a gulp. I seized my gun, as did my cousin, who sprang to his feet, and levelled his piece at the monster’s head. “Fire! massa, fire! or he upset boat and kill all we,” cried Chickango, leaping up to the bow of the boat, and holding up his hands with a look of horror. I heard the wood crunching under the creature’s teeth. Stanley, who never lost his presence of mind, balancing himself in the bow of the boat, took aim, and at the moment I expected to find the boat dragged under, and probably we ourselves attacked by the other monsters, he fired. The bullet struck the creature in its most vital part, near the ear, and penetrated the brain. It opened its huge jaws and sank back into the water, beneath which it disappeared, while its companions, alarmed by the report, swam off, leaving us unmolested.

There we were, floating calmly on the stream, and I could scarcely believe that an instant before we were engaged in a fearful encounter. The canoe, however, gave evidence of the power of the creature’s teeth, for part of the gunwale, though it was of considerable thickness, was literally crunched up. Several holes were made in the bottom, through which the water was running. We soon had out our knives and set to work to plug the latter, which we quickly did, before much water had rushed in, and that was soon bailed out with our hats. Our canoe had received too much damage to allow us to continue our voyage, and we therefore paddled back, hoping that we might never again be engaged in a similar adventure.

“You see, young gentlemen, it’s just as well you did not go in the canoe,” observed Jack, when he saw what had happened. “Why, that creature would have bitten you in two if he had caught you in his jaws just as easily as you would crack a nut. It will take us a pretty time to repair this damage. However, it is as well matters are no worse. Take my advice, in future we will go cruising in company, and if a beast like that munches up one canoe, we shall at all events have the other to get home in.”

As most of the next day was spent in repairing the canoe, we did not go off in her. The young ladies I found had become very anxious for a change. Bella complained much of not being allowed to run about outside the Castle by herself.

“Could not you find me some pretty animal to ride upon?” she said. “I have seen many passing along in the distance, and if you could catch a couple you could soon tame them, and then Kate and I could ride about with you wherever you go.”

“What were the animals like?” asked Stanley.

“Something like horses, or perhaps large donkeys, but they galloped along so fast that I could not very well distinguish them,” she answered.

“They must have been zebras or quaggas,” said David; “though, if Bella has seen them, I do not know how we could have missed them.”

“Because we have been up on the height and can look over the country, while you have been either busy inside or down in the valley,” answered Bella. “Is not that a good reason?”

“I am afraid, however, that even if we were to catch a quagga for you, we should have a hard task to tame it,” said David; “but we will try what we can do; perhaps, however, we shall find some other animal which will answer the purpose. What do you think of an ox? They are used more to the south, and make very good steeds, though a little difficult to guide perhaps.”

“I will tell you what!” exclaimed Leo. “If the rest will not go to the south, what do you say to starting off with Natty and I, and we will have an independent expedition, and take Chico with us. Natty and I will paddle and you shall steer, and Chico can sit in the bows and keep a look-out ahead. What do you say to that, old fellow?”

The ape had at that moment entered the room, and walked up to Leo, whom he looked upon as his especial playmate, though he seemed to consider Jack his chief protector.

I was glad to find that Senhor Silva was improving. Our negro guest was also much better, and seemed anxious to return to his people. His wives and children would be looking for him, and he thought he could very well make his way through the forest to his home. David, however, persuaded him to stay a few days longer, till his arm and ribs were properly set.

Two weeks passed away without any unusual occurrence. The other canoe was now finished and ready for launching, but the heat of the weather prevented us from willingly making any exertion, and had it not been for the necessity of procuring food, on many days we should not have left the house. We discovered at a little distance the remains of a deserted village, and outside it grew a number of plantains, as well as pumpkins, and other fruit, which, although not so good as those carefully cultivated, were very valuable. We also found many wild fruits growing in the forest; pine-apples, especially, were very fine, and there were nuts of various sorts. Chickango discovered a quantity of ground or pea-nuts, which, though bitter, and somewhat unpalatable, were very nutritious, and he and Timbo ate them readily.

At length our guest was well enough to take his departure. His two countrymen accompanied him for some distance, and Senhor Silva had generously given him several articles which he valued highly—a few yards of cotton, a knife, and some tobacco were among them. He begged Timbo and Chickango to express his gratitude, and I really believe, from the expression of his countenance, that he felt it.

Two days after this, early in the morning, we were surprised to see him approaching the Castle. I went out to meet him. He took my hands, and looked into my face with an imploring glance, which showed that he was much distressed, and then accompanied me into the Castle. The moment he saw David he ran up to him, and then pointed in the direction of his own home. Then he ran to Leo and Natty, and stroked their heads, as if he was weeping over them. Timbo, who had been in the cook-house, now came out, and having exchanged a few words, Timbo said, “Igubo got home, found children bery ill; want doctor come cure them.”

This was plain enough. “Tell him I will go gladly,” said David; “but either you or Chickango must accompany me to interpret.”

“I will bear you company also,” I said. “I feel sure we can trust to him, but his people may not be so well disposed, and if we all three go armed we may make them respect us.”

Directly breakfast was over we set out, greatly to Igubo’s satisfaction. He hurried along, leading us through elephant tracks, till we reached a path formed by the natives which led to the village. Igubo conducted us immediately to his house, round which a number of people were collected, and inside was a man with his face painted and his hair dressed out with strange ornaments, performing all sorts of antics.

“Dat de fetish man,” said Timbo. “He do no good. He t’ink he enchant de sick children. He one ’postor.”

“Little doubt about that,” I observed; “but we must take care not to offend him. But you tell them that white man’s doctor has come, and that if he will go and carry on his incantations outside we will go inside and try ours, and there can be no doubt that the two working together will produce more effect than one alone.”

“You no t’ink dat, Massa Andrew,” said Timbo, looking up in my face. “No, I only tell dem he go out, we go in. White man know how to cure children better dan de black.”

We found two fine boys about twelve and fourteen years old, both in a raging fever. David, I should have said, had come provided with a few medicines, which he thought most likely to be of use, and he now sent all the people out of the house except the mother of the boys and our friend. “Tell him,” he said to Timbo, “that he must get me some pure water.” This was easily procured from a stream which came rushing down the side of the mountain at no great distance. David gave each of the boys a cooling draught, and made their parents understand that they were to take no food except such as he ordered. He watched by the children till they at length fell into a profound sleep, charging Igubo not to allow anybody to enter the house. David then proposed that we should take a turn through the village, of which we had not seen much on our previous visit. I need not again describe the village. We had not got far when we met several slaves bringing us a number of fowls, some bunches of plantains, and baskets of cassava. These they placed at our feet with a message from the chief to say that we were welcome, for he had heard of our brave deeds. We of course received them, and they were carried to a sort of verandah in front of Igubo’s house, while through Timbo we returned our thanks to the chief. He himself soon afterwards made his appearance, followed by several attendants. Unless by his anklets and necklace, and the rich tattooing on his breast, he was not to be distinguished from the rest of the people. His only clothing was a piece of fine matting, worn round the waist in the form of a kilt.

David was unwilling to leave the boys, and we therefore consented to remain till the following day. They were then somewhat better, but when we proposed going their father entreated that we would remain. David explained that he was wanted at home, that one of our party was sick, and that if Igubo would follow his directions the boys would probably recover.

“Dat’s de bery t’ing dey will not do,” said Timbo. “He say, if you go, de boys go too. We make carriage and take dem.”

“The best thing, probably, that can be done,” said David; and we accordingly agreed to let the boys be brought with us.

The litters were soon constructed, and were by David’s advice covered over thickly with branches of trees, so as completely to shade them from the heat of the sun. Eight stout fellows undertook to carry them, and all things being ready, we bade farewell to the chief, who, however, seemed rather angry at our departure.

“He no good man,” said Timbo, as we came away. “Better go dan stay. I find out he take elephant’s tusks and de meat de oder day, but he no tell us, lest we ask to have dem again.”

We considered it wise not to say anything about the elephant’s tusks, and, glad to get out of the village, we proceeded homewards.

“Whom have you brought?” exclaimed Leo, when he saw us arrive.

When we told him, he and Natty expressed themselves well pleased at having some companions. “We will look after them,” said Leo.

“And I will teach them to read,” exclaimed Natty. “I hope they will not want to be going away, though. We must nurse them in the meantime, and try and get them well.”

“Poor little fellows,” said the ever kind Kate, when she saw them. “We will do all we can for them, though they look very ill.”

The eyes and cheeks of the young negroes were sadly sunk, for fever makes the same ravages in their frames as it does in those of white people. The father, though he saw his boys in safe keeping, still seemed unwilling to leave them. He had done what was quite contrary to the customs of his people, and he told Timbo he was afraid, if he was long absent, that the rest of his family might be ill-treated. He accordingly, after looking affectionately at them, and expressing his thanks to us all, but to David especially, took his departure. I should have said that we brought away the presents made to us, which proved a welcome addition to our bill of fare.

Chapter Nine.

A Flight for Life.

“When are we to see the Giraffe and Gazelle launched, and to have our promised excursion on the river?” asked Kate, the evening after Igubo had left us.

“Oh do, Stanley!” cried Bella. “It is cruel to keep us so long shut up like captive princesses in your Castle, and as the natives are friendly and you can avoid the hippopotami, there can be no danger.”

“The Gazelle is not yet launched,” answered Stanley; “but as soon as she is in the water you can come and see her.”

“Oh, but we should like to see her at once, and help you to launch her,” said Kate. “If you will start to-morrow morning as soon as it is daylight and the air is still cool, we will accompany you.”

The young ladies gained their object, and we were all on foot even before the sun had risen, ready to set out. They would not wait for breakfast, but insisted on carrying provisions and a kettle to boil our tea. David wished to remain to look after his patients, and Senhor Silva was not yet sufficiently strong to bear us company.

“Remember we are to paddle your canoe, girls,” cried Leo; “and Andrew will steer for us; and if Timbo will come with a musket or spear, to do battle with any hippopotami or other river monsters, we will allow him to go also.”

As we had the rollers with which we had launched the other canoe, and the road had already been cut, the labour of dragging the Gazelle to the water was much less than it had been in the former case. We all cheered as she was launched into the water.

“May you bound over the waters of the river as your namesake does over the prairie,” exclaimed Bella; “and carry us safely to the south, there to end your existence in a respected old age!”

“Bravo, Bella!” cried Leo, clapping his hands. “You have uttered my speech to perfection, and now you shall have the pleasure of the first paddle our new craft has made. Come, Andrew, come, Timbo, we will lose no time; we can get back for breakfast.”

The Gazelle floated even more gracefully than her sister canoe. The boys jumped in with their paddles, and Timbo and I holding her to the bank while the ladies stepped in, we followed them, the black taking his place in the bow with another paddle, and I sitting in the stern and steering with a fourth. Chickango and Jack were in the other canoe, and were soon after us.

“Come, let us have a race; we will beat you!” cried Leo, flourishing his paddle; and Natty seconded him, though he saw very well that Timbo and I were really doing most of the work.

We pulled rapidly down the stream, startling numerous birds, some with beautiful plumage, greatly to the delight of Bella. We had not gone far, when a huge head appeared near the bank.

“Oh, what a monster!” exclaimed Bella, shrieking with alarm. “That must be one of those dreadful river-horses which so nearly ate you all up the other day.”

“Oh no; he only nearly bit the boat in two,” said Natty; “and we will not let him come near you now.”

“We will keep out of his way, at all events,” I observed, turning the canoe round.

Stanley just then fired at a water-fowl, and immediately several dark heads rose above the water to see what was the matter, and a huge monster, not hitherto perceived, came rolling off the bank; but he, as well as his companions, quickly disappeared beneath the surface. Remembering what had before occurred, I could not help dreading that one of them might rise up and strike the bottom of our canoe.

“Don’t you think we had better go on shore?” said Bella, looking back on the spot where the river-horses had appeared. “Kate, you will want to be there some time before Stanley, to get the breakfast ready.”

Little Bella’s courage had evidently oozed away. However, as I knew it was possible that one of the hippopotami might strike us, we paddled up the stream as fast as we could go. Soon afterwards I caught sight of another creature resting on a sandbank, with a hideous long snout and a scaly tail and short thick legs. It was a monstrous crocodile.

“Oh do, Andrew, make haste and get on shore!” exclaimed Bella. “What a horrible creature! I did not expect to meet with such monsters.”

I tried to comfort her by assuring her that the crocodile would not attack us, and would more likely swim away than follow us. On landing, we hauled up the canoe, and then commenced collecting sticks for a fire. Kate’s kettle was soon hissing merrily, suspended by a high tripod over the fire, and by the time the provisions were spread, Stanley and his companions had arrived. While we were so engaged, we saw, approaching among the trees, a black man, with a shield on one arm and a spear held in the other hand. His arms and part of his body were tattooed in curious lines. Round his neck he wore a necklace of alligator’s teeth, while his hair was so dressed as to form a long tail behind, and his beard was twisted into two curious horns, which stuck out from his chin. Round his loins was the skin of a wild beast, and at his side a broad short sword in a sheath; a sort of cross-bow hung at his back, with a quiver full of small arrows. Altogether, with the shield and spear I have mentioned, he looked a formidable warrior to those who were not possessed of firearms. The shield, though capable of turning the darts and spears of his equally savage foes, would have availed him little against a modern rifle ball.

Bella eyed the warrior with a glance of terror.

“Do not be afraid,” said Natty, placing himself before her. “Leo and I will fight for you.”

“Yes, even though there were an hundred such fellows,” said Leo. “He looks very different from our friend Igubo. I wonder what he has come for.”

Chickango advancing, a conversation ensued which lasted some minutes. The countenance of the warrior fell. We saw him glancing now over one shoulder, now over the other. Then suddenly he turned, and without uttering another word, ran off as fast as his legs could carry him through the forest. Chickango, who had his rifle in his hand, raised it. Stanley shouted to him not to fire, and while he hesitated, the stranger had darted behind the trees. The black returned, uttering words which, though incomprehensible to us, showed that he was very angry. At length, when somewhat calmed, Timbo, who had been unable himself to understand what was said, learned from him that the stranger was one of a band of Pangwes who were advancing towards the territory of the Bakelés. He had come, apparently unaware that there were inhabitants so near. He had first begun to threaten us with the vengeance of his people should we oppose their progress; but on Chickango telling him that a large number of Bakelés were in the neighbourhood, and that, should his people venture to come that way, they would speedily be driven back and destroyed, he had become alarmed, and so, in spite of his boasting, afraid of being captured, had taken to flight. Still the account which Chickango gave of these Pangwes made us very anxious. The people of his tribe, he said, had for long been at war with them, and had frequently been defeated. They had come from a long way off in the interior, and year after year had been advancing towards the coast. They were not only fierce and cruel warriors, but cannibals, and capable of committing every atrocity.

“What do you think about it all?” said Stanley to Timbo, who had been interpreting Chickango’s account.

“Dog dat bark not always bite, massa,” answered the black. “Me t’ink dat dey see our rifles and run away.”

“I am of Timbo’s opinion,” I could not help observing. “However, we must send and let our friends at the village know of the approach of their enemies; but unless we are attacked, we must on every account avoid fighting. The sooner we can embark and proceed on our voyage the better.”

“I believe you are right, Andrew,” observed Stanley; “but still I do not like the thought of running away; besides, we cannot leave those two black boys to the mercy of the savages, though if we carry them with us, their father will not know what has become of them.”

“I tell you what I do, massa,” answered Timbo; “I go and tell Igubo that he come and fetch dem, and den we send out scout to know what de Pangwes are doing.”

Our further boating for the day was, of course, put an end to; and having concealed the canoes in the thick brushwood which grew down to the river’s bank, we proceeded homewards, with the exception of Timbo, who hastened off to the Bakelés village.

Senhor Silva looked very grave when he heard what had occurred. “Those Pangwes are fierce fellows,” he said, “from what I know of them; and though they may not venture to come within range of our firearms, yet they may surround us and starve us out. We shall act wisely if we at once prepare for our voyage, and commence it as soon as Timbo returns.”

“But about these two boys, what shall we do with them?” asked David.

“I am afraid their fate must be a sad one,” was the answer, “whether their father comes for them or not. If he takes them away, they will probably fall into the hands of their enemies; or if they are left here, they are too likely to perish from hunger.”

“Oh, then let us take them with us,” said Kate, and little Bella echoed her words. “Surely the canoes are large enough to carry them, and it would be terrible to leave them to die.”

“They shall have part of my share of food,” said Bella.

“And mine and mine,” added Leo and Natty.

“I would rather leave Chico behind,” said Leo, “though I am afraid those dreadful savages would eat him.”

“Oh, we must carry him too,” said Natty; “for I am sure when we stop at night he will be able to forage for himself; he will find out roots and fruit when very often we are not able to discover them.”

We did not spend much more time in talking. It was arranged that we should start immediately on the return of Timbo. We therefore at once set to work to pack up our goods and to collect all the provisions we had in store to carry with us. As we could not tell into what regions the river might carry us it was important to kill some game and to collect as many plantains as we could carry off from the deserted village. Chickango and the two boys undertook to set off for the latter object, while Stanley and I went out with our guns into the woods. We were unusually successful, and in an hour had bagged as many pigeons and other birds as we could carry. We found, as we neared the Castle, Natty and Leo staggering on under a load of plantains.

“We shall have no fear of starving now, at all events!” cried Leo, “for Chickango has got as many more. As we came along, however, he started off to the top of the hill, where we understood him to say he could get a sight of the Bakelés village, and I suppose that he will be soon with us.”

We were disappointed on our arrival at finding that Timbo had not returned.

“I am afraid that some accident has happened to the poor fellow,” said Stanley; “or he may have been incautious, and fallen into the hands of the savages.”

David and Jack had been so well employed, that, with the assistance of the young ladies, everything was prepared for a start.

“I wish that we could be off,” said David; “but we must not leave our faithful Timbo behind.”

“Well, if you will all go down to the boats, I will remain here and bring him up as soon as he comes,” said Natty. “We shall thus gain time.”

“No, no; I cannot let you do that,” I said. “I will remain, and you must go.”

Natty, however, positively refused, and Stanley had to exert his authority, as our leader, to make him accompany them. Very unwillingly, he at length consented to do so, provided I promised, should Timbo not appear in the course of an hour, to follow them. The matter was arranged, and our party were taking up the loads they proposed to carry, when Chickango made his appearance among us. His countenance expressed alarm, and he was too much agitated to explain himself. At length Senhor Silva understood him to say that, on looking towards the Bakelés village, he had seen smoke ascending—that it grew thicker and thicker, and then flames burst forth, and he was convinced the whole village was on fire.

“Depend upon it, the Pangwes have done this,” he observed; “and, flushed with their victory, they will very soon march to attack us. We must either prepare ourselves to stand a siege, or lose no time in escaping.”

“Then let us at once commence our march,” said the captain; “but, Andrew, I do not like that you should run the risk of falling into the hands of these savages, which you will do if you remain behind.”

“I know my way down to the river so well,” I answered, “that I can easily join you should I see them approaching, and I will, meantime, keep a look-out from the height above the fort. Depend upon it, they have too much respect for our firearms to venture an attack, unless with their whole body. At all events, some time must elapse before they can be here. My only anxiety is about Timbo, should he have fallen into their hands.”

“You will promise, Andrew, not to remain more than an hour?” said Kate, as she and Bella, each carrying a load proportionate to their strength, went out of the fort. “We shall be very anxious till you join us.”

I watched the party as they descended the hill. I did not think the young ladies had much cause to regret leaving the place; but still they turned a glance behind them, as if they were quitting it with sorrow. Though difficulties and dangers might be before them, still I hoped that they were on their way to a more civilised and healthy climate. In the hurry of departure Chico had been forgotten, for he was quietly snoozing in his usual corner of Jack’s hut. Leo and Natty had already left the fort, when they discovered that he was not with them. “Chico, Chico!” they both cried out, and hearing his name called, he ran out, and sprang up upon Jack’s shoulder, who had already got as much as he could well carry. Nothing, however, would shake Master Chico off. I could not help thinking even at that moment of Sinbad the Sailor, and the Old Man of the Sea. “Well, I suppose if you will not walk, I must carry you,” exclaimed Jack; and away he went after the rest, Chico glancing about him with a look of surprise at the sudden exodus of his friends.

As soon as they were gone, I closed the gates and climbed out of a window in the back of the fort. This I did, that should the Pangwes arrive, they might not discover the flight of our party, and might spend some time in making preparations for the attack. I then ascended the hill, with my telescope, which I had retained, but could see no one moving in any of the open places I could command. In the distance, however, I observed dense clouds of smoke and bright flames ascending above the forest, which I was sure must proceed from the village we had visited. What was the fate of the unfortunate inhabitants? I knew too well the way that negro warriors are accustomed to treat those they conquer, and I could not help picturing to myself the horrid spectacle of women and children murdered, and those who had escaped slaughter carried off to be sold as slaves to the cruel dealers in human flesh, and, more than that, in the hearts and souls of their fellow-creatures. I looked at my watch. I calculated how long it would take my friends to reach the canoes. I was thankful when I felt sure they must have had time to get on board, and thus to be in comparative safety. Time went slowly on. I kept looking at my watch, but still Timbo did not appear. The hour had nearly passed.

At length, with great regret. I descended the rock, and took my way towards the river. I had just passed the Castle, when I caught sight of two figures moving towards me among the trees below. They might be scouts of the enemy. I hesitated what to do. Concealing myself behind some brushwood, I lifted my glass to examine them. Great was my satisfaction when I saw that one of them was Timbo; the other was a negro whom he was assisting along, and who appeared to be wounded. I hurried down to meet them. Timbo, when he saw me, made a sign to me not to shout, pointing behind him to make me understand that he was pursued. As I approached, I saw the negro was Igubo. He recognised me, and it seemed to revive his strength. Without stopping to inquire what had occurred, I took his arm, and assisted Timbo in hurrying him on towards the river’s bank. When he found this, he made a significant gesture towards the Castle. “He ask for his sons,” whispered Timbo. “Tell him they are both safe, I hope, in the canoes.” A gleam of satisfaction passed over the countenance of the wounded man, and he made fresh efforts to struggle on.

We had great reason to hurry, for ever and anon I could hear the shouts of the savages in the woods behind us, though still they appeared to be at some distance. Blood was flowing from Igubo’s side. I fortunately had a handkerchief, and in spite of the necessity for haste, I insisted on stopping to bind up the wound. I was afraid that otherwise he would bleed to death. We gained by it, indeed, for he was afterwards able to move more rapidly, and the flow of blood appeared almost staunched. As we approached the river I caught sight of two figures among the bushes and tall reeds which lined the bank. Could our enemies have got ahead of us? Presently we saw one of the figures dart out from their concealment, and then, to my satisfaction, I recognised Leo. He and Natty soon came running towards us. They had been on the watch, it appeared, having grown anxious at my non-appearance. The rest of the party were seated in the canoes. We assisted the wounded man into the one in which David was, with the two young ladies and Jack. A place had been left for me there also. Igubo, not seeing his boys in it, uttered an expression of disappointment. We lifted him up, however, and showed that they were in the other canoe. When satisfied, he submitted to have his wounds more completely and scientifically bound up than I had been able to do. Meantime Jack had taken the steering-oar, while Timbo and I seized the paddles. A few hurried words from Timbo explained to Stanley what had happened, and without further delay we shoved off from the bank, and began to make the best of our way down the stream. Natty had come into my canoe, while Stanley called Leo into his. Mine was the Gazelle. It was the best of the two, the other having been injured by the hippopotamus. Stanley had placed his sisters in it, trusting rather to Jack’s seamanship than to his own. His canoe being the lightest, he took the lead, that he might give timely notice to us should any sandbanks be encountered in our course, and, what were perhaps more to be dreaded, any wild rapids, down which it might be dangerous to proceed. Chico had seated himself in the bow of the canoe, as if he had been placed there to keep a look-out. Natty had taken a paddle, and Kate begged that she might use another till her brother had finished attending to poor Igubo’s wounds.

Not till we had got a little way down could I ask Timbo what had occurred. “Oh, Massa Andrew,” he answered, “me no like talk about it. De Pangwes come, and stay hid in de night close to de village, and just before de sun get up,—de sun dat is so bright and good, make de trees grow, and cheer de heart of man,—dey steal out wid de sharp sword and de spear, and de moment de Bakelés open de gate, rush in and kill all de women, children, and old men; and some stay outside and kill dose dat run away, and catch de young men and knock dem down, and tie deir hands, and take away to de slave-dealers. Igubo jump over de wall, and kill two or t’ree who came after him; and dough dey stuck de spear in his side, he get away. As I got near de village I hear de cries, and know too well what dey mean; so I hide, for I fear if I run dey see me and follow; but when I found Igubo drop down just near where I was, I rushed out and lift him up and bring him along; and de Pangwes just den no see us, because some young men who had got swords and bows and arrows ’tack dem, and fight bravely; but dey all killed, and den de Pangwes set fire to de village, and you know de rest.”

Timbo had scarcely finished his account when he shouted out, “See, see! Dere dey are! Dey come dis way!”

We had all been so busy in paddling the canoe and watching our leader that we had not looked either to the right hand or the left. Stanley, for the same reason, had not seen what was taking place on shore. We now saw a large body of black warriors shaking their spears, and beating them against their shields, as they rushed on towards the bank of the river. They had evidently the intention of stopping us.

“On, on!” cried Stanley. “Put your best strength into your strokes; the river is broader a little way down, and we may escape their arrows and spears if they attack us.”

“Don’t you think, sir, we had better get a broadside ready and give it them?” exclaimed Jack. “They are more likely to treat us with respect if we show that we are well-armed.”

“I would advise you not to fire unless hard-pressed,” said Senhor Silva. “We will show our muskets, but they are fierce warriors, and even should a few be killed, the rest would not be daunted, and would probably pursue us till a more narrow part of the river is reached, when they might overwhelm us with their spears and poisoned arrows.”

“Let me now take the paddle, Kate,” said David, who had placed Igubo at the bottom of the canoe, resting his head on a bundle. “My arm is stronger than yours, my sister, and in case the savages attack us, you and Bella must lie down at the bottom of the canoe.”

The canoes glided rapidly down the stream, making the water hiss and bubble under their bows. Had we not had the two helpless girls to protect, the adventure would have been an exciting one, which few of us would have objected to go through. The Pangwes, shouting and shrieking, and shaking their spears and shields, had now reached the banks of the river. It seemed scarcely possible that we could escape them. Not, however, till David had again and again pressed them, would his sisters consent to place themselves in greater safety at the bottom of the canoe. The crew of Stanley’s canoe plied their paddles vigorously, and kept just ahead of us. We needed no exhortation from him to follow their example.

We had now got almost abreast of where the savages were standing. Every instant I expected to see them draw their bows, with those deadly poisoned shafts; or hurl their spears, which I knew too well could reach to a great distance. I saw Timbo eyeing them very calmly.

“If we were to fire a broadside into them now, it would soon put them to flight,” cried Jack.

We, however, kept on without apparently noticing them. As we approached, they increased their shouts. Some of their chiefs seemed to be going among them, urging them to rush into the stream. Happily the river was here much wider than above us, and continued so for some distance down. A sandbank appeared in the middle. We trusted that a channel might be found on the right side of it, away from where the savages stood. We now saw several men with swords in their hands, urged by their chiefs, rush into the stream.

“See, see!” cried Timbo; “what are those creatures on the sandbank?”

I looked ahead, and there observed eight or ten large alligators and several small ones basking on the sandbank. Our approach somewhat startled them; and off they slid into the water, swimming towards the bank where the Pangwes were collected. They apparently caught sight of them at the same time. One of the leading swimmers at that instant threw up his arms, and, uttering a shriek, was drawn down under the water. The others, seeing the fate of their companion, turned round, and, in spite of the shouts and exhortations of their chiefs, swam back to the shore. The alligators pursued them, and two others were carried down before they could reach the banks. So eager were the monsters that we saw their snouts rising above the water even at the very bank, when hundreds of spears were darted at them. Aimed in a hurry, the missiles probably glided off their scaly sides. We could not discover whether any were killed.

Now the Pangwes, finding that their attempt to cut us off had failed, began hurling their spears at us, and sending showers of light arrows, many of which fell fearfully close to the canoe. Some stuck in the sandbank, inside of which we were making our way. It showed us the danger of having to pass our enemies where the river became narrower. The only advantage we should there possess would be the greater rapidity of the current. We continued to ply our paddles with might and main. Now we had passed the sandbank, and a wide extent of water lay between us and the negro army. They, however, appeared to have discovered that should we get far ahead we might escape them altogether; and we saw a large body moving away to the southward. We could not help fearing that there might be some bend in the river, or narrow passage, where they might still hope to cut us off. Our utmost efforts must be exerted, therefore, to gain the place before they could reach it. There was still another danger. We might ground on one of the sandbanks, or some point might project from the western side and compel us to go round nearer to the eastern bank. I, of course, kept these thoughts to myself, and did my utmost to send the canoe along, and to keep up the spirits of my companions.

“If we get within reach of them,” sung out Stanley from his canoe, as he saw them moving along the bank of the river, “we must instantly take to our arms and give them a volley. It will not do to let any of their arrows come near us.”

“Ay, ay,” I answered. “Our muskets are, I believe, all loaded.”

“All right, sir,” said Jack. “I loaded them before I placed them in the canoe, and I do not think those black fellows will stand a taste of our bullets.”

Poor little Bella looked very much frightened when she heard us talk of firing.

“They will not fire unless there is absolute necessity for it,” I heard Kate say to her. “You know, Bella, it will only be done if we have to defend ourselves.”

The current was so strong and our canoes moved so swiftly that we were quickly leaving the main body of Pangwes. We heard their shouts of rage and disappointment as they saw us escaping them. Horrid as were those shrieks and cries, they of course only made us paddle the harder; but still I felt anxious lest the smaller body I have spoken of might outstrip us.

“Suppose the Pangwes try to cut us off at another place, could we not haul our canoes up and make our escape overland?” exclaimed Natty, showing that he had understood the reason of the movement we had observed.

“We might escape them, certainly, for the moment,” I answered; “but we could not proceed on our journey without our canoes.”

“But we might return and get them, or drag them overland,” he observed.

“That would be a task, I fear, too great for our strength,” I said. “But your suggestion, Natty, is worthy of consideration, if we are hard-pressed.”

I told Stanley what Natty had said.

“I hope we shall not be obliged to do that,” he answered. “Paddle away, lads; we shall soon, I hope, see the last of them.”

On we went, the river now making its way through a thick forest, the trees coming down to the very water’s edge; now again it opened, and low prairie land was seen on the eastern side. The level appearance of the country made me fear that the river might make some bend such as I supposed our enemies were attempting to reach. The banks were, however, too high to enable us to see to a distance. At any moment they might appear on the shore. At length the banks became somewhat lower, and, standing up, I caught sight of a body of men hurrying across the prairie. They were, however, at a considerable distance behind us; and now it evidently depended on whether we should reach the supposed narrow place before them or not. I had often read of heroines; but as I looked at the calm countenance of Kate, showing that she was resolved to go through all danger without flinching, I could not help thinking that she deserved especially to be ranked as one.

I could see as I gazed over the plain, besides the negro army, numerous animals scampering across it, put to flight by their appearance—herds of quaggas, zebras, buffaloes, and various sorts of deer, the lofty heads of a troop of giraffes appearing above them all. Innumerable birds flew amid the boughs of the trees, and wild-fowl rose from the sedgy shores, or gazed at us from the mud-banks as we shot by. Here and there a huge hippopotamus raised his head, and gazed with his ferocious eyes, wondering what new creatures had invaded his territory; while scaly alligators lay basking in the sun, or swam about seeking some creature to devour.

“If we get clear of the savages we shall have no fear of starving,” observed Natty, as he saw the herds of wild animals I have described.

“You are right, Natty,” said Jack; “and as to getting clear of them, there is no doubt about that.”

“I have been praying that we may escape them,” said Natty; “and that makes me think we shall.”

“Right again, Massa Natty,” observed Timbo. “It great t’ing to know dat we have got One to take care of us when we can no take care of ourselves. He hear de little boy prayer just as much as de big man.”

Had Timbo joined us at an earlier hour, we might have escaped the dangers to which we were exposed; but still I was thankful that we had got him with us. As I looked ahead I saw that the river was making a bend towards the east. It was what I had dreaded; but the danger—if danger there was—must be run. Again I asked Stanley whether he thought it would be wise to haul up the canoes, and try to escape overland, should the river be too narrow to enable us to keep out of the range of the poisoned arrows of our enemies.

“That must be our last resource,” he answered. “We must first try the effect of our firearms. Their blood be upon their own heads, if we kill any. I have no wish to injure any of them, even though they may be seeking our lives, if we can by any possibility avoid it.”

I felt much as Stanley did. To desert the canoes would be to expose the young ladies to fearful fatigue and danger, and was to be avoided by every means.

We now entered into the reach I had expected to find. It was, however, as broad as the part we had lately passed through. We took the centre of the stream rather than cut off the angle, lest our enemies might be concealed on the bank. And now, going along it for some distance, we rounded another point projecting from the west, and found ourselves in a still broader part. It was somewhat shallow, we judged by the numerous little islands and banks which rose above its surface.

“Hark!” said Natty, suddenly; “don’t you hear the roar of water?”

I listened, and felt convinced that some waterfall or rapid was near us. I shouted to Stanley. We ceased paddling for an instant.

“It may be a cataract,” he answered; “but I have hopes that it is simply the sound of rapids. If so, we may pass through them.”

“A dangerous experiment!” observed David.

“It depends upon their character,” answered his brother, from the other canoe.

“But, without a pilot, would it be possible?”

“We must land and survey them first,” shouted Stanley, “We shall have no difficulty in doing that; and if we cannot pass them, we must try and drag the canoes over the land. That, at all events, can be done.”

We found as we proceeded that the roar of waters increased; and there could be no doubt, from the way the river ran, that a rapid was before us. We went on till the water was already beginning to bubble and hiss. The bank on our right afforded tolerably easy landing; so, running the canoes to it, we secured them to some trees which grew close down to the water. Stanley sprang out, and called to Timbo to accompany him.

“We shall be able to judge whether we can safely pass through them,” he said. “I will be back quickly. Yes, we will take our rifles; we may find them necessary.”

He said this as Senhor Silva handed them out of the canoe. They were soon out of sight among the thick underwood which grew near the banks. It is very different, I should say, from the underwood in England; composed rather of huge leaves, reeds of enormous height, and other plants of the Tropics. The opposite side was also covered with wood, so that we were unable to ascertain whether the Pangwes were in the neighbourhood or not. We were, however, so much concealed by the foliage among which our canoes were moored, that an enemy might have passed on the opposite bank without perceiving us. We waited anxiously for the return of Stanley and Timbo. At length they appeared.

“We can do it,” Stanley exclaimed. “The water is rapid but clear, and we may easily steer our way clear of the huge boulders through which it passes.”

Once more we shoved off. Each man screwed up his nerves for the trial; for no slight trial it would prove—of that I was certain.

“Stanley is so cool and calm,” observed Kate, “I have no fear.”

His canoe led. In a few minutes we were in the strength of the current. On we glided, like arrows from a bow. We had little else to do than to guide our canoes. Still we kept paddling, so that we might the more easily, if it were possible, turn aside from any danger ahead. Now a huge boulder rose up on one side; now we darted through a passage which only afforded room for the canoes to pass. Now the water ran smoothly without a bubble; now it hissed and foamed as it passed over a shallower bed. There was an excitement in the scene which made our spirits rise. I felt almost inclined to shout at times as we dashed on. Yet an instant’s carelessness might have proved our destruction. We appeared to be descending a steep hill of water at times; now wavelets rose on either side, and threatened to leap into the boat.

Our eyes were fixed on our leader’s canoe, and his on the water ahead, through which he was to guide us. For one moment I cast my eyes on the eastern shore, and was sorry that I had done so, for there I saw a number of dark forms collected just below the rapids. What they were about I had not time to observe. I said nothing; it would be time enough when we had shot the rapids. On, on we went. We were in a sea of foam, the water roaring, bubbling, and hissing. I feared that Stanley’s skill could scarcely carry the canoe through; but he had noted the point, and his experience told him that there was sufficient depth. Now a wave washed aboard on one side, now on the other, now came hissing over our bows; but we dashed through them, and I saw before us a calm and lake-like expanse. In another instant we were free of the rapids, and floating calmly on the lower portion of the river.

Once more I cast my eyes to the spot where I had seen the blacks. They were our enemies; of that I had no doubt. I pointed them out to Stanley.

“What can they be about?” he asked.

Timbo looked at them. “Building rafts,” he answered. “Dey are shoving off even now. Dey knew we must come dis way, and hoped to cut us off. But hurrah! hurrah! we got down sooner dan dey!”

Several rafts of reeds, such as I before described, were shoved off from the bank. We did not stop to examine them; but plying our paddles with might and main, we continued our course towards the point where we believed the river made its exit out of the lake.

Chapter Ten.

Voyage down the River, continued.

The savages on the raft, which had already got some way out into the lake, saluted us with showers of arrows; but, happily, we were too far off for them to reach us. Already our arms ached with our long paddle, but it was no time to rest. We knew not whether, vindictive as they appeared, they would attempt to pursue us, or whether others might not have gone further down along the margin of the lake, with the hope of even yet intercepting us at the narrow part which we saw. Evening was approaching, and the difficulties of the navigation, should the night prove dark, would be greater.

“I see some objects on the left bank,” cried Natty. “Never fear, we will slip by them,” said Jack. “To my eyes they have got four legs, and will not hurt us.”

We speedily neared the point where the lake-like expanse narrowed into the proportions of a river. The creatures seen by Natty were now discovered to be a herd of zebras, which had come down to the river’s bank to drink. They gazed at us as we passed with a look of astonishment; but, though they kept moving here and there, as if asking each other what we could be, they did not take to flight, but continued scampering round and round as horses do in a field, stopping every now and then to take another look at us. They quickly, however, returned to the water, for they probably knew that unless they made haste they would be interrupted by some of their remorseless foes—lions, panthers, or hyenas—which might come down to the same spot to quench their thirst before setting forth on their nightly rambles in search of prey. They were beautiful and graceful creatures, very unlike the poor patient ass with which we are acquainted in England, and accustomed to associate with everything that is stupid and obstinate. Yet the zebra and the ass are nearly related; indeed, the former is classed by naturalists as an ass. I shall have more to say about them by-and-by.

Evening was rapidly drawing to a close. Still, although the alarm which the zebras had caused us when first indistinctly seen had subsided, we thought it possible that some of our savage foes might still be on the watch for us further down the stream, or, should we land and rest, that they might overtake us before we again got under weigh. “It’s wisest, according to my notions, to keep well ahead of an enemy if you have to run from him, and as close as you can to his heels if you have to chase him, till he hauls down his flag!” exclaimed Jack, vigorously plying his paddle. “What do you say, Mr Crawford?”

I heartily agreed with him. The thought of what would be the fate of my young relatives would have nerved my arm for even greater exertions than we were called on to make. We still, therefore, continued paddling, in spite of our fatigue, with might and main, anxious to put as many leagues as possible between ourselves and our enemies before we stopped. The sun set in a glorious glow of ruddy light on our right, shedding a hue over the tops of some lofty hills which appeared on the opposite bank. The stream increased in rapidity; but still, as far as we could see, was free from danger. There was yet sufficient light from the sky, though it could not be called twilight, to enable us to continue our course.

“If the navigation is as open as at present, we will continue on for another hour,” shouted Stanley. “We shall then be safe from the savages, and may have a quiet rest, I hope, after our day’s work.”

“Ay, ay, sir,” answered Jack from our canoe. “We have not worn our arms off yet; though, if you don’t mind stopping, maybe the ladies would like a bit of pigeon and a bite of plantain.”

“Oh, no, no,” exclaimed Kate. “Do not stop for our sakes, if you are not tired. We feel no hunger, and would rather not delay a moment till you think it safe.”

We accordingly paddled on. By degrees the glow faded from the sky, and darkness settled down over the landscape. Still Stanley continued leading. Presently I saw on our left a silvery arch rising over the hills. It increased rapidly, and soon the full moon rose in the sky, shedding its light over the waters.

“We do not get sight of such a moon as that in old England,” cried out Leo from the other canoe. “It is often there more like a patch of red putty stuck on to a wall; but see! this looks like a mighty globe of pure fire floating in the heavens.” So indeed it did.

“Do not be disparaging our good old English moons,” cried out Natty. “You forget the harvest moon; and, though it is not quite like this, it is a very beautiful object to gaze at, and useful to those who have to carry home the full-loaded waggons of corn.”

Our spirits were rising as we felt we were escaping from the danger we had encountered. I hoped, too, our hearts were grateful. The bright light of the moon now enabled us to proceed with almost as much ease as during the day. As we sped on, however, we saw numerous animals on the banks coming down to drink; but we passed them too rapidly to ascertain what they were. I think we must have continued paddling on two hours longer, rather than one. Stanley seemed unwilling, so long as we could move our arms, to stop; indeed, the cool air of night renewed our strength; and, for my part, I felt that I could have gone on till daylight, if necessary, for the sake of securing the safety of the young girls depending on us for protection.

At length the ground on our right rose considerably above the plain. “I think I see an island ahead,” cried Stanley. “If so, it may suit us for a bivouac, and may be more secure than the mainland.” As we went on we found that he was right. The island appeared to be about four or five hundred yards in circumference, with numerous trees growing on it, which would afford us the means of forming huts, and give us wood for our fires besides. Fortunately, we had no need of provisions, as we had an abundance in the canoes. We took the passage on the west side, and, going to the further end of the island, found a small bay, into which we steered the canoes.

“We must act the part of invaders and drive out any previous occupants,” observed Stanley as he stepped on shore. “Kate and Bella and the two boys, with the wounded black and his sons, must remain in the canoes till we can find a safe place for encamping. David will stay behind for your protection. Now, my friends, we will advance into the interior.”

At the word we all stepped on shore. There was a small extent of open ground extending a few yards from the water’s edge. This would, at all events, afford us space for our encampment. Had it been a dark night, we should have run a considerable risk if any savage animals existed on the island; but during moonlight neither lions nor panthers will assail a man, unless hard-pressed by hunger. We had our axes in our belts, and were thus able to clear our way over the rocky ground among the underwood and trees, mostly growing wide apart. As we advanced, we shouted to each other, now one now another firing his gun and stopping to reload. Suddenly a loud splash told us that some animal had leaped into the water. Now another was heard, and in a short time we reached the northern end of the island, having completely passed over it. We were satisfied that whatever creatures had been there had taken their departure, and we now returned to prepare for our encampment. In the meantime, we found that David and the boys had been landing the provisions. We had all become pretty expert in cutting down trees; and, as many of those in our neighbourhood were small, we soon had a sufficient number to make a small hut for Kate and Bella. This was erected with a rapidity which would have astonished people at home. As there was no fear of rain, we were not very particular as to the roof; and the abundance of vines enabled us quickly to weave a network round it, through which no panther, nor even a lion, could force its way. Less substantial structures were erected for the rest of the party. The boys were busy in collecting dry wood for the fires; and in scarcely more than half an hour we had formed a village which might have served us for many weeks if necessary, provided the weather remained dry. The two young blacks had, in the meantime, under the superintendence of Kate, been preparing our supper. She insisted that she was in no degree tired, and would not be idle. Igubo sat up, with his back supported against a bale, giving directions to his sons. A number of birds were forthwith roasting before the fire, while an ample supply of plantains were being baked on the ashes. Our cookery was of necessity somewhat rough, but we were grateful to those who prepared our food, and I could not help fancying it tasted better done by their hands. A sufficient amount of wood had been collected to keep up four good fires during the night One was placed on the river side, to scare any animals which might approach from the water; one at either end of the camp; and one on the forest side, though we hoped that we had driven off all enemies from our island. As soon as supper was over, Stanley recommended all hands to retire to rest.

“But, massa,” said Timbo, “we escape great danger; sure we t’ank Him who preserved us.”

“Indeed we ought to do so,” said Kate; “and we are thankful to you, Timbo, for reminding us.”

“I am sure my father would,” I heard Natty say to Leo.

Stanley took a pace or two up and down, and then turning to Timbo, said, “You are right, old friend; but it would be somewhat out of my way, I am sorry to say. David, I must ask you to take the lead.”

The young doctor, though full of talent, felt, I saw, a diffidence under the circumstances; but, mustering courage, he undertook to lead us in prayer; and with expressions which came, I am sure, from his heart, he returned thanks to the God of mercy for our preservation from the great dangers we had passed, and implored protection for the future. I heard Natty, who was kneeling near me, repeat his words with deep earnestness; and I was sure also that Kate and little Bella were pouring out their hearts in prayer. Though Timbo was the only African who could join us, the others were, I believe, greatly impressed with the scene, which, I had reason to know, was never forgotten by them.

Chickango and I had been appointed to keep the first watch, while Senhor Silva and Jack were to relieve us. In a short time the rest of our party were fast asleep, with the exception of David, who, as soon as his sisters had entered their hut, drove some stakes round the entrance, so that even a snake could not find its way in. After pacing up and down for some time with my gun in my hand, I told Chickango I would try and make my way to the other side of the island, as a full moon shining down among the trees enabled me to do without much difficulty. Its beams shed a silvery light on the water, which flowed calmly by. I soon reached a spot whence I could see the opposite shore, across a channel which divided the island from the mainland. As I stood there, I fancied I saw creatures moving along the banks, then I discovered five or six elephants approaching the water. They came to the edge, and, dipping in their trunks, poured the cool liquid down their throats. Presently a herd of giraffes came with a swinging trot across the ground, their heads moving about from side to side as they swung forward their long legs. They appeared, however, rather cautious of approaching till their more powerful companions had quenched their thirst. Just then, from a point a little on one side, several smaller animals made their way down to the bank; and, as they drew nearer, I discovered them to be a male and female lion, with their whelps. They stood watching the elephants, now and then uttering a low angry sound, yet never breaking into a roar. I stood rivetted to the spot, thankful that we had chosen the island for our encampment; for had we been on the mainland, we must have found our post untenable. They were, however, not the only visitors to the water. A huge rhinoceros, which I recognised by the horn on his nose, advanced with a heavy tread; and several buffaloes, and other animals which I took to be wild boars, joined the assemblage. The elephants, it appeared to me, kept the other animals in awe, for all stood at a distance from each other, slaking their thirst after the burning heat of the day. Many, probably, had come from a distance to seek for water. The giraffes were the only ones which continued in motion, they evidently being unwilling to approach while their savage enemies the lions were in the neighbourhood. Fortunately for them, I was not possessed with the instincts of a hunter, or I should probably have shot one of the lions; the female especially, as she kept looking at the elephant, with her cubs by her side, offering me a mark which I could not well have missed; but, in the first place, I should have disturbed my friends, and then I thought to myself, “Why should I kill one of these creatures, which are but following their natural instincts? and, as they are not likely to attack us, no good can be attained.”

At length I thought that Chickango would fancy some accident had happened, and might be induced to leave his post to search for me. I therefore returned to the camp. I had nearly reached it when I fancied I heard a sound behind me. I turned round, an indefinite feeling of horror suddenly seizing me. I called to Chickango: he sprang forward. At that instant I saw a huge creature creeping along through the underwood. Chickango was by my side. He raised his gun, and gave a loud shout. The animal sprang up a tree. He fired, and a large panther fell to the ground. The rest of the party, starting from their beds, came hurrying up. The creature was not quite dead, but a blow from the negro’s axe quickly finished it. My friends congratulated me on my narrow escape; and indeed I was thankful that I had been again preserved. The creature must have remained on the island. Probably the moonlight prevented it springing on me at once, as it might easily have done.

It was some time before quiet was restored to the camp. David hurried back to assure his sisters that there was no danger; for they had naturally been alarmed by the shot, and the cries of the party as they sprang up from their sleep. The adventure made us increase the number of our fires on that side of the camp; while Stanley, declaring he had had sleep enough, joined us on the watch. As may be supposed, I felt no inclination to make another trip about the island by myself, lest a companion of the animal we had killed might take a fancy to spring upon me. I must confess I was very glad when Timbo and Senhor Silva came to relieve me; but nothing could induce Stanley again to lie down.

No sooner had I placed my head upon the bale of goods which served me as a pillow, than I was fast asleep. I was aroused by Natty’s voice—

“Oh see, Mr Crawford!—it is worth looking at. The sun has just risen.”

I sprang to my feet, and found all the camp already up. The sun at that instant was showing its upper edge above the mountains, looking like an arch of fire, tinting the distant mountains with a soft tinge of the same hue, and casting a ruddy glow over the broad stream which flowed at our feet; while the whole sky was covered with a rich orange glow, deepening towards the horizon into the brightest vermilion.

“We will lose no time in proceeding on our voyage,” said Stanley; “so the sooner we can get through our breakfast the better.”

As the fire was ready, the water was soon boiling, and we contented ourselves with the cold meat and plantain which had been cooked on the previous night. The canoes were immediately reladen; and quickly embarking, we once more commenced our voyage down the stream. As we opened the wider part, we looked northward along the banks, but could discover no signs of our enemies; and we hoped, therefore, that we had completely distanced them. The number of animals which we saw on the banks showed us that we were not likely to meet with many inhabitants. This was satisfactory, as we could not tell how they might be disposed towards us. Although the heat was great, our spirits felt lighter in the belief that we should meet with no enemies: and we continued paddling along, Chico standing as before in the bows of the canoe; the boys, as usual, joking with each other; while Jack every now and then burst into one of his sea-songs, an entertainment with which he had not indulged us since we were engaged in building the canoes. The Giraffe, as before, took the lead. We paddled more leisurely than on the previous day, as we should soon have worn ourselves out had we continued the exertion we had then gone through. Thus, in spite of the heat, we were able to continue on for some hours.

We landed at noon on the western bank, where a group of trees afforded us shade, which we greatly needed; indeed, the heat of the sun had become so great that we could scarcely have continued longer exposed to its rays. We as before beat the bushes in the neighbourhood to ascertain that no animal lurked among them, and then lighted a fire to cook our dinner. As may be supposed, the birds that had been killed on the previous morning were no longer fit for English palates; but our black friends, without ceremony, consumed them. We had therefore to wait until we had killed some fresh game.

Stanley, Senhor Silva, Timbo, and I took up our guns to proceed inland. The scenery on the banks was very beautiful, the trees not growing in dense masses, but scattered in groups, like those in a gentleman’s park in England. Beautiful flowers covered the open spaces. Among some of the groups of trees we observed the orchilla weed hanging from the branches. This is one of the exports of Africa, and is used as a dye stuff. There was a beautiful little shrub which Chickango called the mullah. It bore a yellow fruit. He gathered several—which he said were good to eat—and we found them full of seeds, like a custard-apple, with a sweet taste. A larger tree was covered with white blossoms, their fragrance reminding me of the hawthorn at home; but the flowers of these were as large as dog-roses and the fruit the size of big marbles. Chickango pointed to the flowers; not so much to admire them, as because numerous bees were sucking their sweets. “Dere! dere!”—and he pointed out several hollows in the neighbouring trees. “Me come back, and get for eat,” he said. From another shrub—which our companion called the mogametsa—he picked a quantity of fruit, which had the appearance of a bean with pulp round it.

“Why,” cried Leo, as he tasted the mogametsa, “it is just like sponge-cake—capital stuff! We must take a quantity to the camp.”

Another very nice fruit was the maioa, which grew abundantly on low bushes. Indeed, we found a number of edible bulbs and bushes. Among them I must not forget to mention the mamosho and milo. The latter is a sort of medlar, which all hands pronounced delicious. Indeed, there was no fear of our starving in this region. There were great numbers of birds also; but I will describe them by-and-by.

Troops of animals passed us, among which the giraffe was conspicuous. We were just emerging from the wood, when we saw a single giraffe following a large herd at a distance, having from some cause been separated from his companions. On he went, swinging his tall head from side to side to keep time with the motion of his legs, which put me in mind of the way spiders move. He was passing a clump of trees, when a terrific roar reached our ears. The poor animal attempted to increase his pace; but before he could do so, a huge lion sprang from a thicket, and with one bound alighted on the giraffe’s back.

“It is too far off for a bullet to reach him,” observed Stanley, “or I would try to rescue the giraffe by killing the lion.”

“It would be useless, for I suspect the giraffe’s fate is sealed,” said Senhor Silva. “The grip with which the lion seized his neck is sufficient to end his days. In spite of the giraffe’s strength, the king of the forest will soon have him down.”

The giraffe continued his course, going away from us, so that our chance of shooting the lion decreased. Still we pushed on, hoping that the terrified animal might turn, and bring his murderer closer to us. On he went, however, uttering cries of terror, the rest of the herd scampering off at full speed, which soon carried them away from their unfortunate companion. The life-blood was flowing fast from the giraffe’s neck; but he struggled on in spite of the immense weight of the creature on his back and the agony he must have been suffering. In vain he reared up—in vain he struggled. Presently we saw him sink to the ground, when the savage beast flew at his neck, and soon finished his sufferings.

“Take care,” said Senhor Silva; “we must not approach too near, for if we attempt to dispute his prey with the lion, it will make him more savage than ever.”

“Our guns will settle that question,” answered Stanley, still hurrying on.

I kept by his side, and the boys followed. Not till we were within fifty paces did the lion perceive us. He was then standing over his prey, which he had already begun to rend. Raising his head, with his claws on the carcase, he eyed us fiercely, sending forth terrific growls of anger. Still he did not move and Stanley had now an opportunity of taking steady aim. Still we advanced nearer. The lion perceiving this, with a roar which even now rings in my ears, gave a bound towards us. I raised my rifle and fired; but my arm must have trembled, and I confess I felt little able to take steady aim: the ball only grazed the lion’s head. He was now within a dozen paces of us. Leo and David were standing a little on one side. Stanley raised his gun. He fired; but, to my horror, no explosion followed.

“Now! now!” he cried out.

The boys saw what had happened, and both, levelling their pieces, fired. The lion gave a bound in the air, and fell backward. “Hurrah! hurrah!” shouted Leo and Natty; “we have killed the lion!”

“No; it was my shot did it,” cried Leo.

“It was mine,” exclaimed Natty; “I am sure.”

“You both had the honour,” exclaimed Stanley, as he knelt over the monster’s head. “Here are two shot holes, and either would have killed him.”

As may be supposed, the boys’ triumph was very great. Chickango, however, was better pleased with the giraffe.

“Here meat enough for one week,” he exclaimed, as he began to cut away into the giraffe’s flesh.

As we had no prejudice in taking an animal killed immediately before our eyes, though we might have objected to it had we found it dead, we all assisted Chickango in cutting up the animal, each of us taking as much as we could possibly carry.

“You stay here,” he said. “Take care no oder lion come. I go call oders;” and loading himself with twice as much as we could have attempted to carry, he hurried back to the camp.

The rest of the party soon arrived; and we had now an ample supply of food for several days, if it would keep so long. Not delaying to kill any birds, as the rest of the party were waiting for their dinner, we hurried back to the camp. We found that Timbo had not been idle, and had caught several fish, which were of good size, and pronounced wholesome. We found Igubo’s sons—the eldest of whom was called Mango and the other Paulo—creeping along the banks at a little distance down the river.

“They are after something,” observed Jack, “for they have been making a couple of harpoons; and they seem to know pretty well what they are about.”

Presently we saw a creature which at a distance looked like a young crocodile leap off the shore into the water. Mango’s harpoon was rapidly darted at it; and he was now seen hauling up the creature, which was struggling to escape. He and his brother soon despatched it with blows on the head, and, leaving it on the bank, crept on a little further. Presently another creature was harpooned in the same way by Paulo; and they now came back looking highly pleased, and dragging the reptiles after them. They were about three feet long, with a high ridge running along their backs, and with hideous heads.

“Bery good eat,” exclaimed Chickango when he saw the little monsters.

“What!” cried out Leo; “you do not mean to say you would eat those hideous creatures?”

“I suspect we shall have no objection to do so,” said David. “They are varanians, a species of water-lizard, very similar to the iguanas of the New World, which are considered great delicacies. Ugly as they look, they are perfectly harmless.”

The fires were already lighted, and without loss of time young Mango and Paulo set to work to skin their prizes. Chickango stewed a portion of them in our big pan. The flesh looked remarkably white and nice. First I took a piece; David followed; then Leo put in his wooden fork.

“Why, it is capital!” he exclaimed. “Kate, you must have some. Bella, I am sure you will like it.”

In fact, in a short time we were all partaking of the varaniad meat, which we preferred to that of the giraffe. We had a dessert of great variety, if not to be compared to some of our English fruits; but we were very thankful to get such nice and wholesome food. The fruits, indeed, were particularly cooling and pleasant to the palate. Chickango, who had disappeared, soon came back with a quantity of honey, which he had taken from the hollows in the trees we had seen on our shooting expedition. It was, as may be supposed, a welcome addition to our repast.

We were still seated at our meal, when a low rumbling noise reached our ears. It continued for some time, and looking out towards the east, whence it appeared to come, we saw dark clouds collecting. Presently vivid flashes of lightning darted forth, and reiterated roars came pealing through the air. “We must get shelter up immediately,” cried Senhor Silva, “or the young ladies will be wet through; and our goods may suffer too.” The canoes had been well secured to trunks of trees, though not unladen. We immediately got out the axes, and commenced cutting down the smaller saplings and straight branches of trees as rapidly as we could. These we placed on the side of the bank, covering our rude hut over with large leaves and heavy boughs on the top, which we secured by rattans to prevent their being blown away. Everything that could be injured by rain was immediately brought up, leaving room for the young ladies and poor Igubo in the centre.

“Oh, we can perch ourselves on the top of the baggage,” cried Leo. “There will be room then for all hands inside.”

While we were working away the clouds came rushing on over the sky, the flashes of lightning becoming every instant more vivid and frequent. I had hitherto seen nothing like it on shore. The most vivid flashes of forked lightning darted from the clouds, apparently playing round the summits of the taller trees, and then descending, went zigzagging along over the ground. Others were seen traversing the river in all directions. It was a grand but terrific scene. The blacks looked alarmed, and poor Chico chattered as if he would shake his teeth out, and clung to Jack’s neck for protection. The thunder roared and rattled louder and louder, till we could scarcely hear each other speak; while sometimes the whole atmosphere seemed filled with flame. Presently huge drops began to fall. They came thicker and thicker, till they splashed down upon the river, throwing up miniature waterspouts all over it. The roar of the splashing and pattering was quite deafening. The wind, too, howled through the trees, which threatened to come down upon our heads, though we had placed our hut as far from them as possible. In a few minutes the water, which had been perfectly clear, became thick and muddy, and branches of trees and logs of wood were seen floating down the stream.

“We should be thankful that we are safe on land,” said David. “Will this last long, Senhor Silva?”

“Sometimes such storms are over in half an hour,” was the answer; “but they may last for a couple of days. Should this do so, we may congratulate ourselves on having the canoes to escape in, for the river may speedily swell, and cover the very spot where we are sitting.”

This was not satisfactory news; at the same time, it was better to know of the probability of such an occurrence, that we might be prepared for it. The river was rising—that was evident—and now flowed down in waves which would have been almost sufficient to swamp our canoes; while torrents of water came rushing down the banks, and threatening every instant to sweep away our hut. Happily we had formed it on a little elevation on the bank, so that the stream turned on either side, and the risk was therefore lessened. Fiercer and fiercer raged the storm. The waters increased rapidly. It seemed as if the very clouds were emptying themselves upon the earth.

“I hope we are not going to have another deluge,” exclaimed Leo.

“Of course not,” answered Natty. “Don’t you know that one is never to occur again? To be sure, this river may overflow its banks, but we have our canoes to get away in if it does.”

I was afraid little Bella would be alarmed, but she kept gazing up at her sister, and seeing her countenance calm and tranquil, sat contented by her side, without speaking, however. In spite of the rain, I every now and then put my head out to ascertain that the canoes were safe; for as the waters rushed down, I was afraid lest the stumps to which they were fastened might be carried away. So thick was the rain that we could scarcely see across to the other side. Suddenly, as if by word of command, it ceased; and though the thunder continued to rattle towards the west, and flashes still issued from the clouds in the east, all quickly became serene. The sun burst forth again upon our heads, and the leaves of the trees and shrubs glittered for a few minutes as if covered with diamonds, though the sun rapidly dried up the moisture. The hut had become very hot, and I was just going out of it, when I saw the head of an animal crawling out from a neighbouring bush. At first I thought it was some creature, till I saw a long body following. It was a huge serpent. It came wriggling over the ground directly towards the hut. “Ondara!” shouted Chickango; “shoot! shoot!” Stanley sprang down from his seat, and aimed at the monster’s head. I did the same. The creature, after convulsively twisting and turning itself into huge coils, lay still. We hurried down to examine it. On measuring it, we found that it was upwards of fifteen feet in length. David examined the head, and pronounced it to be venomous.

“Yes, indeed,” said Senhor Silva. “It is the largest of all venomous serpents, and if the stories told of it are true, so virulent is the poison that it causes almost instantaneous death.”

We had reason to be thankful that we had escaped the two dangers. As we were anxious to proceed on our voyage, having now an ample supply of provisions, we once more embarked. I was afraid, from the thickness of the water, that we should have difficulty in avoiding any banks in our course; but it very soon cleared, and we proceeded as before.

As we were paddling along a sudden sickness seized me. Whether it was from over-exerting myself, or from the heat of the sun, I could not tell. Still I tried to go on. At length I felt my paddle slip from my hand. Natty had just time to catch it, and to save me from falling forward on my face. I was placed in the bottom of the canoe, alongside poor Igubo, and knew no more.

For days and days I lay in an unconscious state, utterly unable to move or speak or think.

Some time after this I had a dreamy consciousness of existence, but often for hours together I knew nothing of what was occurring. I felt myself now and then lifted out of the canoe. I knew that David was attending me, and at other times a sweet face bending over me, and fair hands holding a fan and driving away the flies. Once I heard Natty whispering, “Oh, he will die! he will die!”

“I pray Heaven he may not,” was the answer; “and David thinks he will get through it. But he is very ill.”

Then again I fell off into a dreamy state. Now and then I knew I was on shore, and once more on the water. I was conscious of the movement of the canoe, but what was happening round me I could not tell. I heard shots fired, and then strange voices shouting and shrieking, but I could not utter a word, nor could I understand what was said to me. After a time the power of thought came back, and I knew when it was day and when it was night, and I was able to discover that many days and nights had passed away. Still I could not ask questions. An awning had been placed over the stern of the canoe, under which I lay. I remember seeing Igubo paddling away, as strong as the rest of the party, and though there was the mark of the wound in his side, it was perfectly healed. This showed me that a considerable time must have elapsed since I had been attacked. I discovered also that we were ascending a stream, but even then I could not speak. Shortly after this I felt myself lifted up and placed on a sort of palanquin, and carried along over the ground. I knew that I was remaining for some time, and that my little cousin Bella was sitting by my side fanning my face, and now and then moistening my lips, or giving me a slight portion of food. After that, I was once more lifted into the canoe. The river must have been far narrower than any we had passed through, for even as I lay in the bottom of the canoe I could see the trees on either side.

I had a relapse. I knew nothing more till one day I opened my eyes, and saw my cousin Kate seated near me, and Bella on a low stool at my side, with a book before her. Kate was working away most assiduously, as was her wont. Not far off in a corner sat Chico, as busily, though not so usefully, employed in cracking nuts. We were in a large airy hut, formed, as far as I could see, very much after the fashion of those we had before constructed. I was so placed as to be in the shade, and at the same time to obtain as much air as possible. I heard the voices of Leo and Natty at a little distance. They were engaged in some work, I concluded, and were laughing and talking merrily. I tried to speak, and I must have uttered a sound, for instantly Bella sprang up, and, casting her bright eyes on me, ran to her sister. “Oh, he is awake, and looks as if he knew me!” she exclaimed. Kate cautiously approached, and I saw her looking down upon me with an eye of pity and interest.

“Are you better, Andrew?” she whispered.

“Yes, thank you,” I could just utter in a low voice, “much better.” I wanted to say more, but could not.

“Leo! Leo!” she cried out, “call David! he will be so glad to hear that Andrew has returned to consciousness.”

I could just catch sight of the boys running past the hut.

“Where are we? what has happened?” I asked.

“Oh, that would take too long to tell you,” answered Kate. “You have been very ill for several weeks, and we have all been mercifully preserved from many dangers. You shall know all about it by-and-by. We are safe now, I hope, and Stanley has sent for assistance; but I must not talk more now.”

Chapter Eleven.

Our new Home in the Mountains.

Thanks to David’s skill, and the preservation of the medicine-chest, under God’s providence, I gradually recovered my strength. Several days passed, however, after the one I have mentioned when I returned to consciousness, before I could converse, or David would allow me to listen to a narrative of the events which had occurred since I was taken ill. My friends were employed in building huts and a stockade on a high hill which they had selected as a location to remain at till means of proceeding to the south could be procured. It was some hundred miles to the north of Walfish Bay, the nearest point where Europeans were located.

The first day I could sit up (I remember it well), Kate was by my side. A fresh breeze blew in at the open door of our hut, cooling my fevered brow. How beautiful all nature looked. We could gaze over a wide expanse of country, with blue hills on the left, and thick forests gradually breaking into scattered clumps of trees, and an open prairie reaching to the horizon towards the south. Below us I saw an extensive lake with a river flowing into it.

“There,” said Kate, “is the stream down which we came to this spot. How thankful I was when we reached it, for David said he had no hope of your recovery till we could find a resting-place, with pure air and a more bracing climate than we were passing through. It was dreadful to have you exposed so long to the damp night air, and the miasmas which arose from the river; but we are in safety now, and I try to forget all the dangers and anxiety we endured. It may be many weeks or months before we can again set out; but by that time, David says he hopes you will be thoroughly restored to health, and we shall be able to journey on with light hearts, and, I hope, find friends to welcome us at the end.”

“Oh, yes, dear Andrew,” exclaimed Bella. “You have no idea how frightened we often were; for we thought if the savages had stopped us or taken us away from you, that you would certainly have died. Sometimes we thought you were dead, you were so quiet and pale; but when you are well again, we shall not mind anything.”

“Hush, hush!” said Kate, “we must not talk to Andrew of what has passed. All is well now. Stanley is delighted with the place. There is an extraordinary abundance of game of all sorts, as he calls the wild animals which rove over those plains. Sometimes we can see from here herds of buffaloes, and cameleopards, zebras, and all sorts of deer and quaggas; and there are savage animals too—lions, rhinoceroses, and leopards, and elephants; indeed, he will not allow the boys to go far by themselves lest they should be attacked.”

“No, indeed,” said Bella; “for though Stanley does not always tell us his adventures, I suspect he has some narrow escapes. In the river and lake, too, there is an immense number of hippopotami and crocodiles. The boys went down to bathe soon after we arrived, and had a fright, which will prevent them ever doing it again. They were both in the water when a huge crocodile darted across towards them, and they had just time to scramble out and run away, leaving their clothes behind them, when Jack and Timbo, who were fortunately near, rushed down and drove the creature off.”

“It was indeed a mercy they were not seized,” said Kate. “But we must not talk more to you now, Andrew. Stanley says he could not have wished to go to a finer spot, and it is only necessary to be cautious to avoid danger from any of them.”

“Ah, here come the boys, and they have got a beautiful little animal between them. What can it be?” exclaimed Bella. “See, it has got small horns, and looks a graceful creature.”

“It must be an antelope of some sort,” said Kate; “but they will tell us.”

The boys, who were coming up the hill, soon reached the hut. “We have got a koodoo! It is for you, Bella,” they exclaimed in the same breath. “Chickango and Igubo caught it this morning, and have given it to us; but we are to take great care of it. See, it is already almost tame, but if we were to let it go it would soon be off.” Kate made a sign to them. They both stopped and looked eagerly at me.

“O Andrew, how glad I am to see you sit up,” cried Natty, on discovering that I knew them. “We were very unhappy about you; but now you will soon be yourself again, and till you are well enough to go about, our koodoo will give you plenty of employment, for Chickango says he requires careful nursing, just like one baby. We are to feed him with milk, and in a little time he will become as tame as Chico, though he will not play so many funny tricks, perhaps.”

The little koodoo, when brought up to Kate and Bella, allowed itself to be stroked, and put out its tongue and licked their hands, though I saw from its startled eye and the tremor in its slender legs that it was as yet far from happy in its captivity. In a short time David came in, and after he had congratulated me on my improved looks, examined the little animal.

“Yes, indeed, it is a pretty creature,” he observed; “but the full-grown one is still more beautiful. I saw several two mornings ago, which had taken shelter during the night in a thick wood which clothes the side of the hill at a short distance from this, and as they did not perceive me, I was able to observe them at leisure. The female is without horns, but the male has magnificent spiral ones upwards of three feet in length, which rise erect from his exquisitely-formed head, and give him an air of nobility and independence. The animal is about four feet high at the shoulder, and the general colour is a reddish grey, marked with white bars over the neck and croop. When walking slowly its action is very graceful. While watching the beautiful creatures I caught sight of a leopard lurking in the neighbourhood. I fired just in time to save the life of one towards which he was stealing. I missed the leopard, for I was at a considerable distance; but the report frightened the koodoos, and away they went, leaping over bushes, stones, and all impediments at a rapid rate, while the savage beast stole off, vowing vengeance, probably, against me for having disappointed him of his morning meal. The koodoo lives chiefly on buds and leaves and the young shoots of trees and bushes, and it is said that he is capable of going a long time without water. He is of a very timid disposition, but I am told, however, that when hotly pressed or wounded, he will sometimes face about and attack his pursuer. But we must now see about getting food for our young captive. We were, fortunately, on our way here, able to purchase half-a-dozen goats from some natives who had brought them from the south, and we must devote the milk of one of them to him.”

“But how can you make him drink it?” asked Bella.

“Just as we give it to babies,” said David, laughing. “I will make a sucking-bottle for him. It can very easily be done. See! that small gourd hanging up will answer the purpose. I will fasten a piece of linen and a small quill in the mouth, and we will try the little creature.”

“I will go and milk the goat,” cried Leo, rushing out. “You come and help me, Natty, though.”

Meantime David prepared the bottle, and in a few minutes Leo returned with a calabash full of milk.

“It is lucky I went,” said Natty, “for the goat had refused to be milked at this hour, and had knocked Leo over.”

“Yes, and she would have knocked you over, too, if I had not held her legs,” said Leo. “However, we managed it.”

“Why, how did you do that?” asked David.

“Oh, we tied her hind-legs to a post on one side and her fore-legs to another, and I held the head while Natty milked,” said Leo. “Poor goat!” observed Kate. “I suspect she will not allow you to play that trick again.”

The bottle was filled, and no sooner was it put to the little koodoo’s lips than the creature began pulling away in a very satisfactory manner, every now and then giving a butt at it as it might have done when obtaining milk from its mother. It satisfied us, however, that there would be but little difficulty in bringing up the creature. Chico had eagerly watched the operation from his corner in the hut, though he did not approach the new comer. As soon as the deer had done with the bottle, David hung it up, when the monkey, fancying himself unobserved, instantly made for it, and, greatly to our amusement, applied it to his own lips, and began sucking away till he had drained it dry. He then quietly attempted to hang it up again, though in this he failed, and the bottle fell to the ground.

“We cannot afford to give you milk. Master Chico,” said David; “but I will soon cure you of that trick.” Saying this, he went to his medicine-chest, which stood near, and having filled the bottle with water, put in a little powder, which he shook up. He then returned the bottle to its usual place.

“Now, take care, Master Chico, what you are about,” he observed. “You are not to touch that bottle, recollect.”

Chico looked at the bottle with longing eyes for an instant, then turned away, as if it was a matter of perfect indifference to him. In a short time he came down, and began to examine the little stranger, who seemed, however, in no way pleased with his presence.

“Oh, we will soon make you good friends,” said Natty. “I hope we shall have a happy family before long. Do you know, Andrew, we have already got several creatures, and have managed to tame many of them, so that they feed on the hill-side in view of the hut, and come back at night regularly, for fear of wild beasts.”

“Now, boys,” said David, “we have talked with Andrew long enough, and I think we must leave him to Kate’s care again. Your chattering is too exciting, and he has not got strong yet.”

“Oh, but we will be very quiet, and merely listen to him, if he is inclined to talk,” said Leo.

“That is the very thing I do not wish him to do,” observed David.

“I feel quite strong,” I said. “Pray do not send the boys away unless they wish to go.”

However, the doctor was inexorable. While we were speaking, Chico had stolen back to his corner. Presently I saw Leo eyeing him, and hiding his face for fear of laughing.

Chico by degrees made his way up to the bottle, and slily unhooking it, put the spout to his lips and began tugging away with might and main. Presently casting it from him, with a loud chattering he rushed back to his corner spluttering and spitting vehemently. Leo now gave way to his laughter, in which all the party joined. Even Kate could not resist laughing, nor could I, though my merriment was somewhat faint, I suspect. Chico looked indignantly at us, as if he did not at all like being made fun of.

“I told you,” said David, holding up his finger, “if you would drink from that bottle you would repent it.”

He now took the bottle, and offered the contents to Leo and Natty, which they naturally refusing, he emptied it, and washed it out thoroughly. “It is quite clean now for Master Koodoo,” he observed.

“Now, boys, take off your new pet, and try how quickly, by gentle treatment, you can tame it.”

“I must ask Chickango and Igubo to get me one,” exclaimed Bella. “I should like to have a beautiful creature like that for a pet, and I am sure I could soon make it love me.”

“That must depend on whether one happens to jump into a pit,” said Leo. “That was the way this one was caught. The mother managed to scramble out, but was shot while attempting to help her young one.”

“Yes, and it seemed very cruel to kill the creature at such a moment. I should not like to have done it,” observed Natty.

“That I am sure of,” whispered Bella. “Natty would never wish to hurt any creature.”

The boys now led off the little koodoo. Stanley soon afterwards arrived, followed by Jack, with some beautiful birds and several rock-rabbits which they had shot. They congratulated me warmly on being so much better. I caught sight also of Timbo, Igubo, and his two sons.

“What has become of Chickango?” I asked, afraid, from not seeing him, that some accident had happened.

“The faithful fellow has gone to Walfish Bay with Senhor Silva,” said Stanley. “We attempted in vain to find a native who would carry our message, and at last our Portuguese friend, though knowing the fearful risks he will run, undertook the journey, when Chickango insisted on accompanying him.”

“Well, Mr Crawford, I am main glad you are getting well again,” exclaimed Jack, when the rest of the party had retired. “I would have given my right hand for your sake, and often when I thought you were going to slip your cable, I was ready to burst out a-crying; but, as Timbo says, God is very merciful, and now I hope you will come round pretty quickly, since you have weathered the worst point, where, so to speak, there were most rocks and shallows, and are now in smooth water.”

I saw Timbo watching at a distance, and as soon as Jack had gone, he too came up.

“Oh, Massa Crawford, it do my heart good to see your eye bright again, and colour come back to de cheek. Me now no fear. You soon all right. I pray God night and day dat you get well, dat I do, and I go on praying still, for God hear de prayer of de black fellow, just as he hear de white man. Oh, Massa Crawford, it a great t’ing to be able to pray. If I no do dat I t’ink my heart sink down to the bottom of de river where de crocodiles crawl about; but when I pray it rise up just like a bird wid de big wings, and fly up, up, up into de blue sky.”

I thanked Timbo warmly for his regard, but still more for the prayers he had offered up; and I felt as sure as he did that they had not been disregarded. My father’s exhortation, I am glad to say, often came back to my mind. It was very delightful lying there in the shade, with the beautiful landscape and its countless numbers of inhabitants, and listening to Kate reading the Bible, in which we often came to passages, some peculiarly applicable to our position—so it appeared to me—others describing the wonders of God’s works which we saw displayed before us, and his love and mercy to man.

In a few days I had so much recovered that my friends insisted on carrying me down to take an excursion on the lake. The day was cool, for a fresh breeze played over the water. Leo and Natty begged to have the pleasure of paddling me.

“And we will go too, shall we not?” cried Bella to her sister. I was glad to find that Kate consented.

“And I must go to look after you,” said David, “and Timbo will stay at home to take care of the house.”

“Very well, if I go as captain,” said Jack; “but I cannot let you go and run your noses into the mouth of a hippopotamus or alligator, either of which, I have a notion, you would be likely to do.”

Stanley and the two black boys had gone off in the Giraffe, as he wished to shoot. I wished to walk down, but found, on attempting it, that I could not; indeed, I had become so thin that I was no great weight for my friends to carry. As soon as we had taken our places in the canoe, we shoved off. I was able to sit up and enjoy the scenery. To the west rose the lofty hills on the side of which our village was placed, for so I think I must call it, while on the left were woods with fine trees, and here and there a break through which the broad prairie could be seen extending as far as the eye could reach towards the south. We got glimpses of numerous animals moving in and about the woods, and some scampering over the plain. It was already late in the day when we embarked. As the weather was fine and the lake perfectly calm, we paddled down the centre to enjoy the greater purity of the air, away from the banks. The trip was so enjoyable that we were tempted to go further, perhaps, than was prudent. At length, unwillingly, David begged Jack to turn the canoe’s head homewards. As we were paddling along, we caught sight of Stanley’s canoe entering a creek out of the lake.

“Oh, see, see!” cried Bella, “what thousands of animals! I never saw so many collected together.”

Such indeed was the case. On the point nearest the lake some twenty or more huge buffaloes were standing drinking at the stream. Further on a whole herd of quaggas had come down, while through the woods could be seen the graceful horns of a troop of koodoos and other deer, though it was difficult to distinguish them among the trees. But we were more immediately interested with the numerous birds we were passing. It would be difficult to describe them all; but David, who was a good ornithologist, told us their names. Amongst them was one which seemed to run about on the surface employed in catching insects. It had long thin legs, and extremely long toes, which enabled it to stand on the floating lotus leaves and other aquatic plants invisible to our eyes. A lotus leaf, not six inches in diameter, was sufficient to support its spread-out toes, just as snow-shoes enable a heavy man to get over the soft snow. It was the Parra Africana. Then there were numbers of the pretty little wader, which looked exactly as if it was standing on stilts, from the length of its legs, while its bill appeared to be bent upwards, instead of downwards, as Leo declared it ought to be. David called it an avocet. “See,” said David, “the use of its bill!” It was wading in a shallow; and the form of its beak enabled it to dig up insects out of the soft sand far more easily than if it had been straight. We saw vast numbers of the large black goose walking about slowly and feeding. It had a strong black spur on the shoulder, with which it can defend its young. David told us that it forms its nests in ant-hills, and, of course, eats up the inhabitants. Among the several varieties of geese was the Egyptian or Chenalopex Aegyptiaca. It flew along over the surface, but appeared unable to rise. It would have been impossible to count the ducks which sat on the banks. Stanley fired among them, and almost filled his canoe with a few shots, as he afterwards told us. He had killed in one shot nearly twenty ducks and a couple of geese. But they were only some of the smaller birds. Further up were spoonbills with nearly white plumage; a tribe of stately flamingoes, such as I have before described; numbers of the demoiselle—an extremely graceful and elegant—looking bird—and a light blue crane, and another crane with light blue and white neck. We must have counted fifty or more specimens of the Ibis religiosa, and vast flocks of the large white pelican, which came following each other in a long-extended line, rising and falling as they flew. David cried out that they looked as if they were all fastened together like a thick rope made to move like a serpent. There were also innumerable plovers, snipes, curlews, herons, and other smaller birds. A number of those strange birds, the scissor-bills, were flying about near a sandbank on one side. They had snow-white breasts, black coats, and red beaks. We observed the hollows in which their nests were placed in the sandbanks, for they made no attempt to conceal them. “What brave little chaps they are!” exclaimed Leo. “See!” Some crows had approached as he spoke, when the scissor-bills flew after them and drove them off. As we drew near, however, the crows took to flight, when the little scissor-bills hung down one of their wings, and limped off, pretending to be lame. This trick did not, however, save the life of one of them, at which David fired for the sake of examining it. On getting the bird into the canoe, we found the lower mandible almost as thin as a carving-knife. The bird places it on the surface of the water as it skims along, and scoops up any minute insects which it meets with in its course. Its wings being very long, and kept above the level of its body, it can continue thus flying on for a considerable time, till it has supplied itself with an ample meal.

“By feeding at night, it probably escapes being snapped up by some hungry crocodile, which it would be if it fed thus close to the water in the day-time,” observed David. “The scissor-bill has great affection for its young, as indeed have most water-birds.”

On another bank we saw a number of pretty little bee-eaters congregated together. The bank was perforated with hundreds of holes conducting to their nests. As we passed by they flew out in clouds, darting about our heads. Then there were speckled kingfishers, and also beautiful little blue and orange kingfishers, which we saw dash down like shots into the water searching for their prey. There were sand-martins something like those seen in England; and from the trees also, as we passed under the banks, rose flocks of green pigeons. I must, however, bring my account of the feathered tribes we encountered in our trip to an end. Stanley’s gun soon created dismay and astonishment among them, and often the air, as he fired, seemed literally filled with birds. The zebras and quaggas started off and took shelter in the woods; but the buffaloes more firmly stood their ground, eyeing us with astonishment, and evidently not understanding the effect which a bullet would produce should it hit one of them. Suddenly too, from out of the water rose several huge heads of hippopotami, which made Bella cry out with dismay, for though we were by this time well accustomed to them, she had never got over her alarm at seeing the monsters.

“Oh, let us paddle away from those dreadful creatures!” she exclaimed. “I am sure they are going to swim after us. See, see! Oh, how horrible if they should seize Stanley’s boat! They are between him and us. He will never be able to come back.”

“Do not be afraid, Miss Bella,” said Jack. “The captain will give a good account of them. A bullet would soon send any one of them to the bottom.”

Jack, however, shouted out to Stanley, and pointed to the hippopotami. He had by this time got his canoe so full of birds that he could scarcely carry more, and he now came paddling after us, utterly regardless of the monsters. As he passed by, though they gazed at him with their savage eyes, and mouths half open, they did not attempt to approach; and the blacks continued to shout and shriek to keep them at a respectful distance. Stanley, having put specimens of the birds he had shot into our canoe till we could scarcely receive more, went back to knock over, as he said, a further supply, while we paddled homewards. David had now plenty of occupation in examining our prizes, while the boys paddled slowly onwards, assisted by Jack, who not only paddled, but steered also. We found Timbo waiting for us at the landing-place with the litter to carry me. He had a gun over his shoulder, and appeared to be keeping a bright look-out on every side, shouting every now and then at the top of his voice.

“What is it, Timbo?” asked David.

“Me see big lion!” he answered. “He mean mischief. Just now roar and roar again. He would like carry off Massa Andrew, but we no let him.”

“Oh, never fear,” cried Jack. “We will keep the biggest lion at bay if he should come near us, and will give him a shot which will make him wish he had kept away.”

“The lion is not likely to come near us when he sees so many people,” said David; “but we will be on our guard against his approach.”

I was immediately lifted on to the palanquin, and Jack and Timbo carried me up towards the house. All hands loaded themselves at the same time with birds, and Kate and Bella fastened as many at their backs as they could carry. Even then they were obliged to leave many behind for a second trip. David and Leo walked by the side of Bella, while Natty led the way. We had got halfway up the hill, when, from a thicket at some distance, a loud roar proceeded, and we saw the head of an enormous lion appearing from among the bushes.

“Roar away, old fellow,” cried Jack. “It will be the worse for you if you come here.”

“Shall I fire? I might kill him,” said David.

“No, massa, no,” answered Timbo. “If you hit him he come on in great rage. He now only angry because he dare not come near. Each time he roar we roar back, and dat keep him away;” and Timbo setting the example, the whole party set up a loud shout, with the exception of Kate. Little Bella, however, made her shrill voice distinctly heard. For my own part, I could not have attempted to shout. It showed me how prostrate I had been, for even now I had difficulty in slightly raising my voice.

Our shouting brought Chico to the door. As soon as he saw us he came hopping down the hill; but the next time the lion roared he gave a spring backwards, and turning round, rushed back into the hut.

“We must go down and warn the captain,” said Jack; “for if he does not know that the lion is in the neighbourhood, the beast may surprise him; and, at all events, he will want assistance in bringing up the birds.”

“We will go, then,” said Leo and Natty; and they set off together.

David, in the meantime, secured our cattle-pen, which probably had attracted the lion to the spot. At each side of the entrance a circular hut had been built, answering the purpose of the gateway towers of a castle. Igubo and his two boys occupied one of them, and Jack and Timbo the other. They were built of reeds closely bound together, and the doors were of the same material. These were strong enough to resist the attack of any wild beast, and were always kept closely shut at night. I felt somewhat tired after my day’s excursion; but some supper my kind cousins soon prepared restored my strength. They had got ready a more substantial meal for Stanley and his attendants, who now arrived.

“What do you think, Mr David?” I heard Jack exclaim. “If a big alligator has not got into the canoe and eaten up all the birds while we were away! It is fortunate we brought up as many as we did. However, the captain has got enough and to spare.”

“We will be even wid him,” said Timbo. “Igubo say he kill alligator. If he find him he get dem all back to-night.”

“Tell him he had better not make the attempt,” said Jack, “or maybe the lion will pick him up on his way to the river. We must give a good account of the brute to-morrow, or he will be doing us mischief.”

There was ample work that evening in plucking the birds and in salting down the larger number. I should have mentioned that a salt spring had been found on the side of the mountain; without it, indeed, I doubt if we should have been able to remain at the place, for we had already finished our supply of that necessary article.

There was no necessity to warn the rest to secure their doors at night. One man, it was agreed, should keep watch, as it was very likely the lion would attempt to get into the cattle-pen. As I lay asleep in my hut the roar of the lion entered into my dreams. Sometimes I thought he was flying at Kate, and I was in vain endeavouring to defend her. Once he had carried off Natty; and I saw Leo, his namesake, seated on his back and digging a spear into him. At last I started up, and was sure the sounds I heard were real, and no mere fancies of the brain. The whole of the inmates of our camp were on foot, and I heard them calling to each other. Presently there was a shot, followed by another tremendous roar.

“Can you see him?” I heard Stanley cry out.

“No, sir; he has made off,” answered Jack.

“I thought I hit him,” exclaimed Stanley.

“T’ink not,” said Timbo. “He no like sound of gun.”

After a time they all went back to the huts. I think I said I slept in David’s, for he acted as my nurse throughout my illness, and no one could have been more gentle and kind. Next morning Stanley and the boys hurried out to see if there were any marks of blood; but none were discovered, and it was therefore plain that the lion could not have been hit.

My companions had not been idle, I found, for they had cultivated a considerable piece of ground, and enclosed it, on one side of the cattle-pen. People in England have little notion how rapidly fruits come to perfection in the Tropics, where the account of Jonah’s gourd is completely realised. Thus, in time, we had all sorts of vegetables, which contributed greatly to keep my companions in health, and to restore my strength. Stanley’s gun also supplied us amply with animal food of the greatest variety, so that we were never on short allowance. Igubo and his sons were expert fishermen, and caught as many fish as we required. There were often more than we could eat fresh; the remainder were sun or smoke-dried, and, hung up, kept for a considerable time. The fishermen had to be careful not to fall into the jaws of crocodiles, who were constantly on the watch; and thus they often had to beat a rapid retreat to escape from the monsters.

Up to the time I am speaking of we had received no visits from the inhabitants, but Stanley, in his more extensive shooting excursions, had fallen in with a few, though the nearest village was about four miles off. It was situated in a valley to the north of us. The people appeared peaceably disposed. They seldom or never ventured far from their homes, having the means of supporting life and abundance of game round them. They also cultivated the soil sufficiently to obtain enough vegetables for their wants. Stanley had won their friendship by making them presents of birds and some animals, and in return they begged him to accept a supply of manioc, which Mango and Paulo brought to us. They look upon it as their staff of life, and as it is produced with very little labour, it well suits their habits. Stanley described the plantation which surrounded the village. The plants, he told me, grow to the height of six feet, and the leaves are often cooked as a vegetable; indeed, every part is useful. The roots are about four inches in diameter and eighteen long. To cultivate it the earth is formed into beds about three feet broad and one in height, and into these pieces of the stalk are placed about four feet apart. In about eight months, or sometimes rather more, the roots are fit to eat. There are two sorts, I ought to say. One is sweet and wholesome, and fit to eat when dried, and can at once be beaten into flour for making bread or cakes; the other is bitter, and contains poison, but is more quickly fit for food than the sweet sort. To get rid of the poison it is placed for four days in water, when it becomes partly decomposed. It is then taken out, stripped of the skin, and exposed to the sun. When thus dried it is easily pounded into a fine white meal. It is then prepared for food as ordinary porridge is made, by having boiling water poured upon it by one person, while another stirs it round till it is thoroughly mixed. Our black companions were very fond of it; but while we could obtain more substantial food, few of our party would condescend to eat it, except now and then as a change. The poison is of so volatile a nature that it is quickly got rid of by heat. Timbo made the meal into thin cakes, which, when baked on an iron plate, were pronounced very good. David told us that it was called cassava, as well as manioc, and that its scientific name was Jatropha manihot. After a few trials he contrived to manufacture a kind of starch, which I had often seen in England under the name of tapioca. He was delighted when he succeeded in producing it, and Kate at once made some very nice puddings from it, by mixing it with honey to give it flavour.

We obtained also from the village some yam roots, which had greatly the taste of potatoes, though of a closer texture. They also were placed in the sun to dry before being cooked, and we found by putting them in dry sand that they would keep well for a considerable time. The yam is the root of a climbing plant which David called the Dioscoreo-sativa. It had tender stems, eighteen to twenty feet in length, and sharp-pointed leaves on long foot stalks. From the base of the roots are spikes of small flowers. The roots are black and palmated, and about a foot in breadth. Within they are white, but externally of a very dark brown colour. Besides this another sort was brought to us a little time afterwards, called the Dioscoreo-alata, very much larger than the former. Some, indeed, were fully three feet long, and weighed nearly thirty pounds.

“How it would delight an Irishman’s heart to see a potato as big as this root!” exclaimed Leo. “It would be a hard matter, however, to find a pot big enough to boil it in, or to steam it afterwards, to make it mealy.”

Chapter Twelve.

Incidents during our Residence on the Mountain.

The boys were continually asking Timbo and Igubo when they were going to catch them another pet. They were with me one day when the two men arrived loaded with the flesh of an animal which Stanley had shot. “What is that?” I asked.

“He bery good eat,” was the answer; “like a little horse.”

“But what is it called in England?” I inquired. “Him zebra,” he answered; “mark over back. We cooky for supper.”

“I wish Stanley had caught him alive,” said Leo. “Now, Timbo, cannot you manage to get a young one for us, or a couple, and then we could break them in, and make them carry us.”

“Him no carry no one,” answered Timbo. “He wild. Kick off, even dough you stick on like Chico.”

“But we could soon teach Chico to ride it. I suspect that it would puzzle even a zebra to kick him off.”

“We will try,” said Timbo. “We go and make many pitfalls; but take care, Massa Natty, you no tumble in when tiger or leopard dere.”

I found that the men had already dug some pitfalls, though hitherto, excepting a koodoo, nothing had been caught in them.

Next morning they set off to visit the pits, accompanied by the boys. In rather more than an hour they came back, Leo and Natty dragging a beautiful little animal between them, while the two men brought the head and skin and a quantity of meat of another. David, who was with me, ran out to meet them.

“They have got a gemsbok!” he exclaimed; “one of the most interesting of the antelope tribe. It is known also as the oryx.”

“How did you catch it?” he asked.

“We found it in the pit!” exclaimed the boys at once; “the mother and the young one. Poor little creature. The mother fought so furiously that the men were obliged to kill her, and not till then could we get the young one out. But it will make a capital playmate for the koodoo.”

“It is very hungry,” said David. “We will try if it will take some milk.”

While Leo and Natty ran off to milk a goat, the men held the little animal, which, though it trembled, made no attempt to escape. David examined the head of the larger one. It had beautiful horns, nearly three feet in length, slightly curving backwards, and of a shiny black colour, and very slender. The mane and tail were very like those of a horse, while the shape of the head and the colour were those of an ass, the legs and feet, however, showing it to be an antelope. Both the horns were so exactly equal that I could fancy a person taking a side view of the animal might imagine them to be one and the same; and David said that the gemsbok has often therefore been supposed, by those who have seen it at a distance only, to be the unicorn which the ancients believed to exist. The little calf was of a reddish cream colour, and was so small that the horns had scarcely yet appeared. Timbo told us that the gemsboks were generally seen in small herds. Probably this one and its calf had been separated from their companions, as no others had been taken. It is one of the swiftest quadrupeds of Africa, indeed its speed is almost equal to that of the horse. Herds of them are generally found in districts devoid of water, as they can go a long time without drinking, having receptacles in their inside somewhat like those of a camel, though much smaller, for retaining fluid.

As soon as the milk was brought David tried to feed the little creature with a spoon instead of the bottle, and after a few attempts it willingly swallowed the milk. He then applied the bottle to its mouth, and as soon as it found out its contents it sucked it eagerly; he had hopes, therefore, of being able to bring it up. Kate and Bella, summoned by the boys, now came in to inspect their new pet. It allowed Bella to stroke it and pet it without evincing any fear, and when she fastened a handkerchief round its neck it followed her willingly.

“What a dear little creature!” she exclaimed. “We must give it a name, though. I do not think gemsbok is pretty. I like oryx better.”

“I am afraid, however, when he gets his horns he will prove rather a dangerous companion,” observed David, looking at the head of the larger animal which lay on the ground outside the hut. “It will fearlessly encounter the most savage animals of the desert, and instances have occurred where it has succeeded in killing even a lion or tiger which had incautiously sprung on its dagger-like weapon of defence.”

“Oh, it will be a long time before those grow!” said Leo. “We can pad them, or cut off their tips, and then it can hurt no one, even in play.”

Stanley and the two black boys were out hunting, and in the evening they appeared, the boys carrying slung on two poles an animal which we saw at once was alive.

“Why, it is a little horse!” cried Leo, running down the hill. “The zebra we have been so longing for!” exclaimed Natty.

They soon arrived at the encampment, Stanley highly delighted with his prize. It was curious that the two animals they had been so long wishing for should have been taken on the same day.

“He has given us a great deal of trouble,” said Stanley, as the little creature was brought up to be inspected by the girls and I. “I doubt if we shall ever make him reconciled to captivity. He struggled and kicked so much that we had great difficulty in getting hold of him, and as to making him come along with us, that was impossible. The harder we pulled one way the more determined he was to go another, and at length Mango suggested that we should sling him as you see, and he could then no longer help himself. But it was no easy matter to get him into the slings.”

The little zebra was somewhat more clumsily shaped than a pony’s colt, and about the size of one three or four weeks old. A pen had been built for the koodoo, and into this the two animals were now introduced. Koodoo gazed at them with looks of astonishment, but in a short time ran up to the little oryx and seemed to welcome it.

“I do not know whether they understand each other’s language,” said Bella, “but it strikes me koodoo is telling little oryx that he is very well treated, and recommending him to be reconciled to his fate.”

The zebra, however, would not go near them, and whenever they approached ran off round and round the pen. In a short time it became hungry, and David, accompanied by Timbo, with a calabash of milk, went in to try and feed it. Timbo had some difficulty in catching it, for whenever he drew near it kicked out viciously, and then scampered off. It was, however, at length caught, and though at first when David tried to put the milk into its mouth it kept its teeth closed just as as a child does when medicine is offered it, it at length allowed some to be poured down its throat.

I was now sufficiently recovered to walk about the camp with the aid of a stick. Sometimes Kate and Bella assisted to support me, and when Leo and Natty were within they were always ready to offer me their arms. We never ventured to leave the camp without a guard; for since the first visit of the lion I have described to our neighbourhood we had frequently heard his roar, although he had not ventured to come nearer. Our life, indeed, was not altogether free from anxiety, for we could not hide from ourselves the danger which the hunters especially ran from wild beasts, nor could we be certain either that the natives in the neighbourhood might not some day prove treacherous. Stanley, grown bold by immunity, increased the length of his expeditions, and frequently did not return till after nightfall. One day he went out accompanied by Igubo and his two sons, leaving the rest of us to work in the garden and to keep watch over the camp.

“How long shall you remain away?” asked Kate. “It makes us feel so anxious when you are absent.”

“You can dispense with our protection for a couple of nights, I hope, at all events,” he answered. “We have no enemies to fear; and, in truth, two nights spent in the wilds at a time are sufficient to satisfy even my love of sport. If we had waggons to carry our provisions, and horses to ride, the case might be different; but even if we get the game we cannot bring it back, so you may rely on our reappearance at the time I propose.”

I did not see them in the morning, as they went away before I had risen. Stanley had been absent two days, when, as the weather was cool, the boys begged me and their sisters to come down and take a paddle on the lake. I was able, I thought, to walk down and back again with their assistance, and as David thought I should benefit by the amusement, he advised me to go, Timbo remaining, while Jack went as captain. Chico, as usual, accompanied us, and hopping into the canoe, took his seat in the bows. As we paddled along we had abundance of matter to interest us, in the numerous birds which skimmed along the water or sat perched on the trees. Bella pointed out some beautiful turtle-doves, which were sitting happily on their nests above the water gently uttering their low coos to each other. Not far off we espied an ibis perched on the stump of a tree, shattered probably by lightning.

“I should like to bring her down for her impertinence,” cried Leo. “Listen to her loud ‘Wa—wa—wa.’ She is trying to drown the voices of your favourites, Bella.”

Though we passed close by, the ibis seemed in no way disposed to move, but continued shouting “Wa—wa—wa.” However, she was not allowed to cry alone, for near her sat three fish-hawks piping away in the same fashion. Leo was about to stop and take a shot at one of them, but Kate intreated him to let the bird alone, and we rowed on, leaving him and his companions piping away to their hearts’ content. Presently we saw a moderately-sized bird, like a plover, darting here and there, and uttering a peculiar sound. “Tine—tine—tine,” cried Leo; “what is that you say?” Presently a white-necked raven, which was sitting on a stump some way down, flew off, shrieking with fear, as the plover pursued it.

“Well, that is a coward,” said Leo. “He is running away from a bird half his size.”

“Very wise,” observed Jack. “Timbo, when he was out with me the other day, told me they call him the ‘hammering iron,’ on account of his ‘Tine—tine—tine’ cry. But it is not his cry which makes the raven fly off. He has got a sharp spur on his shoulder, just like that on the heel of a cock, and he could dig it into the raven, and soon draw its life-blood.”

On went the plover to a bank a little way ahead, where it pitched on what we thought at that distance was a log of wood. As we paddled up the seeming log turned into a huge crocodile basking in the sun.

“Stop paddling,” I cried to the boys. “Let us see what the plover is about.”

It ran along the back of the reptile, but stopped on the top of its snout, and then with perfect fearlessness actually flew down into its gaping mouth. I then recollected an account I had read of a bird on the Nile of that description, which is known by the name of siksak—the trochilus. It is stated by two or three credible witnesses that it performs the part of tooth-picker to the monster. Whether it was so occupied or not we could not tell, but presently the crocodile appeared to rouse itself up and to crawl towards the water, into which he plunged, diving down out of sight.

“There goes Master Tine—tine—tine flying away. I suppose he will go and warn his other friends,” said Jack. “That is his business, so Timbo says; and when these birds are about you can never get a shot at a crocodile.”

As we continued paddling on we were convinced that they had been warned of our approach, for they all betook themselves to the water long before we got near them. Proceeding we reached a part of the river where the banks were steep and composed of sand. Presently we saw a creature crawling out of the water, and making its way up the bank.

“What creature can that be?” asked Natty.

“A water-turtle!” I exclaimed; for I recognised it from the descriptions I had seen of it.

Presently it came to a steep part of the bank, and as it was climbing up it fell, and lay helpless on its back.

“We will make prize of him,” cried Jack. “Paddle away, boys.”

We were soon up to the bank, when Jack sprang out of the canoe, and before the turtle could recover itself he had seized it in his arms and placed it in the bottom of the canoe. There the creature lay utterly helpless. While the canoe’s bows were on the shore, Chico, who had got tired of sitting so long in one position, made a spring on to the land to pick some fruit which grew on a low bush at no great distance. The boys were so interested in watching the turtle that, without seeing that Chico was absent, they shoved off, and had already got to some little distance when they discovered that we had left one of our company behind. Chico, having filled his paws with fruit, ran down the bank.

“Hillo, old fellow!” exclaimed Jack, “we will come in for you.”

The current, however, just then took the canoe’s head, and we drifted some way down before we could turn back. At that instant we saw a ripple in the water, and presently the huge head of a crocodile was projected above it. The monster darted forward; and poor Chico, before he was aware of his danger, was seized by its huge jaws. In vain we cried out and shrieked at the top of our voices. The crocodile had got hold of its prey. Chico struggled, but he was as helpless as a mouse in the fangs of a cat. “Oh, save him, save him!” shrieked out Bella; but it was too late. Though the boys paddled with might and main, before they reached the shore the crocodile sank beneath the surface, dragging the poor ape with him. A little circle alone marked the spot where it had gone down.

“There is one who will pay you off for that,” cried Jack, looking into the water as if in search of the crocodile. “When Igubo hears of it he will be after you, depend on it.”

We all felt sad at the loss of our pet, and much as we had enjoyed the early part of the trip, it certainly spoiled the pleasure of the remainder.

“Poor Chico!” exclaimed Natty every now and then. “I little thought you would come to so untimely an end.”

Bella cried outright, and Kate could scarcely restrain her feelings. We now proceeded back to the landing-place, and Jack and the boys having drawn up the canoe to the spot where she usually lay concealed, we commenced our return home. My young cousins and Natty assisted me up the hill. We had got to about half the distance, when a loud roar came from the thicket I have before mentioned. “Roar away!” cried Jack, “you will not frighten us.” Bella, and even Kate, could not, however, help trembling at the sound; indeed, there is something peculiarly terrific in the cry of the lion in his native wilds. I trusted that he would confine himself to roaring, and not attempt to approach nearer. The boys and Jack looked to their guns.

“We will be ready for him if he dares to show his face,” cried Jack. “Now, you young gentlemen fire first, if he looks as if he was going to attack us. I will keep my fire in case you miss.”

The lion, however, allowed us to gain our home, where we found David and Timbo looking out for us, and ready to fire at the beast should he approach.

“But where Chico?” cried Timbo when he saw us. Jack told him what had happened. “When I tell Igubo, he soon punish crocodile,” he said. “Igubo great crocodile hunter.”

“But what have you there, Jack?” asked David, as he saw the turtle which Jack had brought up on his back. “Well, you have indeed a prize, for the turtle will be a pleasant addition to our bill of fare.”

When the girls went to their hut, we examined the water-turtle, which Timbo and Jack at once prepared for cooking. Opening it, we found that it had upwards of thirty eggs in its body. The shells were flexible, and the same size at both ends, like those of the crocodile.

“Dis make one bery fine dish,” said Timbo, “and de liber is first-rate. We hab it ready for when de captain come back.”

“We must leave the charge of cooking it to you,” said David, “for I doubt whether my sisters will understand the art so well.”

Part of the turtle was cooked, and supper made ready, but still our friends did not appear. Night drew on, and we became somewhat anxious. At last David advised his sisters to take supper and to return to their hut, while we sat up waiting for the party. Hour after hour passed by, and still they did not appear. At last David insisted on the boys and I going to bed, while he and Jack and Timbo kept watch. Every now and then we could hear the roar of the lion in the distance, replied to by their loud shouts to scare him away. I could only hope that my cousins were asleep: as for myself, I could not close my eyes. Not a breath of wind was stirring, not a sound was heard except that ominous roar which occasionally broke the silence of night. At length David came in, pretty well tired out, and lay down, saying that Jack had undertaken to keep the morning watch. I also, in spite of my anxiety, at last fell asleep. I awoke suddenly with the sound of the lion’s roar in my ears. It seemed far louder and dearer than before. Could it be fancy? The morning light was streaming in through an opening over the door, which we had left to admit air. Again I heard that fearful roar. I started up, for it seemed to be in the very midst of our camp. I thought of my young cousins and the boys, who were likely enough to have gone out early. I sprang to the opening, and there I saw, in the very midst of the cattle-yard, an enormous lion, his head lifted up proudly, while his huge paws were placed on one of the animals he had struck down. Never had I seen so magnificent a creature—his vast mane covering his neck and shoulders, while his tail waved to and fro as a signal of defiance, looking up as if he saw an enemy approaching. The other animals, terror-stricken, were trying to force their way out of the yard. I could see no one. What had become of Jack and Timbo I could not tell. They could not have deserted their posts, for both had given too many proofs of courage to make me suppose so. Calling to David, who was yet sleeping soundly, I seized my gun; but when I returned, the lion had gone, with the animal he had struck down. David and I rushed out of the hut. At that moment there were several shots. Looking out in the direction from which the roars had previously come, I saw the lion bounding away along the hill, still apparently unwounded.

“Has he gone? has he gone?” I heard Leo and Natty shouting out. “Yes, yes! and he has carried off our little gemsbok!”

“But where are Jack and Timbo?” I asked. “How was it they let the creature come in?”

“They heard some shots in the distance, and thinking that they were fired as signals by Stanley and his party, they were just setting off to meet them, and the lion must have taken that opportunity of coming into our camp. They had not got far, and must have caught sight of the lion as he was making his escape. It is a mercy the girls are safe!”

As they were speaking, Jack and Timbo came back. “Well, I never did think he was going to play us so scurvy a trick,” exclaimed Jack, “or we would not have left the camp. But what do you fancy those shots can mean, Mr Crawford?”

Both David and I agreed, however, that they were probably fired by Stanley or his companions, either at some animals, or as a signal to give us notice of their return; and we therefore begged Jack and Timbo to proceed as they had purposed, while we remained on the watch for the lion, should he venture to come back. Kate and Bella now came out of their hut, and great was their grief at hearing of the loss of one of their pets—the most promising, indeed, of all, for in a few days it had become so thoroughly tame, that it would follow them about like a lamb. They, like us, had been kept awake the greater part of the night, and, owing to this, had not been aroused by the sound of the lion’s voice; indeed, the events I have described occupied less time than I have taken to write them. The boys now employed themselves in collecting the trembling animals, who had not yet recovered from the fright which the appearance of their dread enemy had given them. The little koodoo and zebra had, however, been safe in their pen, or they would probably have run off, and we should have seen no more of them.

“I did not fancy that a lion could have leaped so high a palisade,” said David; “but I see we must take other measures to secure our camp for the future. I believe that even a lion cannot break through an enclosure of prickly-pear, and I propose that as soon as Stanley comes back we all set to work to surround our camp with a thick line of it; and if we fasten a fringe of its sharp leaves to the top of our fence, we shall be able to bid defiance to either lion or leopard. I doubt, indeed, if elephants, or even human beings, would willingly assail such a fortification as ours will then be.”

I fully agreed with David, and we settled that we would immediately set to work and collect the cactus plants which grew in abundance on the hill-side.

“They will be very hungry when they do come back,” said Kate, “and therefore, Bella, you and I will prepare breakfast for them forthwith.”

David and I assisted them in getting the repast ready, and our anxiety was shortly relieved by Leo running in exclaiming that Stanley and all hands were coming up the hill. “They have got no end of game,” he added—“birds and beasts enough to feed us all for a month to come, if we were in Siberia and could freeze the meat and keep it till we want it, instead of being in the middle of Africa. Unless we can salt it pretty quickly, however, it will not be fit for much by to-morrow morning.”

Having thus delivered himself, he ran out again, and down the hill. In a short time our friends arrived, pretty well tired out, however, for they had been to a long distance, and found it impossible to reach home the night they had intended. They had therefore encamped a few miles off, and started again at dawn. The shots we had heard had, as we supposed, been fired by them to give us notice of their approach. They had pushed on without stopping for breakfast, and were duly grateful to Kate and Bella for enabling them thus speedily to satisfy their hunger.

Stanley said he had a long account to give us of their adventures. They had fallen in with a native village, the inhabitants of which appeared to be inclined to be friendly, and had invited them to join in a grand hunting expedition. “I will tell you all about it as soon as I have eaten something,” said Stanley. “But what is this I hear of a visit from a lion? Did the brute actually dare to leap into the midst of our camp and carry off one of its inmates? It shall not be the fault of my rifle if he does not pay dearly for his freak before another sun rises.”

Chapter Thirteen.

Stanley’s adventures among the people of Kabomba.

We were, of course, eager to hear Stanley’s adventures.

“Finding the day tolerably cool, though I doubt if our friends in England would have called it so, we pushed on further south than we have ever gone before,” said Stanley. “The country, though wooded in parts, was generally open, and we had little difficulty in making our way across the prairie. I have never seen such large herds of buffaloes, zebras, gnus, rhinoceroses, and giraffes. Had we been mounted, we should have had no difficulty in coming up with them, but on foot it was a very different matter. Often, as we got up to them, almost within range of our rifles, they were off again, leaving us standing alone, without a hope of overtaking them. As the sun rose higher and grew hotter, the buffaloes and rhinoceroses retired to their coverts, as did many of the other animals, the zebras and giraffes alone defying the sun’s rays. I now hoped, by keeping under shelter of the woods, we might the more easily surprise some of the animals we were in search of. Before proceeding further, however, I proposed that we should open our wallets and dine; and having selected a shady spot under tree at a little distance from the forest, where there was probability of our being surprised by any prowling leopard or hungry lion, we formed our noonday camp. We had not sat long, when Mango came in and told us that he had seen the head of a buffalo projecting from the forest at some little distance, and that he was sure there must be several there. I had been so annoyed at not killing anything, that, without finishing my dinner, I set off with Mango to try and reach the spot unobserved by our expected prey. We at once got under shelter of the wood, and worked our way along through the borders of the forest, hoping to get up to the spot without disturbing the herd. Mango at length made me understand by signs that we had now reached the place where he had seen the buffalo. I can tell you they are very different animals from those we met with further to the north. These are pictures of brute strength and ferocity, their horns, short and curling, but pointed like daggers, meeting at the roots, where they form a thick mass, serving as a helmet to the animal. I was afraid of coming suddenly upon them, for I knew that if startled they would be off before I could obtain a shot. Mango was positive that we were near them. He suggested at last that we should climb a tree, whence we might survey the neighbourhood. Finding one, we mounted it, and when I had got a steady footing, I looked round me, hoping to discover the animals. Not a living creature, however, stirred. At last my companion pointed out some dark objects just seen indistinctly through the thick foliage. They were the backs of the buffaloes, I had little doubt. I fired, but nothing moved, and I could not help supposing that I had mistaken some large stone for a living creature. To settle the matter, I again loaded and fired. At the report of the gun, half-a-dozen superb male buffaloes sprang to their feet, and, tossing their heads, sniffed the air for a few seconds, and darted off through the wood. My companion and I immediately descended the tree and I made chase in the hopes of coming up with them by following their tracks. We proceeded for some little way along the borders of the forest, when Mango stopping, pointed ahead, and I saw a vast herd of buffaloes—there might have been nearly three hundred of them—suddenly rushing out of the wood, overthrowing and stamping down every object they met with in their headlong course. We rushed back towards the wood, where alone we could hope for safety. A portion of it projected some way at an angle from that part whence the buffaloes had issued. They espied us, however, and came tearing on across the open. We dashed in among the underwood, but before we had got far they were at our heels. Two savage brutes led the way. The horns of the first were almost into poor Mango. A tree with low branches was near me. It would afford us the only prospect of safety. Had I stopped for a moment to fire, it would have been too late, and it might not have served to turn them in their course. I sprang to the tree, helping up the boy, who had barely time to get out of the way of the leader’s horns, when the herd rushed by us. I turned round and fired, but having to cling to the tree, I had great difficulty in taking aim. The effect of the report was to bring the whole herd to a halt, and, facing round, they confronted us in one dark and formidable phalanx, as if they had resolved to besiege us in our tree. I remembered the way you, Andrew, had been caught by the elephant, and I fancied that the buffaloes were about to treat us in the same manner. One or two buffaloes might have been disposed of, but we had not ammunition sufficient to kill one half of our assailants, even should each bullet lay one low. They kept looking at us with savage glances, as if determined to punish us for our audacity. They looked, indeed, as if they could very easily have brought the tree in which we were perched down to the ground; and so they might, if they had known how to do it. I, however, resolved to try the effect of a few shots. I fired one, and felt sure I had hit the animal—a large bull—but he did not move. Again and again I fired, but, strange as it may seem, neither he nor any of the herd moved a foot, though they eyed me and my companion all the time with an ominous look, as if resolving how they should treat us. Every moment I expected them to charge. Suddenly, as I was about to fire for the fourth or fifth time, the whole herd, wheeling about with a curious shriek rather than a bellow, their heads lowered to the ground, and their tails swishing to and fro vehemently over their backs, off they set at a furious pace, which made the very ground tremble under their feet. Mango and I were left to follow them if we chose, or return to camp. We did the latter. I must confess I felt somewhat ashamed of my want of success when I resumed my seat by the fire. I consoled myself, however, with a couple of pigeons which Igubo had in the meantime roasted. Though we saw vast quantities of game of all sorts, we were equally unsuccessful, and at length I proposed to return, when Igubo pointed out some smoke rising over a belt of forest which appeared before us. He said that he was sure it arose from a native village, and as I was anxious to make the acquaintance of our neighbours, I resolved to push forward and visit them. I sent Igubo on ahead to win the confidence of the people by showing them that he was unarmed. He soon made a signal to us to come on, and I found him and the chief man apparently on the most friendly terms. The chief, a remarkably stout black, wore a scanty petticoat, with a fillet of crocodile’s teeth round his head, a similar ornament on his neck, and bracelets on his arms. He was attended by a drummer, who, as I approached, beat with might and main to do me honour. His followers were armed with shields made of reeds, very cleverly woven, sufficiently long to protect the whole body and legs, and about three feet broad. At their backs hung quivers of iron-headed arrows, and two short broadswords were slung to their sides. The chief invited us into his hut. It was of good size, with a verandah in front. In a short time his wife and her attendants brought a large mess of manioc flour and some pieces of cooked meat, but what it was I did not at first inquire. After eating some, Igubo told me that it was zebra’s flesh. In a hut opposite the chief’s house, I observed the figure of an animal. On examining it I found that it was formed of grass, plastered over with soft clay. The eyes consisted of two cowrie shells; and a number of bristles, which appeared to be taken from elephants’ tails, formed a sort of frill round the neck. It was more like a crocodile than any other animal; but Igubo inquiring, was told that it was a lion, though certainly it was very little like the king of beasts. On further inquiries, I found that it was the principal idol, or fetish, of the inhabitants, and that when the chief or any of the people are ill, their fetish men, or priests, assemble before it, and pray and beat drums, either to propitiate it or to arouse its attention, that it may drive away the evil spirits which they believe are the cause of the malady.”

“Poor people, dey know no better,” observed Timbo; for, with the privilege of an old servant, he did not scruple to join in our conversation at all times. “I go and talk to dem and tell dem better t’ings. I tell dem dat dere is one God who lubs dem, and when dey are ill dat dey pray to him. Dat he hear dem, when de fetish hab no ears to hear, and no way to do dem good.”

“Oh yes, Timbo,” said Natty, “I should like to go with you to those poor savages. It is sad to think that they should be so ignorant. I am sure it is our duty to try to tell them the truth.”

“Yes, Massa Natty, we will go, please God,” cried Timbo, looking at Natty with a glance of approbation.

“Timbo and I must beg your pardon for interrupting you, Captain Hyslop,” said Natty. “Pray go on.”

“Unfortunately, I could not understand their language sufficiently well to enter into such matters,” observed Stanley. “I was going to say that their village was surrounded by palisades, very similar to those we have seen. The people were clothed in even more scanty garments than usual. On finding that we came without any hostile intentions, and were more likely to give than receive of them, they cordially welcomed us. They were in a state of commotion, nearly the whole village being prepared to turn out on a grand hunt. When they understood that we also were hunters, they invited us to accompany them. They had been forming for some time past a huge trap, called a hopo, about three or four miles away, near a stream in the neighbourhood, at which large numbers of game were accustomed to assemble. As the narrow end was toward the village, we were able to examine it on our way. The hopo consists of two hedges formed of stakes and boughs driven into the ground at a considerable distance from each other, toward the end opening into the wild part of the country where animals are likely to be found, and closing in toward each other till they almost approach. They then form a narrow passage, some sixty yards long, at the end of which a pit is dug, eight or ten feet deep, and fifteen or more in length and breadth. We found that trunks of trees were laid across the two ends, to prevent the animals which leap in from scrambling out again, which they would otherwise very easily do. The pit itself was also surrounded by high palisades, bound together by cross-pieces. Thus it formed a complete trap, from which it seemed almost impossible that any animals which have once entered could escape. The hole was likewise covered over with a sort of matting of green rushes, which concealed the pit below. As I and my dark-skinned companions proceeded along the hedge, I thought we should never come to the end of it. I calculated, indeed, that the hedges were upwards of a mile long, and the same distance apart at their extremities. The hunters now extended themselves, each man keeping within sight of the other, forming a circle round the broad entrance of the hopo of four or five miles in extent, thus surrounding a large area. I could see within it immense numbers of animals, giraffes, zebras, buffaloes, gnus, pallas, rhinoceroses, hartbeests, and, indeed, all sorts of deer, large and small. At a signal from their chief, which was passed along the line, they began to close in, shouting and shrieking at the top of their voices. On we went, the semicircle gradually decreasing, till we were within speaking distance of each other; and every mile we advanced the animals appeared to grow thicker and thicker, and I could count a dozen or more creatures of different species in sight at the same moment. Now a herd of a dozen buffaloes, now twenty zebras and as many cameleopards might be seen scampering over the plain, followed by numerous steinboks or koodoos, graceful oryxes or hartbeests leaping and bounding away before them. Now and then some of the animals would turn round and charge their pursuers, who fled on either side, darting their spears and often transfixing them. The zebras were amongst the most difficult to drive in. They seemed aware of their danger, and now one, open-mouthed, would charge at a hunter, who had to defend himself with his shield; and then a whole herd would break away, and, dashing through the cordon, gallop back to their native wilds. Still numbers were driven on. Buffaloes and giraffes were flying together, all fancying that they were escaping a common danger, while rushing on to destruction. At last the hedges of the hopo were reached, and on the outer side numerous hunters were stationed, shouting, and shrieking, and shaking their spears and shields, still further to increase the confusion of the terror-stricken animals. When any of them approached the hedge, a well-aimed spear was planted in their sides, the cries of the stricken animals increasing the terror of the rest. On pressed the hunters, driving the game closer and closer together, till, pressed up in one dense mass, even the most wary could no longer attempt to turn and fly. Fearful was the din of the shrieks and shouts which rent the welkin. The leading animals dashed madly forward, thinking to escape from their foes behind. The remainder followed, unable to see over the heads of those in front, but hoping that they had found a way to escape.

“By Igubo’s advice, I had gone on the outside; for, in truth, the line of hunters which pressed on through the hopo was exposed to no little danger from the maddened beasts, which even now occasionally turning round, dashed through them, and the greatest activity alone could have saved the men from being trampled on by the terrified animals. Now a huge buffalo would leap into the pit through the slender covering of rushes; now a tall giraffe would go toppling over; an active koodoo or gemsbok would spring over their heads, to fall hopelessly into the same trap. In a short time the whole pit was filled with a living, moving, struggling mass of animals, fearful to look at. The savage hunters, wild with excitement, were spearing with relentless eagerness the poor creatures, those below being borne down by the weight of their hapless fellows who brought up the rear. A beautiful koodoo was among the latter. On it came, leaping away, having escaped the spears of its enemies. It reached the fatal pit. I could not help feeling an interest in the creature. Would it too be added to the victims? It hesitated not a moment, but bounding over the beams, seemed scarcely to touch the animals below, as with a spring it cleared the opposite side. In vain the hunters darted their spears. Off it dashed like the wind, and the satisfaction I felt at its escape made some amends to me for the misery and suffering I had beheld. I literally turned sick with horror, and hope I may never witness such a scene again. The savages, however, seemed to consider it magnificent sport, and stood over the pit plunging their spears into any animal which appeared moving. So far I was thankful, as it put them out of their misery. The hunters did not altogether escape. Some got severe kicks; several had been knocked over and trampled on, in spite of their activity. They had succeeded, however, in driving upwards of forty animals into the pit; for, of course, of those which had been first assembled, a large number had escaped, while a good many had been speared to death before reaching it, and others had escaped into the wilds with spears in their sides, there in most instances to die miserably. Their success put our new friends in excellent humour. They shouted, and shrieked, and danced as they hauled up the animals one by one out of the hopo, and eagerly commenced cutting them up and dividing the flesh. All was meat for their pots—the zebra and giraffe, as well as the buffalo and deer.

“It was nearly evening before the work was over. They pressed us to remain to see another on the following day, but I had had enough of it, and more than enough, indeed. I do not know how the case would have been if I had been very hungry and wanted food. Probably I might have experienced some of the satisfaction which our savage friends did. Igubo and his sons were highly delighted at the number of animals caught, at the same time he acknowledged that the way among his own people of catching game was far less cruel. Further to the north, large nets are spread round the trunks of trees, towards which the animals are driven, much in the manner I have just described. The nets, however, only serve for smaller animals, as large ones would break through them. People are stationed behind the trees to spear any creature of larger size which seems likely to break the nets.

“Our friends pressed on us some of the meat, which, as we had a few articles to give in exchange, we accepted, and parted very excellent friends.

“As I had no wish to spend a night in their huts, we pushed on as far as we could homewards, and did not stop while a ray of sunlight enabled us to see our way. We were pretty well tired with our day’s exertions, but it was necessary to light fires, not only to cook our supper, but to guard ourselves against visits from any of the lions or hyenas which might be prowling about. We all therefore set to work to collect wood as fast as we could. While thus employed, I heard young Mango cry out; but on looking round in the direction where I had last seen him, he was nowhere visible. A dread seized me that a lion had carried him off; but again I heard him cry out, and on hurrying forward I was very nearly going head over heels into a deep pit, into which he had fallen. I shouted out to Igubo, who came to my assistance; and with the help of our belts we hauled him up. Mango’s chief alarm had arisen from the dread of finding some animal at the bottom. I was very glad, when we drew him up, to discover that, excepting a few slight bruises, he was none the worse for his tumble.

“As may be supposed, we were cautious after this how we moved about, for we well knew that where one pit-fall had been formed, probably many more existed in the neighbourhood. We were glad when at last we had collected a sufficient supply of wood to last us through the night; and I almost fell asleep while putting the meat and cassava bread into my mouth. We had placed our packs by our sides, using some logs of timber for our pillows. Igubo had promised to keep the first watch; and so he did, I have no doubt, to the best of his ability. When, however, I at length awoke, I saw the fire very low, though there was just flame enough to cast its light on a creature stealthily creeping up towards us. I expected the next instant to be engaged in deadly combat with a panther or a lion. I sprang to my feet, seizing my rifle and calling to my companions. The next moment I saw that the creature was a jackal, and scarcely worthy of a shot. Still undaunted, he was on the point of seizing one of the packs nearest to him, when I hove a log of wood at his head. On this he beat a retreat, uttering a mocking shout of laughter—so it seemed to me—and quickly disappeared. The alarm he had caused prevented us wishing again to go to sleep; and well it was we did not, for directly afterwards the roar of a lion broke the silence of night. Igubo threw more logs on the five, and as the flames burst up we saw two or three huge monsters stalking round us, but afraid to approach. Now they came near enough for the light of the fire to shine on them; but directly afterwards, even before I could get my rifle ready to shoot, they had disappeared in the dark shades of the surrounding trees or bushes.

“As soon as it was daylight, we once more commenced our march. We had not gone far, when the two boys, who were a little in advance, came rushing back with countenances of dismay, to let us understand that they had suddenly come upon some huge beast which was on the point of springing on them. We advanced, in consequence, cautiously, expecting every moment to meet the monster. In a short time we caught sight of a gigantic tiger-wolf, or spotted hyena, sitting under a bush, and growling fiercely at us. I raised my rifle to fire, expecting the beast to spring; but it sat without moving. On getting nearer, what was my horror to see that his forepaws and the skin and flesh of the legs had been gnawed away! Still he showed his savage nature by endeavouring to crawl towards us. To put an end to his sufferings, I fired at his head, when he sank to the ground; and Igubo, running up to him, seized him by the tail, and struck him several times with his knife, though it was not until after repeated blows that an end was put to the creature’s existence. How he had been thus mangled, I could not at first understand, till Igubo asserted that it had been done by a lion; that probably they had quarrelled over their prey, and that then the lion had attacked him and mangled him in the dreadful manner I have described. Had we not found him, he would certainly have died miserably in the course of another day or two, and very likely have fallen a victim to an army of soldier-ants.

“We met with several other adventures during the day, and managed somehow or other to lose our way, or we should have reached home before nightfall. Contrary to our intentions, we had therefore to camp out for another night. We had an ample supply of food, but no water could be found, and we had little more than a couple of pints to divide among us, which, though it might have been sufficient to supply an old lady with a cup of tea, was but little to satisfy the thirsty throats of travellers in this burning clime.”

When Stanley heard of the attack made by the lion on our camp, he declared that he must set out at once and put a stop to his depredations. After a consultation, however, with Igubo, he agreed to wait till the evening, when they supposed the lion would go down to a spot near the river to drink. It was a small creek, rather, where the banks were sufficiently low and hard to allow the animals to reach the water without difficulty, which they could not do at many places along the borders of the lake on account of the wide fringe of reeds and thick underwood which encircled it.

“Is the gemsbok the only animal we have lost?”

“Oh no, indeed,” cried Leo. “Poor Chico is gone!”

“What I did the lion carry him off?” asked Stanley.

“Oh no. A horrid monster of a crocodile,” answered Leo. “I wish we could punish the brute.”

Igubo seemed to understand what was said. “I do it,” he remarked.

“Yes,” said Timbo; “he say he kill crocodile; no ’fraid of crocodile!”

How he was going to manage it, however, he did not inform us.

As may be supposed, Stanley dropped to sleep over his breakfast, and was glad directly afterwards to go to bed. Igubo and his boys followed his example; but after a few hours’ rest, they again appeared, as fresh as if they had not been undergoing severe exertion for a couple of days under an African sun.

“You come and see Igubo kill de crocodile,” I heard Timbo say to Leo and Natty.

Igubo had provided himself with a piece of one of the animals which he had brought home, and which had become no longer eatable. He had fastened it to the end of a long rope, and his sons carried it down to the water. Timbo and Jack, with the two boys, set off after them; and, taking my rifle, I followed to see what would happen.

On reaching the river, Igubo threw in the meat as far as he could, fastening the end of the rope to the trunk of a tree. Then, on his making a sign to us to hide ourselves, we retired behind some bushes. In a short time the rope was violently tugged, and Igubo, throwing off his scanty garments, drew his sharp knife from its sheath, and sprang into the water. I could not refrain from crying out, and entreating him to come back; but he paid no heed to me, and swam on. Presently he disappeared, and I felt horror-struck at the thought that a crocodile had seized him; but directly afterwards the snout of the huge monster appeared above the water, Igubo rising at the same time directly behind it. The creature, instead of attempting to turn, made towards the bank, at a short distance off. Igubo followed; and I saw his hand raised, and his dagger descended into the side of the creature. Still the crocodile did not attempt to turn, but directly afterwards reaching the bank, climbed up it. Igubo followed, and again plunged his knife into the monster’s side. Every instant I expected to see him seized by its terrific jaws; but the creature seemed terror-stricken, and made no attempt at defence. Again and again the black plunged in his knife, while the crocodile vainly endeavoured to escape. The next instant Igubo was on its back, and the creature lay without moving. A few minutes only had passed. It opened its vast jaws, each time more languidly than before, till at length it sank down, and, after a few struggles, was evidently dead. Igubo, springing up, flourished his knife over his head in triumph. Jack, running to the canoe, began to launch it. We all jumped in, and paddled off to the bank, Timbo bringing the rope with him. We fastened it round the crocodile’s neck, and towed the body in triumph to the shore, up which we hauled it.

“Igubo say we find eggs not far off,” said Timbo.

Mango and his brother, at a sign from their father, began at once hunting about, and in a short time called us to them. There was a large hole in the bank concealed by overhanging bushes. It was full of eggs, about the size of those of a goose. On counting them we found no less than sixty. The shell was white and partially elastic, both ends being exactly the same size. The nest was about four yards from the water. A pathway led up to it; and Igubo told Timbo, that after the crocodile has deposited her eggs, she covers them up with about four feet of earth, and returns afterwards to clear it away, and to assist the young out of the shells. After this, she leads them to the water, where she leaves them to catch small fish for themselves. At a little distance was another nest, from which the inmates had just been set free; and on a sandbank a little way down we caught sight of a number of the little monsters crawling about. They appeared in no way afraid of us as we approached, and Mango and his brother speared several. They were about ten inches long, with yellow eyes, the pupil being merely a perpendicular slit. They were marked with transverse stripes of pale green and brown, about half an inch in width. Savage little monsters they were, too; for though their teeth were but partly developed, they turned round and bit at the weapon darted at them, uttering at the same time a sharp yelp like that of a small puppy when it first tries to bark. Igubo could not say whether the mother crocodile eats up her young occasionally, though, from the savage character of the creature, I should think it very likely that she does, if pressed by hunger. As is well-known, the Ichneumon has the reputation on the banks of the Nile of killing young crocodiles; but Igubo did not know whether they ever do so in this part of the world. He and his boys collected all the eggs they could find, declaring that they were excellent for eating. They however told us that they should only consume the yoke, as the white of the egg does not coagulate. When it is known what a vast number of eggs a crocodile lays, it may be supposed that the simplest way of getting rid of the creatures is to destroy them before they are hatched. It would seem almost hopeless to attempt to exterminate them by killing only the old ones. However, I fancy they have a good many enemies, and that a large number of the young do not grow up. As we were walking along the bank, we saw, close to the water, a young crocodile just making his way into it; and Mango, leaping down, captured the little creature. Even then it showed its disposition by attempting to bite his fingers. On examining it, we found a portion of yoke, almost the size of a hen’s egg, fastened by a membrane to the abdomen; and when we afterwards carried it up to David, he told us that he had no doubt it was left there as a supply of nourishment, to enable the creature to support existence till it was strong enough to catch fish for itself. Igubo declared that they caught the fish by means of their broad scaly tails. The eggs, I should say, had a strong internal membrane, and a small quantity only of lime in their composition.

We had some difficulty in inducing our friends to believe the account we gave them of Igubo’s exploit. He however undertook, if they were not satisfied, to kill a crocodile in the same way another day.

“Oh! pray tell him not to make the attempt!” exclaimed Kate. “It is far too perilous; and though he may succeed once or twice, some day another crocodile may come in support of its companion and carry him off.”

Igubo only laughed when this was said to him. He had killed crocodiles in that way since he was a boy, and there was no reason why he should not do so as long as he was able to swim.

While speaking of crocodiles, I should observe that the family of huge saurians, to which the monsters belong, is divided into three genera: Alligator is peculiar to America; Crocodilus is common both to the Old and New World; while a third, Gavialis, is found in the Ganges and other rivers on the continent of India. They differ in appearance from each other, but their habits in most respects are similar. The true crocodile, however, frequents occasionally the mouths of large rivers where the salt water enters, and it has been known to swim between different islands at considerable distances from each other. I believe that at the commencement of my journal I have sometimes inadvertently written alligator instead of crocodile, when speaking of the monsters we encountered so frequently.

Chapter Fourteen.

Stanley gains Credit among the Natives as a Lion-Killer.

Again during the night the roar of the lion was heard. It put Stanley in a perfect fever; but David persuaded him not to go out and attempt to shoot the creature, as he was completely knocked up by the exertion of the previous days. The rest of us employed our time in collecting the prickly-pear for fortifying our post, as David had proposed. It was no easy matter, however, to cut the plants down.

“If we were to throw a rope over them, and draw the leaves on one side, we might do it,” said Natty. “A good suggestion,” I observed.

We carried it out. While the grown-up members of the party cut down the armed plants, the boys with ropes dragged them in large bundles up to the camp, round which we began to form with them a broad belt. It was hard work; but as there were numerous plants growing about, we had not far to go. We were encouraged to persevere by the assurance that our fortress would thus be almost impregnable to the attacks of wild animals. We yet further secured it by driving in stakes pointed at both ends outside the belt, which thus answered the purpose of a dry ditch, only it was more difficult even than a ditch would have been for unprotected feet to cross over.

At daylight next morning we continued our work, and had made considerable progress before the heat of the sun compelled us for a time to knock off. We had three fires lighted in the centre of our yard, and this probably prevented the lion making another attack, which he might otherwise have done. I was now so far recovered that I was able to accompany David and the boys on short shooting excursions. Although I never took pleasure in slaughtering animals for mere sport, yet it was necessary to kill them for the sake of supplying ourselves with food. The hills above the house swarmed with rock-rabbits, with which we could at all times plentifully supply our table. I had gone out the following morning with the two boys, keeping, of course, a careful look-out, lest a lion might still be in the neighbourhood, when Leo cried out, pointing to a rock above us—

“See, see! what a curious lump of feathers is up there!”

“What you suppose to be a lump of feathers has, I suspect, a head and wings and claws attached to them,” said David. “If I mistake not, that is a bacha, a sort of falcon. Probably he is on the look-out for rock-rabbits, and he is hiding his head between his shoulders and crouching down that they may not discover him, but his sharp eyes are watching every movement of his prey. Before long, if we remain quiet, we shall see him pounce down on one of them should they venture out of their holes. The Dutch, I remember, call these rock-rabbits klipdachs. Poor creatures, they have good reason to be on their guard against the bacha. While he is there we are not likely to get a shot at one, for, cunning as he is, depend upon it some of the older ones have found out that he is in the neighbourhood.”

We watched for some time. Now and then we saw a klipdach pop out of its hole, but presently draw back again, having caught sight of its powerful foe. Now another would come out, but hide away in its cave very quickly. Still the bacha remained without moving. He knew that in time the poor silly little klipdachs would grow careless, and, anxious for a game at play, would get too far from their homes to skip back before he could be down upon them. Presently what David said took place. First one klipdach appeared, and then another began running about or nibbling the grass close to the rocks, but it was clear that they were watching the bacha all the time. Still he did not move, and they began to run further and further out into the open ground. Then two or three came out together, and began leaping and frisking about. Presently the hitherto immovable bacha leaped off the rock, spreading wide its huge wings, and like a flash of lightning from a thunder-cloud darted down on a klipdach on which it had fixed its keen eye. In vain the unfortunate klipdach attempted to leap away. The bacha had cunningly noted the road it came. In an instant it was in its claws, the poor little creature screaming with terror. So rapid was its flight, that even if we had wished it we could not have killed the bird. Off it went to the pinnacle of the rock from whence it had descended, and there began tearing its prey, which, happily, it soon must have put out of pain. Though we waited some minutes, not another klipdach appeared, and we had to go on some considerable way before we again caught sight of any of the little creatures.

“Well,” said David, “I do not know that it can matter much to the poor klipdachs whether they are shot by us or caught by the bacha, but at all events we will put them out of their suffering as soon as possible. Yet I do not think we ought to throw stones at him. He follows his nature, we follow ours.”

After shooting as many rabbits as we required (by-the-by, their scientific name, David told me, is Hyrax capensis), we made a circuit, and took our way home along the plain. Leo and Natty were a little in advance, when they came running back saying they had seen a big snake, but before they could shoot it it had got away. Whether venomous or not, of course they could not tell, but Leo declared that, from its appearance, he was nearly certain it was so. It was a somewhat sandy open spot, though a few bushes were near, among which we supposed the snake had hid itself. We of course advanced carefully, when presently in the distance we saw running over the ground a couple of curious-looking birds, with long legs and a remarkable crest, which Leo declared looked like a lawyer’s wig. We hid ourselves behind a bush, and the birds, not seeing us, came boldly on. On a nearer approach David pointed out some feathers which seemed to stick out behind the ear.

“They must be secretary birds,” he whispered; “known as the Serpentarius cristatus. They are determined enemies of serpents, and will attack the most venomous without fear. The secretary bird is so called on account of that crest at the back of his head, which looks something like a pen stuck behind the ear. One might suppose, on account of his long legs, that he should be classed among the cranes and storks, but his curved beak and internal organisation show that he belongs to the falcon tribe. His feet are incapable of grasping, and thus he runs along as we see over the sandy ground with a speed which enables him to overtake the most active reptiles.”

Presently we saw the birds dart off, and in another instant a large snake rose up before them. One stood still, while the other gave battle to the reptile. The serpent made every attempt to get back to its home, but the bird each time sprang before it with an active leap, and cut off its retreat. Whenever the serpent turned, the bird again placed itself in its front. At length the reptile, as if determined to try what courage would do, raised up its head, which swelled with rage, and displayed its menacing throat and inflamed eyes, hissing fiercely. No human being would have wished at that moment to have encountered it. For an instant the bird stopped, but it was not for want of courage; and spreading out its wings, it covered itself with one of them, while with the other, which was armed with horny protuberances like little clubs, it struck the serpent a blow which knocked it over. Again and again the serpent rose to receive the same treatment, till at length it lay quiet on the grass. The bird instantly flew upon it, and with one stroke of its powerful bill laid open its skull, and then immediately pressing it to the ground with its feet, held it fast. We were unable to see whether it swallowed the head or not, for its companion catching sight of us, they ran off with their prey to devour it at their leisure.

Curiously enough, we were to make the acquaintance of yet another bird before we got home; for, proceeding onwards, we caught sight of a zebra coming towards us. It advanced but slowly, now stopping, now moving on a little way. When it caught sight of us it turned round and attempted to go back. We then saw that a shaft was sticking in its side, from which the life-blood was flowing. It went on a little way, and then down it sank on the ground. We had no doubt that it was one of the creatures which had been speared at the hopo hunt when Stanley was present, and having escaped, had wandered thus far from its usual haunts. Scarcely had it disappeared, when we saw coming from a distance a large flight of crows, who with loud croakings descended to the ground. Presently a number of kites and buzzards approached from far and near, though an instant before not a bird was to be seen, and alighted on the same spot. We hurried on, wishing to get a sight of the spectacle; but before we got up, David pointed out, high above us in the air, a huge bird, which came wheeling round in a spiral line, seemingly out of the sky, towards the same spot.

“I know that fellow,” he said; “he is an oricus. He builds his nest far up among the mountains, in the fissures of rocks. He equals in size the famed condor of America, and if we could kill one, we should find that across the wings when expanded he measures ten feet. No bird is bolder in flight. At daybreak he left his aerie, and mounting in the sky far beyond the reach of human vision, watched with telescopic eye the creatures wandering on the earth’s surface. That poor zebra was seen by him probably long ago, and he knew well that he must shortly become his prey.”

While David was speaking, numerous other oricus descended like the first. Their common name is the sociable vulture—Vultur oricularis. By the time we got up to the spot, the poor zebra was half torn to pieces by their powerful claws. The oricus having satisfied their hunger, and carried off what they required for their young, the buzzards approached, followed in a short time by the crows, who quickly denuded the bones of flesh.

On reaching home, we found that a stranger had arrived from the nearest village to the north of us, which Stanley had once visited. He came with a sad story. A young child had strayed out from the village the previous morning, and had been carried off by a lion, and the father and another man, going in search of the animal, had not since returned; but evident signs had been discovered that they also had been killed. A panic had seized the people, and they had sent to ask our assistance to destroy their fierce assailant with our guns. They knew well, from the way the lions attacked them, that they were accustomed to human flesh, which, when once a lion has tasted, it is said, he will always attempt again to obtain. The poor people declared that there would be no safety for them unless the lions were killed, for night after night they would come, and no one would be able to go beyond their enclosures without the risk of being seized. The difficulty was to find the lions, for they were as cunning as ferocious, and the blacks declared that, by eating men’s flesh, they had obtained some of the sense of human beings.

“We will soon put that to the test,” said Stanley, jumping up. “Tell him, Igubo, if he will go with you and I, and show us where we can fall in with the lion, we will soon give an account of him.”

The stranger expressed his gratitude, and Igubo at once consented to accompany Stanley. I confess I felt somewhat unwilling that he should go, for he would thus completely put himself in the power of the strangers, of whose honesty we had had no proof. Igubo, however, fully believed them faithful, and would, I was sure, not desert him. I proposed that we should all go out in the day-time, and attempt to fall in with the lion man-eaters; but the stranger black said that would be useless, as they were sure to keep out of the way. He knew, however, he told us, of a spot which they were likely to visit in the early part of the night. It was a pool in a small stream which ran into the river, where numerous wild animals came to drink.

“But, dear Stanley, what is the use of you exposing yourself thus at night,” said Kate. “The lions will surely visit the village, and could you not shoot them when they come? At the spot the stranger speaks of, you will be surrounded by ferocious creatures, and though you may kill one or two of them, the others may set upon you, and your life may be sacrificed.”

Stanley laughed at the notion.

“In the first place, dear sister, the lions will not show themselves till some unfortunate person passes,” he said. “Thus I might have to wait day after day without killing one. Now, our friend here declares that every night they go down to the water, so that I am sure to meet them. Let us manage it, and do not be afraid. We shall return in safety, and probably have been of service to these poor people, by getting rid of their savage enemies.”

“Oh! let us accompany you,” cried Leo and Natty. “We will take care of Stanley,” said Leo; “so do not be afraid, Kate.”

“Thank you; but the man-eaters might carry one of you off,” answered Stanley; “so I must decline your company. I would rather have my two black-skinned friends as companions, for depend upon it they know more about the matter than any one else.”

“Massa,” said Timbo, “I ever go out shooting wid you. I no take care of you?”

“Yes, indeed you have,” answered Stanley; “but I want you now to stay at home and look after the camp. If there is any risk, it is better that one should run it than both.”

This answer satisfied Timbo, and Stanley having partaken of the supper which Kate and Bella insisted on preparing for him, set off with Igubo and the stranger. They carried the two best rifles, with a supply of powder and bullets. I found that Jack and Timbo had been busily employed in manufacturing a sort of infernal machine for the destruction of wild beasts. They had selected a musket with a large bore, and they proposed using this as a sort of spring-gun. Jack told me that while we had been away, a huge hyena had been seen in the neighbourhood, and as they are cunning animals and not easily overtaken, they thought it would be the best way of getting rid of so dangerous a neighbour. There was still sufficient light by the time they had finished preparing the gun to plant it in the neighbourhood. The boys and I accompanied them out. Timbo selected two trees, to which they lashed the gun in an almost horizontal position, the muzzle only pointing slightly upwards. A piece of wood about six inches long was fastened to the gun stock so as to move easily backwards and forwards. A piece of string connected the lower part of this with the trigger. To the upper end a long piece of cord was fastened, which was carried through one of the empty ram-rod tubes, and then tied to a lump of flesh, fastened round the muzzle of the gun. As can thus easily be understood, an animal seizing the flesh pulls the lever which draws the trigger, and at the same moment that it has the meat in its mouth, the probabilities are that its brains will be blown out. However, that it should not take the meat sideways, or come behind it and thus escape, Timbo formed a fence round the spot, leaving only a narrow opening just in front of the muzzle of the gun.

“Now,” said Timbo, “here are five bits of meat to tempt de hyena to come up to de trap. You go dere, you go dere, you go dere;” and we all, as he pointed out, went in different directions round the spot to some distance, and then dragged the tainted meat up towards the trap. “Now, we go home; and to-morrow morning we find hyena dead,” he said.

It was indeed time, as darkness was coming on, and it was just possible that the hyena might prefer one of us to the bait which we had so kindly left for him. Scarcely, however, had we reached home, when a loud report was heard.

“If dat hyena, I bery glad we did come away,” said Timbo; “but we not go now. Perhaps other hyenas dere. We kill anoder to-morrow night.”

It was quite dark when we got home. Our anxiety for the return of Stanley prevented any of us from going to bed. Three hours had passed away since nightfall, and still he did not make his appearance. I saw that Kate was becoming very anxious—indeed I could not help feeling so myself. At last I proposed to Timbo that we should go out and try and find him.

“Dat I will, Massa Andrew,” he answered. “Dough he not let me go wid him, he no say dat I not to come afterwards.”

With our rifles in our hands, and our long knives at our belts, we sallied forth.

“Thank you, Andrew,” said Kate, as I was going out. “I cannot help fearing that some accident may have happened to Stanley, and you will do your utmost to find him. I am sure you will.”

Timbo, who had several times accompanied his master to the village I have spoken of, was tolerably certain of the direction we should take. As we walked on, feeling our way in difficult places with the long poles we carried in our hands, our ears were assailed by the screeching of night-birds and the occasional roars and mutterings of wild beasts. A feeling of awe gradually crept over me, produced by the wild sounds and the peculiar scenery through which we were passing. On one side rose the hills, with dark rocks cropping out amidst the thick foliage; while, on the other, the river flowed by with a murmuring sound, reflecting the bright stars from the dark sky overhead. Far away to the right were sombre forests, with openings here and there, across which phantom forms were seen flitting to and fro, though so indistinct were they that we could not tell what animals they might be.

“I t’ink we get near where de captain come to shoot,” said Timbo in a low voice. “We go slow now, and take care dat no lion or ’noceros see us.”

We moved on, but could hear no sounds. Presently we saw, a little way below us, the stream of which we were in search.

“Can the captain have left it, and passed us on the way?” I whispered to Timbo. We were now close down to the stream. “What is that?” I asked, pointing to a huge mass on the opposite side. “Surely there lies the body of an elephant; and what are those creatures near us on the left?”

“Dey leopards,” whispered limbo. “De captain hab been here and killed dem, no doubt about dat.”

Just as he was speaking, emerging from a clump of low wood, there appeared directly before us a magnificent lion. The creature stopped and lifted up his head, moving his tail slowly to and fro, as if about to spring forward. Now he crept on and on. Presently he uttered a loud roar. I stepped back, instinctively bringing my rifle to my shoulder; but at that moment there was the flash of a gun, and a loud report came, apparently out of the ground close in front of us, and the huge lion sprang high up into the air. Scarcely, however, had the report ceased echoing in our ears, than from another clump, a little way on our right, I caught sight of an enormous rhinoceros, who seemed at that moment to have discovered that he had an enemy close to him. I felt sure it was Stanley who had fired. I shouted out to him. He answered me, “All right!” not apparently perceiving the approach of a new assailant. On dashed the huge rhinoceros, dipping his snout, as he descended into the water, beneath the surface, his eyes alone remaining above it. He was making directly for where I supposed Stanley lay hid. There was no time for him to reload, and I felt sure that the monster would gore him or trample over his body. I had never prided myself on my shooting, but I felt now or never was the time to take steady aim, or the life of my cousin might be sacrificed, while Timbo and I, indeed, were placed in no little danger. Aiming at the creature’s head, near its left eye, I fired. Instantly it rose up, uttering a loud bellow, but still came floundering on across the stream. “Up, Stanley, up!” I shouted out. “Timbo, do you fire, or the captain may be killed!” Timbo drew his trigger. Again the creature was hit, but still his progress was not stopped. Wading or swimming, it had just reached the bank, close to where Stanley lay. Again I shrieked out to him. He was attempting to reload without getting up, for which, indeed, he had not time. In another instant I expected to see the sharp horn of the rhinoceros plunged into his side, when it suddenly stopped and rolled over into the stream.

“A capital night’s sport!” exclaimed Stanley, springing up, his nerves in no way shaken by the fearful danger he had gone through—for I fully believe that had he missed the lion, which was on the point of springing on him, he must have been killed; and had we not been near to defend him from the rhinoceros, nothing could have saved him. Just as Stanley had finished loading his gun, a loud roar echoed through the woods, and we saw, coming out from behind the back of the elephant, another large lion. We could almost distinguish the grin on his features as he stood shaking his head, but yet not daring to approach. The ferocious beast, which we concluded from his size was one of the man-eaters, advanced boldly towards us. He seemed about to spring, and might have reached us across the stream with a bound, when Stanley, raising his rifle, fired, and the lion rolled over, shot through the heart. Igubo and the other black, uttering shouts of triumph, came running up. They had been concealed in a pit at a little distance, where it appeared that they also had shot a lion and a leopard.

“Why you go so far off?” said Timbo, when he saw them. “Is dis de way to look after de captain? Captain, you kill Miss Kate and Miss Bella wid fright if you go away like dis.” Timbo had evidently scarcely recovered his alarm at the risk his master had run.

“Well, well, Timbo,” answered Stanley; “you see we have done our duty and performed our promise. Three man-eaters lie dead, and I hope we may bag the remainder before many days are over.”

The blacks were very anxious to get us all to go to their village, that they might treat us with honour, and thank us for the services we had rendered, and for the ample supply of meat which our success had procured. Not being hard-pressed ourselves, we begged them to accept the whole of it, with the exception of a small quantity of the rhinoceros meat, which they undertook to bring up the following day. I urged Stanley, however, to come back, to relieve Kate of her anxiety; and telling our new friends that we would come and see them another day, we returned homewards. Having reloaded our guns, we took our way along the banks of the river. I was a little in advance, when I put my foot upon what I thought was the log of a tree, when what was my horror to see stretched out before me the long head and scaly body of a huge crocodile! I stopped; for though the creature could not instantly turn round, he might first knock me over with his powerful tail, and then have time, before I could recover myself, to wear ship, as Jack would have called it, and seize me in his fearful jaws. The thought that he might do this flashed across me, but I kept my presence of mind, and raising my rifle, levelled it at his ear. I fired, and without a struggle the creature turned on one side, and lay perfectly still. Timbo was instantly up with me.

“Me kill him well, Massa Andrew!” he exclaimed. “You no do dat, him gib ugly bite.”

As we had no wish to have any crocodiles’ meat (although the natives have no objection to eat it), we hurried homewards.

“There they come!—there they come!” we heard Leo and Natty shouting out; and they brought torches down the hill to give us welcome. My kind cousin had not gone to bed, but insisted upon sitting up to prepare a meal for us all, as she declared (which was indeed the case) that we should be very hungry. Not till then did Stanley give us an account of his adventures.

“The first thing we did,” he said, “was to dig some shallow pits, with boughs over them, in which we could conceal ourselves from the beasts which might approach the stream. We saw by the spoors that numerous animals were accustomed to come there. For some reason, however, none appeared at first, except hyenas and jackals, which came round staring and laughing at us in the most impudent manner. We threw stones at them, but this only tended to increase their mockery. At length I hurled a lump of wood at the head of one of them, which, hitting him on the nose, made him cry out, and the whole scampered off as fast as their logs could carry them. They were, I hoped, the forerunners of more noble brutes. I was not disappointed, for in a short time the ground shook with the heavy tramp of elephants hurrying down to the water. Nearer and nearer they came. At length I could set their dark phantom-like forms moving amid the trees. Next their shapes were distinguishable, and then an enormous elephant stood out in bold relief against the sky. Another and another followed, till the bank of the river was lined with them. They could easily have crossed the stream, had they been so disposed, when few people would have given much for my life or that of my companions. I felt a little nervous, I confess, but soon recovered my presence of mind. I raised my gun to take aim at their leader, who stood conspicuously forth from among his fellows. Of course, Kate, you will say I was very wrong to think of shooting him, but I could not help it. I allowed them to go on drinking, which they did, dipping their trunks into the water, and pouring it down their throats. I hesitated even now, however, about firing, lest I might warn the lions, whom I most particularly wished to destroy. Suddenly they all began to move off, and I was afraid that I should miss the chance of hitting one. I therefore gave a low whistle, which immediately attracted their attention. Once more turning round, they slightly raised their huge ears, and moved their trunks in eccentric circles through the air, as if they wished to ascertain the cause of the strange noise they had heard. I could resist no longer, but pulling my trigger, the loud thud of the bullet as it struck the animal’s head showed me I had hit him fairly. He turned round, and staggered back a few paces. I was afraid that I might not have mortally wounded him. I fired my other barrel behind his ear, and without a struggle he sank down dead, the other elephants going off into the forest at a great rate, uttering notes of terror. I was about to rush forward across the stream to examine him, when my companions urged me to remain quiet; and in a short time I saw a leopard stealing over the ground. Then another came. I shot one with one barrel, and one with the other; but still the object of our hunt, if so it could be called, was not accomplished. Some time passed away, when I saw a creature moving towards me; and soon, as it came out of the darkness of the forest, I distinguished a fine lion. I let it get quite close before I fired. I drew my trigger. The brute turned round and bounded off, and I thought that it had escaped me, though the loud and peculiar roar it uttered made me hope that it was mortally wounded. Still Igubo urged me to remain quiet, and after some time another lion came. It seemed as if he was about to spring across the stream towards me. It was the one I shot just as Andrew arrived. The rest he has told you.”

“Oh, brother, I wish you would not undertake such dangerous expeditions!” exclaimed Kate, when Stanley had finished.

“But surely, my dear sister, in this case I was fighting in a good cause,” said Stanley, laughing. “If we have rid the country of these man-eaters, we shall have rendered an essential service to our neighbours, and the blacks, I hope, will show their gratitude.”

We soon retired to rest, and slept more soundly than we had done for many nights, though we kept a guard as usual, as our fortification was not entirely completed. The next morning we set to work to finish it, and by noon had entirely surrounded it with an impenetrable hedge. It took us some time longer to fasten the prickly branches to the top of our fence. While we were at work, a party of blacks arrived from the village, bringing with them a large quantity of elephant and rhinoceros flesh. They came to thank our chief, they said, for the service he had done them, though they feared that there were still other lions in the neighbourhood. Stanley promised to do his best to look out for them, should any again appear.

The young koodoo was by this time completely tamed, and even the little zebra had lost all fear, and would come up when called by Kate or Bella to be fed, and allow itself to be stroked and petted by them; but when any blacks came near it, it would scamper off and kick out with its heels, or, if they pursued it, would turn round and try to bite them.

“I am sure it would let me ride it,” said Bella, “if we could make a saddle to fit its back.”

“I think I could do that for you, Miss Bella,” said Jack; “but it might be a hard job to put it on.”

“If you will make the saddle and bridle, I will try to put them on,” repeated Bella.

We had no lack of skins, which I should have said Timbo and Jack employed themselves in dressing. Out of these, the former, who was very ingenious, in a short time contrived to make a very respectable-looking side-saddle. We had some iron wire, with which he formed a bit, as also a stirrup. Bella was highly delighted when he produced it completed. She, meantime, had allowed no one but herself to feed the little creature, and every day when she did so she threw a piece of hide over its back. In a little time she placed a still larger hide on the animal, till it was thoroughly accustomed to the weight, and seemed in no way to mind it. To introduce the bit into its mouth was a more difficult task. However, it allowed her one day to slip it in, after it had been eating; and she kept it there for some time, leading it by the bridle about the yard.

“Now bring me the saddle, Jack,” she cried out. “I am sure it will let me put it on its back.”

Jack brought it, and the zebra stood perfectly still while he tightened the girths. Next to Kate and Bella, Jack was evidently the zebra’s favourite, and it never seemed to object to his playing with it.

“Now lift me up, Jack,” said Bella; “and I am sure it will let you lead it about.”

In a short time the little creature seemed perfectly contented with its new employment, and Bella was able to ride it round and round the yard, without its showing any wish to throw her off. The koodoo ran by her side, every now and then looking round into the zebra’s face, as much as to ask how he liked it. She, however, did not try it too far; and after riding about for half an hour or so, she jumped off its back, and relieved it of its saddle, patting its head and talking to it all the time. She then, leading it back to its pen, took off its bridle and gave it some more food. The following day she tried it in the same way; and though at first it seemed rather disinclined to allow the bit to be put into its mouth, after she had coaxed it, and talked to it for some time, it allowed her to put it in; and Jack again bringing out the saddle, it went through the duty of the previous day.

“I think now,” said Bella, “if we have to make a journey, that I shall have a steed ready to carry me. I wish, Kate, we could find an animal for you.”

“No fear about dat, Miss Bella,” said Timbo. “If we no get horses we get oxen, and dey do better dan any other animal in dis country.”

Timbo had been making inquiries, it appeared, about the natives further to the south, and had been told that at some distance there were herds of oxen, which the people were accustomed to ride. This gave us hopes that we might be able to procure some, and that we might proceed on our journey without waiting for Senhor Silva and Chickango. As yet no news had been received from them, though we were now in daily expectation of the arrival of a messenger whom they had promised if possible to send back to us, with an account of their progress. Our days were beginning to grow somewhat monotonous, from the fact that we had no great difficulty in supplying ourselves with food, and were unwilling to go out and kill creatures merely for the sake of amusement. Stanley made a second excursion to assist our friends in the northern village, and succeeded in killing two more lions, which the people declared were man-eaters.

Chapter Fifteen.

Adventures on the Lake.

Leo and Natty had been frequently begging me to accompany them to visit our friends to the south.

We agreed that we should greatly shorten the land journey by proceeding along the lake, and landing at a spot on its borders nearest the village, which we thought we could then reach in a few hours’ march. Stanley had no objection to our going, provided we did not remain away more than three or four days. Mango was to accompany us as interpreter. From the experience we had had of the natives, we hoped that the garrison, though thus decreased, was still sufficient for the protection of our fortress, especially as the lions and leopards had for some time kept at a distance, finding out, probably, that we possessed ample means for their destruction. It is extraordinary what instinct wild animals exhibit, and how soon they desert a neighbourhood where they are frequently attacked. It is said that even hippopotami and crocodiles become more wary after being hunted; and though in the wilder districts they come out fearlessly to feed or to bask on the sandbanks, when hunters come to the neighbourhood they learn to conceal themselves in their watery retreats, and will only show their nostrils and eyes above the surface, keeping always in the most secluded parts.

The boys were greatly pleased at being allowed to take the proposed expedition. They made wallets to carry their food at their backs, and the articles they proposed to present to the natives, or to exchange for meat and other provisions should we not be able to supply ourselves. The village we were to visit, we learned from Igubo, was called Kabomba, and he seemed to consider it a very important place. To be sure, as Leo observed, he had never been in London, or even at Cape Town, so it was not surprising that he should look upon it with respect.

Our preparations were soon completed. Igubo gave his son charge to behave well, and to bring no discredit upon his white friends. Kate urged us all to take care of ourselves, and not to run into unnecessary danger. The whole party accompanied us down to the canoe. We had chosen the Gazelle, as the best of the two. As the wind was fair, we hoisted our sail and steered merrily down the river towards the lake. We had no difficulty, as we passed along, in supplying ourselves with food. Wild ducks of all sorts abounded. Among them were numbers of the Egyptian goose. We saw several of them ahead, and made chase. Being heavy of wing, we found they could not rise out of the water, and we caught four or five with our hands as we passed by. A little further on we neared a bank on which a large flock of ducks were seated. Leo and I fired at the same time, and on landing we picked up a dozen ducks and three geese which we had knocked over. Among them was a large black goose, which we saw in great numbers walking slowly about and picking up their food. The specimen we killed had a small black spur on its shoulder—as has the armed plover—and as strong as that on the heel of a cock; but the birds, it is said, never use them except in defence of their young. They are said always to choose ant-hills for their nests. The ants cannot hurt the eggs, and the material of which the hills are composed assists probably in hatching the eggs, as the sand does those of the ostrich.

I had hitherto held very little conversation with Mango. He had, however, picked up enough English to make himself understood, and during this trip I was able to ascertain some of his peculiar notions.

We kept for some time along the north shore of the lake. We were nearing a point when we saw a beautiful water-antelope, known under the name of mochose. Before I could stop him, Leo had lifted his rifle and fired. The poor animal was hit, and, as is always the case, instead of flying along the shore, leaped into the water and began to swim across the lake. We immediately made chase, for though we had ducks enough for food, venison was not to be despised. I saw Mango waving his hands and muttering in a peculiar manner. The mochose swam well, but we soon gained upon it; and I was anxious to put it out of its sufferings, for a red mark which appeared in its wake showed that it must have been badly wounded. Just as we neared it, a long snout projected above the water. It was that of a crocodile. The next instant the poor mochose and the hideous monster sank together. Mango uttered an expression of disappointment; and when I questioned him, he said that he had been praying to his fetish, who was himself a crocodile, that we might obtain the venison, but that the fetish would not hear him.

“That is a curious sort of religion,” observed Leo; “for to my certain knowledge he and his father and brother supped off the crocodile Igubo killed the other day, and still he worships the beast.”

I have not before mentioned it, but we had tasted the flesh Leo spoke of. It had a strong musky odour, which did not tempt us to try it again; though I do not know what we should have done had we been pressed by hunger. In a short time we came to a wide bay, across which we stood. The wind was fresh, and we flew rapidly over the water. The pure air raised our spirits, and we anticipated an interesting visit to our Kabomba friends. Mango pointed to a spot some way ahead, where he thought we might land; but at the same time said that if we continued further, we might possibly have a still shorter land journey to the village.

“It would be a pity to leave the canoe, as long as we can sail along so pleasantly,” said Leo. “Do, Andrew, let us follow his suggestion.”

As I saw no objection to it, we stood on down the lake. The breeze was increasing. I took two reefs in our sail, but still it was as much as the canoe could bear. Suddenly a strong blast came sweeping over the lake. I shouted to Natty, who was at the halliards. Almost before the words were out of my mouth, he had let them go. It was fortunate that he did so, or the canoe must inevitably have been upset. As it was, she heeled over so much that we took in a quantity of water. We set to work to bail it out; but the wind from that moment blew stronger and stronger, and in a few minutes the whole lake, which had hitherto been so calm, was covered with foaming seas. They increased every instant, and I saw that it would be dangerous to expose our light canoe broadside to them. Even as it was, they continued breaking over the sides, and it required active bailing to free her from water. Our only course, therefore, to escape being swamped, was to keep her directly before the gale. This carried us further and further down the lake, and drove us also off from the north shore. I told Natty and Leo to get out the paddles, while we set Mango to bail. We thus ran before the seas, and kept the canoe tolerably free from water. Night was approaching, and still there was no cessation of the gale. We could only see the land dimly on our right side, while we flew on, surrounded by the hissing and foaming waters. Much depended, I knew, on my steering well. The slightest carelessness might have allowed the canoe to broach to, when she must inevitably have been upset. Even had we clung to her, we should have lost our provisions, and we might have been picked up by some crocodile exploring the deeper water in search of prey; for I could not tell whether the monsters did not swim occasionally thus far from land. The boys plied their paddles energetically, as if they fancied our safety depended upon their exertions. Seeing this, I told them not to exhaust their strength, as it was only necessary to keep the paddles going sufficiently to assist me in steering the canoe. I tried to pierce the gloom ahead, but nothing could be seen but the troubled waters. It was different to any scene we had yet witnessed, for hitherto the lake had been calm as glass, unless when occasionally a ripple played over its surface.

“I say, Andrew, I wonder whether we are ever coming to an end of this?” exclaimed Leo. “If we go on at this rate, we shall be hundreds of miles away from Kate and the rest, and they will not know what has become of us.”

“Not quite so far as that, I fancy,” said Natty. “We must pray to be preserved, and hope for the best. I do not think we can do anything but that just now.”

“Right, Natty,” I said. “Do our best, and hope for the best. That is a right principle, and people who act thus are seldom led far wrong. Storms, in these latitudes, though they are very violent, do not last for any length of time; and I hope we may soon fall in with some island, under which we may take shelter.”

“Suppose, though, we run against it. What shall we do then?” asked Leo.

“We must jump out and haul the boat up,” answered Natty. “The shore is not dangerous like that of the sea-coast, and we shall have no great difficulty in saving ourselves, even if we are driven on it.”

“We need not talk of such a contingency,” I remarked. “I hope we may keep clear of all dangers till the gale drops, or till daylight returns.”

Though I said this, I could not help feeling very anxious, particularly at the thought of being driven so far from home, for I knew that Kate would become alarmed should we not return at the time we proposed. Still we kept on; but often as I bent my head forward, trying to make out any object ahead, nothing could I see but the curling waves as before. I had no idea that the lake was so long, and expected every minute to find that we were approaching the end of it. Still on and on we went. Hour after hour passed by, and I calculated that morning must be approaching. The gale still increased, and as the light canoe flew over the foaming seas I dreaded every instant that they would break on board. She behaved beautifully, however, and though occasionally the top of a wave tumbled over her, we took in no great amount of water. At length, as I cast my eye towards the east, a faint light appeared in the sky. I hailed it as the harbinger of morning. At the same time the wind began to fall, and in a few minutes had evidently greatly decreased. I began to hope that our dangers were coming to an end, and that we should only have the trouble of paddling back again without visiting our Kabomba friends.

“I see the shore!” cried Leo, “on my right hand.”

“And I see it on the left!” exclaimed Natty.

Just then Mango, who had been sitting quiet at the bottom of the canoe, lifted up his head as if listening, and then pointed to the south evidently in a state of alarm. He uttered a few words, but what he meant to say I could not make out. There was still so much sea that I was afraid of hauling the boat up: to attempt to reach the north shore. I therefore stood on as before, and in a short time found that we were entering either a narrow part of the lake or the commencement of a river flowing out of it, and I hoped every instant to reach some point where we could safely land. We had stood on some little way further, when I began to suspect, by the rapid way we passed the land, that we must have a strong current with us as well as the wind. Scarcely had I made this discovery when the loud roar of waters reached my ears. It was the deep, solemn sound which proceeds from a cataract. Now for the first time the truth broke on me. We were in a rapid current, which was hastily hurrying us on towards a waterfall. Not a moment was to be lost. I told the boys to lower the sail and to endeavour to get the canoe’s head round so as to pull in for the shore; for as to making any way against the current and the wind combined, that I knew was impossible. They did their utmost, I helping them with my steering paddle, and Mango working away with a spare one; but still so heavy were the waves that they threatened every instant to capsize us, and I saw that we were being carried down almost as rapidly as before. In vain we paddled. We appeared to make no way. “Hope for the best, hope for the best!” cried Natty, exerting himself to the utmost. The perilous position in which we were placed pressed heavily on my mind. The loud roar of the cataract sounded louder and louder, and as daylight increased I made out in the distance a cloud of spray rising in the air. Down it there appeared every probability we should be carried, and what hope was there then of our escaping with life? I looked anxiously round on every side, and at length the increasing light revealed a small island a little way further down the stream. I trusted that by our exertions we might reach it. We continued straining every nerve. Rapidly the canoe was borne down sideways towards it. “A few strokes more and we shall be there,” I cried out. “Work away, boys, work away.” In spite of our exertions down glided the canoe, and the end of the island was passed. Still, we might reach some part of the side of the island. Had I been alone I might almost have leaped on shore. The moment was a fearfully anxious one. I could distinguish the southern end of the island. If we failed to reach that we must be lost. Trees overhung the banks. I gave a few more desperate strokes, and drove the canoe forward till her bows just touched the shore. “Leap out!” I cried. The canoe swung round. Natty seized the branch of a tree which hung down close to him, and swung himself up. I thought Leo and Mango had done the same, for I saw Leo clinging to a branch of a tree, and the black springing with the painter in his hand towards the shore. I therefore, seizing my gun and ammunition, leaped to the bank. What was my horror the next instant to see Leo fall back into the boat, the branch he had caught hold of breaking, and the black boy still holding on to the painter floating after the canoe. Leo seemed scarcely conscious of his own danger, but rushing to Mango, assisted to drag him in. My impulse was to spring into the water and try to regain the canoe, but just then Natty’s voice reached me, crying, “Oh, help me, Andrew! help me!” and I saw that, though clinging to a branch, he could not manage, laden as he was, to climb along it so as to gain the shore in safety. I hurried to assist him, my heart sinking at the thought of what would become of Leo and Mango. I clambered along the tree, and at length got hold of Natty, but it required some caution to prevent us both falling off into the water. I got him, however, safe on shore, and then we hurried together to the south point, anxiously looking for the canoe. Leo and his companion had got out their paddles, and were working away in what appeared an utterly vain attempt to reach the north bank before the canoe would be hurried down the cataract. Natty wrung his hands in despair.

“Oh, how could it have happened?” he exclaimed, “I would have done anything rather than let Leo go. What is to be done? what is to be done?”

I had no consolation to offer him. Still the increasing light showed me that there were other islands intervening between the falls and the one we were on. It was barely possible, however, that the canoe would drift against one of them. We stood watching them with the deepest anxiety as the canoe was carried further and further down the current. Already she appeared to be in the rapids, from her quicker movement; and gliding faster and faster away, she soon was almost out of sight. It must be understood that there was a considerable distance between us and the cloud of vapour which I supposed to mark the situation of the fall. At length the canoe was hid from us altogether by a tree-covered island; but whether Leo and his companion had managed to reach it or not we were left in fearful doubt. It was some time before I could rouse myself. Poor Natty sat down on the ground with his head resting on his hands, completely overcome.

“But perhaps, after all, they may not have been lost!” he exclaimed, starting up, “and they may manage to tow the canoe along the bank of the river and come back to us. What do you think?”

“I dare not offer an opinion,” I answered. “It is possible, just possible, and we must hope for the best.”

Still we waited, looking in the direction we had last seen the two boys, anxiously hoping that they might reappear; but in vain. At length I began to feel somewhat faint, and Natty at last exclaimed, “Oh, I am so hungry!” It recalled us to the necessity of trying to find something on which we could support life. The island was so small, that had any birds been on it they would have flown away when we landed. I had, fortunately, a tinder-box in my pocket, so that we might light a fire if we could find anything to cook. At length Natty discovered a small fruit like a plum, growing on a tree covered with dark green leaves. He called me to it, and on examining it it struck me that it must be the moyela, which David had found near the banks of the river only a day or two before. This would at all events assist to satisfy the pangs of hunger, though it might not do to support us. I helped Natty up the tree, and he threw down to me as many as we thought we should require. We then sat down on the ground and discussed them, but the recollection of Leo made us too sad to talk.

“I am very thirsty,” said Natty, “and must get a draught of water.”

He went to the shore, and was stooping down to fill his hand full, when at that instant I saw a ripple in the water rapidly approaching. I had just time to spring up and pull him violently back, when a huge snout projected above the surface. The monster, startled by the fearful shriek Natty set up, and the loud cries I uttered, did not venture to approach, and slunk back again beneath the surface. I confess I was completely unnerved, and stood trembling all over, while Natty would have sunk to the ground had I not supported him. It was some minutes before I recovered.

“I must not again run the risk of being caught like that. I ought to have remembered the crocodiles,” he said at last. “But I say, Andrew, don’t you think it very likely that the creature may have its nest somewhere about the island? I will have a hunt.”

Forthwith we began poking about in all directions with pieces of bamboo—a small grove of which grew on the island.

“Here is a hole,” cried Natty at length, “and full of eggs, too. We will pay the crocodile off now for the fright he gave us.”

I confess at first I could scarcely bring myself to think of eating crocodile’s eggs. Natty had no such scruple. We filled our hats, and brought them to the beach, where, clearing away the grass to prevent an accident, we soon had a fire burning. As we had no pot to boil our eggs, we put them into the fire to roast, stirring them round and round with a stick. In spite of my repugnance, so excessive was my hunger that as soon as we thought the eggs were done, and Natty had pulled them out, I cracked one. The yolk alone had set, but that looked tolerably tempting; and on putting it to my mouth I could scarcely distinguish it, except by a peculiar flavour, from the yolk of a bird’s egg. A couple, however, satisfied me.

“They will last the longer for not being too nice,” observed Natty; “and we do not know how long we may have to stay here.”

“We must think of means of getting away,” I said; “for it is not likely that any canoes will pass by, and it is very certain that we must not attempt to swim on shore, though, were it only for the distance, I think I could do it, and carry you on my back.”

“No, no, indeed!” exclaimed Natty. “We have had experience already of what would be our fate if we ventured into the water. But do you not think that the captain will come to look for us in the Giraffe when we do not return? He will never give us up without a search.”

“But you forget,” I said, “our friends do not expect us back for two or three days, so that they will not think of setting out till after that time, when they find we do not return.”

“And what shall we do in the meantime?”

Although an idea had occurred to me by which we could reach the shore, yet it was so perilous that I thought as long as we could find food on the island it might be prudent to stay there without attempting it. The day passed slowly away, and as evening approached I bethought me that we should wish to sleep.

“But what if a crocodile comes and picks us off?” said Natty. “That will not be pleasant.”

“Too true,” I said. “Then we must try and form a house in the trees.”

There were not many on the island. We selected one with wide-spreading branches, into which we could without difficulty climb.

“But when we are there,” said Natty, “how are we to sleep? As we cannot cling on like birds or monkeys, we should tumble off, for certain. I have it, though. Let us build a platform of bamboo; you have your hatchet, and we can soon form one large enough to hold us both.”

The idea I thought excellent, and immediately set to work to cut down a good supply of bamboos. As I cut them I handed them up to Natty, who fastened the ends with flexible creepers, of which there was an abundance around us. Before it was dark we had formed a flooring about six feet long and as many broad. We now climbed up, and sat ourselves down to contemplate our performance.

“Suppose no canoe passes, how shall we ever be able to get from this,” said Natty. “We are not going to live here for ever, I hope.”

“I have thought of forming a reed raft, on which we can ferry ourselves across the narrowest part of the stream towards the north shore.”

“But surely the current will carry us down?” he observed justly.

“I have thought of that; we must wait till a strong wind blows up the river, and then I have hopes that it will keep back the waters of the lake and probably greatly lessen the current. If so, and we can manufacture a mat sail, I think we shall be able to reach the nearest bank. It is dangerous, I grant, but I see no other way.”

“Nor do I, indeed,” he said; “but, by-the-by, I left our eggs near the river, and probably the mother crocodile will come to look for them and carry them off.”

Without waiting for my reply he climbed down the tree, and was soon back again with our provisions. “I think I saw a snout just coming out of the water,” he remarked; “and a minute later the creature would have got hold of them, I fancy. I did not stop to look a second time, however, for I was afraid that it would have caught me had I delayed.”

“I am very glad you have brought the eggs, and still more that you escaped the monster. It is evident that we must be careful not to stand carelessly by the side of the bank, or go into the water,” I answered. We were silent for some time.

“I think we should have prayers,” I heard Natty observe. “Will you say them, Andrew?”

“Gladly,” I replied; and to the best of my power I offered up a prayer for protection before we lay down to sleep. I was soon in the land of dreams, for I was thoroughly tired with the exertion I had gone through during the previous day. I was awaked by feeling Natty touch my arm.

“Look down there, Andrew,” he whispered. “See! it is just as well we are safe up in the tree!”

As I cast my eyes down on the ground below us, I saw three huge crocodiles crawling slowly about; and though they generally take their food in the water, I had no doubt that they would not have objected to seize us for their suppers had they found us unprepared for resistance. It was rather difficult to go to sleep again with the knowledge that such creatures were in our vicinity. However, after watching them for a time, I felt my eyes closing, and shortly forgot all about them and everything else present. When I awoke the sun was shining through the branches of the trees. The crocodiles had disappeared, the wind was light, the sky blue, and the smooth water shone in the beams of the rising luminary of day. Voices reached my ears. A faint hope rose in my heart that they might proceed from Leo and Mango. I quickly descended the tree, and made my way to the edge of the island on the side whence they appeared to come. There I saw, at some distance, a canoe with four blacks in her, engaged in combat with a hippopotamus. One of them, standing up, was about to plunge his spear into the animal’s neck. Several more animals were standing on the nearest reed-covered bank, while the heads of others protruded from among the reeds in the distance. Here was a means of escape, if we could make the blacks hear, and they were inclined to assist us. I called to Natty, who, descending the tree, was soon by my side. We shouted with might and main, but the blacks were so eagerly engaged in attacking the hippopotamus that they did not hear us. The monster, as he received the wound in his neck, turned round and attempted to seize the canoe; but the blacks, plying the paddles quickly, got out of his way, holding him, however, by a rope attached to the spear. Spear after spear was darted into his neck; and in a short time the blacks, taking him in tow, dragged him on shore, where, in spite of his struggles, they hauled him up, and several other people hurrying down to the bank, soon despatched him with their clubs. No sooner had they done so, than they set up loud shouts, and began dancing away in frantic joy at their success. I thought this was a favourable opportunity for again trying to attract their attention. We shouted and shouted, but still they did not hear us.

“I think, Andrew, you must fire your gun. They will hear that, at all events,” said Natty.

I was about to do as he suggested; but then the question arose in my mind, whether we should be better off with the savages than we were by ourselves. Still, should we lose this opportunity of getting to the mainland, another might not occur. At length I fired. The effect was curious. The blacks ceased dancing, and looked about them with glances of astonishment. Presently five of them leaped into the canoe, and having pulled out from the shore, so as to allow the current to carry them directly towards it, began cautiously paddling down to the island. They, of course, knew its strength, and the necessity for care. As they approached, Natty and I each took a branch in our hands and waved it, hoping that they would understand it as a signal of friendship. As they drew near they stopped rowing, and gazed at us with looks of curiosity. I again waved to them, and showing them my gun, I placed it by my side, that they might understand I had no intention of using it. Except the usual small waist-cloth, the strangers had no clothing, though the man who sat in the stern guiding the canoe had a few ornaments about his head and on his neck, which showed that he was a chief. They began jabbering away to us, but of course we could not understand a word they said. I replied to them, therefore, by signs that we wished to be ferried over to the opposite shore. Natty fortunately recollected just then that he had a few beads, a clasp-knife, and one or two articles which he had put into his wallet just as we were coming away. He showed these to signify that we would pay them for the service they might render us. They seemed to understand our signs, and beckoned to us to step into the canoe, carefully turning her round, so that they might instantly paddle off again up the stream. We stepping in, they shoved off, exerting themselves to the utmost to stem the current. We made, however, but little way. As their backs were turned towards us, I could only judge of their disposition by watching the countenance of their chief. It was not particularly prepossessing, and the exertions he was making added not a little to its natural ugliness. He seemed to be regarding us with looks of intense curiosity, as if he had never before seen white people. After paddling along for a considerable time with the greatest exertion, they suddenly turned the canoe round and paddled across the current towards the shore. At length we got into a counter eddy, and now without difficulty they made way; the people who had been surrounding the hippopotamus running down along the bank to look at us. We soon reached a place where we could land, but for some minutes we were kept in the boat, while the tribe collected on the high banks above us, grinning down and gazing at us much as we should at a wild beast in its den in the Zoological Gardens. They were, I think, the ugliest savages we had yet met with.

“Well, I do declare I think poor Chico was a beauty to them,” exclaimed Natty, as he looked up at them squatting in all sorts of attitudes on the bank. The women, (I must not call them the fair sex), were even less attractive than their lords and masters. Two or three of them had huge necklaces hanging down over their breasts and rings round their arms, which in no way added to their beauty. Some of them carried children slung to their backs by straps of buffalo hides, and the little creatures, as they looked down upon us, grinned from ear to ear, though, when their mothers approached nearer than they liked, they set up the most terrific cries, such as I should have thought no human beings could have uttered. At last the canoe-men allowed us to land, when the female portion of the spectators hurriedly retreated, as if we were some wild creatures likely to do them harm. My first object was to inquire whether they could give us any information about Leo and Mango; but they only shook their heads, and we could not tell what that intended to signify. I explained to them, as well as I could, that we had come in a canoe, which, with our companions in it, had been drifted down towards the cataract. Each time they only replied as before, with an ominous shake of the head. Their countenances brightened a little as I distributed among them the articles which Natty had brought, giving the chief a knife and a double allowance of beads. Some who had been in the background, and had not received any, now pressed forward, and looked very indignant when we showed them that we had no more to give. I now made signs to them that we wished to go down the banks to try and ascertain what had become of the canoe; but they put themselves before us, and intimated that they did not wish us to move to a distance. “But we must go, and we will go!” cried Natty. “We must find out what has become of Leo, and the whole tribe together shall not stop me!” It struck me, however, that probably they wished to cut up the hippopotamus and distribute it among the people; and that perhaps after this operation they might be willing to accompany us. Without hesitation, therefore, we walked along the bank towards the spot where the creature had been drawn ashore. I concluded that I was right, by seeing the chief and several men instantly begin to attack the monster. In a short time they had it skinned and cut up, each one taking a portion. The chief took none himself, but several men, whom I supposed to be slaves, were laden with larger portions than any of the rest, which, I have no doubt, were his share. This done, I again signified our wish to go down the banks to look for the canoe; and at length, greatly to my satisfaction, the chief and six of his companions began to move in that direction. Natty and I hurried on as fast as we could walk, though, indeed, had we not restrained our eagerness, we should soon have got ahead of our companions. The distance to the falls was far greater than I had supposed, for after we had gone some way we could still see the cloud of mist rising above them. When we got abreast of the islands to the south of the one we had landed on, we examined them narrowly; but no sign of the canoe could we discover. It was difficult, however, at all times to see across the river, on account of the thick wood which in many places fringed the banks and overhung the water. “Oh, they cannot be lost! they cannot be lost!” Natty exclaimed every now and then. I could only reply, I hoped not; and still, as I saw the rapid current rushing by, I dreaded to find my worst apprehensions fulfilled.

At length we got near the edge of the cataract. A dark ledge of rocks ran, it appeared, across the stream, some rising high above the water, which flowed with terrific force between them. There was, however, from the western shore on which we stood a point which ran out for some distance, and within this the water circled round, forming a back eddy. My only hope was, from not having seen the canoe on any of the islands, that she might have drifted into this eddy. We searched the shore on every side, but nowhere was she to be seen. That she could possibly have floated down the cataract without turning over, I feared was impossible. We, however, continued our way, not without difficulty, till we reached the lower level, and looking back, saw the stream rushing over its rocky bed, making a fall and leaping madly downwards to a depth of fifty or sixty feet, where it bubbled and foamed in a vast caldron, which sent up unceasing clouds of spray high into the air. Then after a time it began to flow more calmly, till it went gliding on as if fatigued by its hurried course. We now more narrowly examined the banks, not with any hope of finding our companions, but in the possibility that the canoe might have been drifted on shore, and that we might thus ascertain to a certainty their fate.

We went on till we readied another stream which ran into the main river. Here our companions placed themselves before us, and signified that we must go no further. I could only conjecture that they looked upon it as the border of their territory, and were afraid that should we pass it we should attempt to make our escape. I saw them looking out eagerly over the country beyond the stream, as if to ascertain whether any enemies were in the neighbourhood. They then signed to us that we must accompany them back again. As we returned we still continued examining the banks, in case we might have passed any spot where the canoe could be drawn up. We had not gone far when Natty, who had run through a narrow pathway leading down to the water, exclaimed, “Here, here! Andrew. I think I see the canoe a little way up the bank! Come and look!” I hastened to him. There, under some bushes at the end of a little point some few hundred yards from us, I saw an object which looked very like a canoe. Still, it might be that of some of the natives. We marked it well, and then hastened up again along the bank, examining the bushes that we might discover if there was any path through them. We searched about, however, for some time before we could find a pathway. At length one appeared, and Natty darting down it, made his way towards the water as last as he could run. It was like the former one, formed, I concluded, by elephants or rhinoceroses to reach their evening drinking-place. There was the canoe. The paddles, however, and everything in her, had been taken way. My heart beat with satisfaction and gratitude. Leo and Mango had escaped destruction in the cataract; but what, then, had become of them? We could discover no trace or sign, nothing whatever to give us any clue to their fate.

Chapter Sixteen.

Among Savages.

“What can have become of them?” exclaimed Natty for the twentieth time as we stood examining the canoe. “But here come the blacks. Perhaps they will find out.”

The chief and several of his followers assembled round the canoe, and began to talk eagerly to each other. They arrived at length at some conclusion, but what it was we could not divine. Then they examined the ground round, and seemed to discover certain marks, as one called the other to look at them. Then away they ran up the path, and began beating about in the surrounding wood. They came back shaking their heads, and when we by signs asked them what had happened, they pointed to the south.

“Depend upon it, Andrew,” exclaimed Natty, “Leo and Mango have gone in that direction. Let us set off after them.”

“I will try and make the blacks understand that we intend to do so,” I answered.

I succeeded in explaining my wishes; but the blacks only shook their woolly pates, and made signs that if we did, we should be knocked on the head, or that daggers would be stuck into us.

“Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” cried Natty, “can that have been the fate of Leo and Mango?”

“I hope not,” I said. “If anybody has carried them off, they would not have done so for the sake of killing them. What I suspect is, that the neighbouring tribe is at war with our present friends, and that they happened to be making a raid into the country, and falling in with Leo and Mango, carried them off captives. It was evident from the signs these people made to us that they did not wish us to cross the stream, which they probably considered the boundary line between their territory and that of the tribe with which they are at war. I may be mistaken, but we must try and return as soon as possible, and let Timbo and Igubo know what has occurred. If we can ascertain from them to what place Leo and Mango have been carried, we must lose no time in endeavouring to release them.”

“Oh yes,” said Natty, “I am nearly sure they must have been carried away prisoners, or they would have come up the river and endeavoured to release us, as I said they would do.”

When, however, I explained to the chief that we wished to return to the part of the country from whence we had come, I found that he had no intention of letting us go. Still I hoped, of course, that we might find the means of escaping. At present, indeed, as we had no food, we were not unwilling to accompany the chief to his village, to which by signs he invited us. As we walked along I saw him eyeing my gun. I showed it him, holding it, however, pretty tightly, lest he should think fit to appropriate it. I saw by the way he looked at the weapon, that he was unacquainted with its use. First he examined the lock, and then put the muzzle to his eye and looked down the barrel. I hoped that before long, by means of my gun, I might be able to gain the respect of the people. I determined, therefore, not to fire until a favourable opportunity should occur. I in the meantime took great care that no one should wrest the weapon out of my hands. The people as we went along gathered round us, some coming up and touching our clothes, others putting their hands on our faces, evidently unable to understand the light colour of our skins. When the people began to press too closely round, the chief ordered them angrily to keep at a distance; and some still persevering, he swung his spear round and round, hitting them, without much ceremony, either on their shins or heads, when they quickly retreated to a more respectful distance.

I was very glad when at length the village appeared in sight. It was situated on the borders of a small gulf, I will call it, or the mouth of a stream near the lake, surrounded by a belt of elegant fan-palms and a number of gigantic wild fruit trees. Beyond it the lake was seen extending far as the eye could reach, though in some places the water was concealed from sight by vast masses of reeds and rushes of every shade and hue, several beautiful little islands being dotted over it, adorned with the richest vegetation, its many beauties heightened by the brilliant rays of a tropical sun, somewhat softened by the silvery mist which rose from the lake. The village was very similar in character to that which Stanley had visited,—so I concluded from his description. A plentiful repast was placed before us by the chief’s wife and her attendants soon after we arrived. The principal dish consisted of hippopotamus flesh, but there were plantains and cassava porridge, with an abundance of wild fruits, the best of which was the moshoma, both fresh and dried. We had seen the tree growing outside the village. It grows to a great height. The trunk was beautifully straight, and the branches did not begin to spread out till very nearly at the summit. The fruit can thus only be gathered when it falls to the ground. It is then collected and exposed to the sun for some time. After it has been dried it is pounded in a mortar, when it is fit for use. In that state it will keep for some time. It is generally mixed with water, and made into a sort of jelly, which tastes and looks not unlike honey. It is especially useful for giving a flavour to the otherwise tasteless cassava porridge.

The chief seemed very well disposed towards us, and now, as the day was drawing to a close, he pointed to some mats in a corner of his hut, and signified that we might sleep there. Having been in exercise all the day, in spite of our anxiety we slept very soundly. The village was astir at an early hour. Though the appearance of the people was not attractive, they were more civilised than I had expected, and in the neighbourhood of the village we saw a wide extent of fairly cultivated ground. A bowl of cassava porridge, sweetened with moshoma, was placed before us for our morning meal, and Natty and I did ample justice to it. We now thought that we might let the chief know we were in a hurry to go away, but he shook his head, saying that that could not be. What his object was in keeping us we were unable to comprehend. It was very evident that he had made up his mind we should stay with him, for some time at least. The more we urged him to allow us to take our departure, the more determined he seemed to keep us. At last I thought it wise to give up the point for the present. We were allowed, however, to walk about, but were always accompanied by either the chief himself, or four or five of his attendants armed with spears, or bows and arrows. Some of the latter were blunt-headed, and others were barbed, and, I suspected, poisoned. We found a party of them setting out for the forest at a short distance, and wishing to see what they were about, we accompanied them. We found them engaged in making what we afterwards discovered to be bee-hives. They first took off the bark of some small trees, fifteen or eighteen inches in diameter and about five feet in width. They managed this by making two incisions right round, the trunk five feet apart. A longitudinal slit from one to the other enabled them to detach the bark from the trunk. The bark immediately assumed the shape it had before, and where the slit was made it was sewn together again with the fibre of a tree called the motuia. It thus formed a wooden cylinder. A top and bottom were next fixed in it, formed of grass rope, the lower one having a hole in the centre for the ingress and egress of the bees. When the hives, as I shall call them, were completed, they carried them off, and placed them high up in lofty trees in different parts of the forest. The bees which were flying about seeking habitations soon discovered them, and even while we were there some were already taken possession of. A piece of cloth was tied round the trunk of each tree, which, when I came to inquire about the matter, I learned was looked upon as a charm, and was sufficient to prevent any thieves robbing the hives. In the woods a number of beautiful yellow birds were flying about, some of which I afterwards saw in cages in the house of the chief and several of his people. The cages were very neatly made, and had traps on the tops to entice their still free companions. The chief called the birds cabazo, and I found that they were a species of canary. They fed them on a plant called the lotsa, of which they cultivate a considerable quantity for food, and wild canaries come and help themselves, much as sparrows do to the seeds which the gardeners have sown at home. I saw also several tame pigeons. Early in the morning numerous other little songsters were chirruping merrily away, some singing quite as loudly as our English thrushes; and one, the king-hunter, Halcyon senegalensis, makes a clear whirring sound like that of a whistle with a pea in it. As we were returning, suddenly we saw streaming out of a hole innumerable flying creatures. They formed a dense column. Out they came; there seemed to be no end of them. No sooner did our companions catch sight of them than they made chase. As the insects began to scatter, they appeared like snow-flakes floating about in the air. They were, I suspected, white ants. After flying a considerable distance they alighted on the ground, when, as we watched them, they bent up their tails, unhooked their wings, and began immediately digging away with wonderful rapidity into the earth. They had good need of haste, for birds were seen assembling from all quarters, numerous hawks being among them, who began snapping them up with the greatest avidity. The natives, too, immediately set to work to collect them, giving them a pinch and putting them into baskets which they carried at their sides. They were quite as eager to obtain them as the birds were. On picking some of them up I found that they were fully half an inch long, as thick as a crow-quill, and very fat. One I caught had its wings on, and fancying from the ease with which its fellows got rid of these appendages themselves that I could help it, I made the attempt, but the wings appeared to me as if hooked into the body, and I tore away a piece of the flesh at the same time. As long as an ant was to be found, the natives continued picking them up; and I suspect, out of the whole brood but a small number could have reached places of safety beneath the earth.

Our companions hurried home with their prizes, when they immediately lighted fires, and roasted the ants, much as they might have done chestnuts. All hands gathered round and ate them eagerly, evidently considering them among the greatest of delicacies. When they saw us watching them, they offered us some. “No, no,” said Natty; “I do not know what I may do, but I have not come to that yet.” The chief, who had the larger share brought to him, sat on the ground, rolling his eyes round as he dropped insect after insect into his mouth, evidently enjoying the repast, and seemed to look with an eye of pity on us when we declined partaking of it.

Soon after this we observed a number of the men dressing themselves up in a curious manner. Some had covered their heads with caps made of the skins of water-antelopes, with the horns still attached, part of the skin hanging down over their shoulders so as to conceal the upper part of their bodies. Others had manufactured the heads and beaks and long necks of white cranes into coverings for their heads. Carrying their bows and arrows in their hands, and quivers and darts at their backs, they set forth to the bank of the lake. We watched them crawling along amid the reeds, their heads alone being visible, and looking very like the animals they intended to represent. I could see in the distance on a sedgy bank several dark objects, which I guessed were crocodiles. The hunters approached them cautiously, now stopping, just as an antelope or crane would do to feed, now advancing again, now stopping, till they had got within bow-shot of the creatures. Then, quickly raising their weapons, they let fly at the same moment. The result at that distance I could not ascertain, but it appeared to me that, although I saw some movement among the objects, yet two or more remained on the bank. The hunters rushed on, now careless of exhibiting themselves, and in a short time returned with some of the flesh of the creatures they had killed. They immediately set out again, and as I watched to ascertain the direction they took, I saw in the far distance several buffaloes going down to drink at the lake. They were not back till dark; but, from the quantity of buffalo flesh they brought with them, I had no doubt they had killed one or two of the animals. Their plump cheeks and bodies showed that they had an abundance of food; and they were liberal in bestowing on us as much as we could desire.

Our friends remained for a couple of days, enjoying, after the African fashion, the abundance of food they had collected. Whenever we signified our wish to depart, the chief, as before, strenuously opposed it. In vain I protested against being detained, and made signs that we were determined to go, whether he wished it or not. This made him very angry, and from his manner when he left us, we feared that, should we really make the attempt, he would use force to prevent us. We therefore, as other people have done, had to yield to circumstances, and to make the best of our position. At last we agreed that we would appear to be contented with our lot, so as, if possible, to throw our captors off their guard. They were the most active and persevering hunters of any people we had yet met with. The morning after the last piece of buffalo flesh had been eaten (it had been rather too high for our stomachs), we found that they were preparing to set off on a hunting expedition, and we were not sorry to find that they expected us to accompany them. I carried my gun: I should have said I never let it out of my hand by day, and always placed it under my mat by night, that no one might take it from me. The chief, I fancy, looked upon it as my fetish, and certainly regarded it with considerable awe. Whether or not he had discovered that it had made the noise he had heard, I could not as yet ascertain. Among the hunters was a young man, whom we found to be the chief’s son. He was one of the best-looking of the tribe, though that is not saying much for him. He was, however, good-natured, and seemed inclined to make friends of us. We therefore kept by his side. About thirty hunters set out, headed by the young chief. They were armed with long spears and bundles of javelins, on which they appeared to depend for killing their prey, trusting to their activity and the knowledge of the animals they might attack to get out of their way. We passed through the wood we had before visited, and continued across an open prairie till we arrived at a forest of considerable size, extending on either hand as far as the eye could reach. The band at once entered it, spreading themselves out so as to beat a large part of the wood, but yet continuing within call, if not always within sight of each other. Natty and I followed the young chief. After proceeding some way one of the men came up, and presently we saw that they were all closing in towards a point a little way ahead. As we advanced I saw, just over the bushes, the back of a large white rhinoceros. The monster had come there probably to enjoy the shade of the wood. It seemed to be alone. The men all approached cautiously, concealing themselves under the brushwood till they were close upon the creature, then, starting up, they hurled their darts at it. The rhinoceros started forward, pursued by the hunters, the young chief taking the lead. Suddenly the creature seemed to stagger forward. Its front feet had sunk into a hole or artificial pit, I could not ascertain which. As it did so, instead of struggling, it remained perfectly quiet. At this juncture the young chief, with his spear in his hand, leaped on the animal’s back, intending apparently to plunge the spear into its head behind the ear. At that moment it suddenly reared itself up, and before our friend could leap off again began tearing away at a rapid rate through the forest. He clung to his seat in a wonderful way. His spear, however, before he could strike it into the animal’s neck, was hurled by a bough from his hand. The hunters pursued, shrieking loudly through fear of the life of their young chief. I too dreaded lest he should be thrown off, when the animal would too probably turn round upon him, and, before assistance could arrive, might transfix him with its terrible horn. I was also afraid to fire, lest I might wound the young man. His companions followed, shrieking and shouting as fast as they could. Natty and I followed after, but could not make way through the thick and tangled underwood so rapidly as the blacks. We were therefore left behind. Presently the rhinoceros turned, and came tearing towards us, forcing its way through the underwood. Still the black kept his seat, when the rhinoceros, swerving on one side, passed under the bough of a tree, and in the same manner that he had lost his spear he himself was hurled to the ground. He attempted to rise, but his ankle had apparently been sprained, and before he had gone many paces down he fell. The enraged creature seemed aware that it had got rid of its rider. It stopped, and eyeing him with a savage glance, rushed towards him with its horn pointed at his body. Now, I felt, was the time for me to fire, or the young man would certainly be killed. I had, providentially, a rest for my gun, and pulling the trigger, my bullet hit the rhinoceros directly behind the ear. The impetus it had gained sent it on several paces. A loud shriek rent the air; but just before it reached the young chief over it fell, and lay perfectly still. We ran forward to help up our young friend. He glanced up in my countenance with a look which showed that he was grateful for the service I had rendered him. He then took my hand and pressed it to his lips. In a few minutes the rest of the hunters came up, when he addressed them, and, I concluded, was telling them what I had done. I certainly never fired a shot with so much satisfaction. The men came round Natty and I, their whole demeanour completely changed, evidently looking upon us as heroes worthy of renown, while some begged to examine the wonderful weapon which had done the deed.

As soon as the hunters had cut up the rhinoceros, we returned in triumph to the village. The chief showed that he appreciated the service I had rendered him in saving the life of his son by warmly embracing us—a ceremony, by-the-by, with which we would gladly have dispensed. We were now, instead of being looked upon as prisoners at large, treated with every consideration; and when I signified that the only reward we required was to be allowed to return to our homes, I understood him to beg that we would remain one day longer, when he would accompany us as far as he could venture to go.

I suspected that his tribe were at war with their neighbours, as scouts were constantly coming and going, and that this was the reason why he could not accompany us in our search for Leo and Mango. We would gladly at once have set off to look for them; but when we showed a wish to go to the south, he made us understand that they were already carried a long way off, and that, coming from his village, we should be looked upon as enemies, and probably murdered. This we thought so likely, that we agreed it would be prudent to return home to obtain the assistance of our friends.

There was a grand feast at night on the flesh of the rhinoceros, and dancing and singing were kept up till a late hour—an amusement we would willingly have avoided.

Natty and I talked over the possibility of returning in the canoe, but there were no paddles; and we could scarcely have propelled her, even had we made some. We begged the chief to take care of her till our return, and this he promised, as far as we could understand, faithfully to do.

Next morning we again expressed our anxiety to set off, but the chief showed no inclination to let us go; and each time that we pressed him, he signified that we must remain a little longer. We were the less unwilling to do this, in the hope that we might, in the meantime, gain some news of Leo and Mango, and we once more urged the chief to try and discover where they were. He let us understand that he wanted first to have another hunt, and that I must bring my gun to assist him. I, of course, expressed my readiness to comply with his wishes, but resolved not to expend much of our powder, as we should require it on our return home. We were allowed to wander about the village wherever we liked, but we observed that all the time we were carefully watched. The women and children always started up with looks of astonishment when we came near them, the young ones running away, frightened at our white skins, just as European children would be alarmed at the sudden appearance of a black man among them. On the outskirts of the village, near the river, we came upon a group of people employed in burning large quantities of a coarse-looking rush and stalks of a plant which I had seen growing in a marsh near at hand. I had, the day before, by chance tasted the water in the march, and found it slightly brackish. On examining the proceedings of the people, I found that they were employed in manufacturing salt. Before them were a number of funnel-shaped baskets formed of grass rope. These were filled with the ashes, and water being poured into them, percolated through the basket-work into calabashes placed below to receive it. They were then put out in the sun, and the water evaporating, left a small amount of salt in each. Although there was not a sufficient quantity for salting fish or meat, the supply was ample for ordinary use, and we were glad to purchase some with a few beads which we had remaining in our pockets. Amply supplied as we are in England with that necessary article, we can scarcely appreciate its value in a country where it is not to be obtained without great difficulty. Natty and I agreed to husband our little stock carefully, as for the last few days we had felt the want of it when eating rhinoceros flesh. We had observed several animals coming down to this salt marsh to chew the coarse grass or to lick up the salt collected on the reeds.

As we were walking along we heard the chief calling to us, and found that he was prepared to set out on his proposed expedition. We saw as we proceeded many large animals in the distance, but they had evidently learned caution from the attacks made on them by the natives, and would not approach the village. As we appeared they took to flight, keeping always a long way out of range of our companions’ arrows. Once I got near a rhinoceros, but was unwilling to fire without feeling tolerably sure of hitting the animal, as I had determined not to throw away a shot if I could help it. At length we got into a region where we could obtain cover among low bushes, and occasionally clumps of trees. The natives took advantage of this, and hiding themselves under bushes, clumps of tall reeds or grass, proceeded for some distance. Natty and I followed their example. At last I saw, a little way from a grove of trees, a herd of cameleopards quietly feeding. The blacks lay like logs of wood on the ground, every now and then creeping slowly on when the heads of the animals were turned away from them. Still they were too far off for me to make sure of a shot. I saw, a little way on, a solitary bush. I thought if I could reach it I might be able to bring down one of the nearest giraffes. The natives watched me eagerly as, trailing my gun after me, I cautiously approached the bush. I was very anxious to kill an animal, in order still further to establish our credit, hoping thereby also more speedily to obtain permission to depart. I could not help constantly thinking of the alarm our prolonged absence would cause our friends.

As I crept on I saw the giraffes turning their heads, raised high in air, now in one direction, now in the other, as if they suspected danger. I should have said that they were near a small grove of trees, from the branches of which some of the herd were plucking the leaves. This grove had partly concealed our party, or we should not have approached so easily. I had never prided myself on being a sportsman; but I had steady nerves, and of late had given good practice to my eye, and thoroughly knew the range of my rifle. The bush was gained. A large bull cameleopard stood the nearest, every now and then turning his head to pluck a bunch of leaves from a branch which no other animal could have reached, but still apparently on the watch for danger. I raised myself on my knee, and lifting my rifle, took a steady aim at his breast. At the report the whole herd moved off, swinging their legs over the plain at a rapid rate. I thought that I must have missed, and yet my bullet seemed to strike the creature at whom I had aimed. Away he went with the rest. Before, however, he had proceeded fifty yards down he suddenly fell, and lay prostrate on the earth. The blacks, with loud shrieks and shouts, rose from their hiding-places and darted forward, and in a few minutes the wounded giraffe was surrounded by a band of dancing, shrieking, shouting blacks, delighted at the thought of the meal he was about to afford them. Natty and I stood at a little distance, when suddenly we saw the giraffe raise his neck high above the heads of the shrieking band. Presently out went his legs, and the chief and his followers were seen scattered here and there on every side, some prostrate on the ground, others scampering off to avoid the fury of the kicks of the dying animal. I thought some of them must have been killed. It was his last effort, however, and again sinking down, he lay perfectly quiet. The blacks picked themselves up, showing that at all events no mortal injury had been done, and again assembled round the body of the animal, though keeping at a more cautious distance till they had ascertained that he was really dead. On finding this to be the case, they sprang on the body, and began hacking away at it with their knives, till, in a short time, it presented nothing but a mass of mutilated flesh. The chief seemed highly delighted at our success, and I took the opportunity of again urging him to allow us to go, trying to make him understand that I would return, if he wished it, with companions who were still better able to kill game for him than I was.

As a large portion of the day had been expended, without attempting to seek for more game the chief led us back to the village.

“What do you think he will do?” asked Natty as we walked along. “If he will not let us go willingly, I propose that we take French leave, as Leo would say, and I do not think he will attempt to stop us by force.”

At a little distance from the village there stood, under a grove of trees, a hideous idol, at the top of a stout post. It was elaborately carved, representing rather the face of an ape than that of a man, and covered with red, yellow, and black paint. The hunters placed some of the meat of the giraffe before it, on a block of stone; but only a small quantity, and that of the least valuable parts. I guessed by this that they had no great respect for their idol. “Poor people,” said Natty, “perhaps they guess that they can cheat even it, and that it will not be able to distinguish between the best and worst parts.” Natty and I were also tempted to stop. He made signs to the chief, touching his own ears, and then shaking his head and pointing to the ears of the idol, to signify that it could not hear. Then he pointed to its mouth, and in the same way tried to explain that it could not eat the meat placed before it. Then he touched its head, to show that it could not understand. We fancied that the chief comprehended his meaning, for he laughed, and cast a contemptuous look at the ugly block. Although he did this, however, in our presence, it is possible that he still had some superstitious fear of the idol, or of the evil spirit it might have been intended to represent.

“The poor Africans have no knowledge of the powerful, kind, and merciful God,” observed Natty. “The beings to whom they pay respect they believe to be malign spirits, who will do them harm if they do not attempt to propitiate them by gifts and observances.”

I may observe here that we never paid the slightest respect to the negro idols, and never were treated worse in consequence; indeed, I believe that they would have despised us if we had done so, for though they may fancy that their idols have something to do with them, they believe that they have no power over the white men.

There was great rejoicing in the village on the arrival of the flesh of the giraffe, the greater portion of which was consumed long before the night was over. While seated with the chief, I again asked him to let us go, and he seemed to intimate that he would do so the following morning. While we were at supper, Natty proposed that we should hide as much food as would last us for the following day. “A good idea,” I observed. The pockets of our shooting-jackets were capacious. Whenever the chief was looking another way, we contrived to slip in large pieces of meat and cassava cake, besides pieces of plantain. They made somewhat of a mess in our pockets, but we could not be particular. As the chief consumed double as much as we hid away he was not surprised at the rapid disappearance of the food, and had not observed our manoeuvre.

Natty and I lay down to rest, hoping that before another sunset we might be far on our way homewards.

Chapter Seventeen.

Our Escape and Journey through the Wilderness.

I awoke just as day broke, and roused up Natty.

“Where are we?” he exclaimed. “Oh, I was dreaming, and so happy!”

“We have realities before us,” I remarked. “Are you prepared for starting?”

“Yes, yes,” he whispered; “by all means. Probably the people, after their debauch, will sleep soundly, and we may get some way before we are overtaken.”

We put on our jackets, which we had placed at our sides, having slept covered up with mats provided for us. We then cautiously pushed open the reed-formed door, and stood looking out up and down the street of the village. The stars were still twinkling overhead, though gradually growing dimmer as the grey light of morning advanced. I carefully marked the course we were to take, and observing all the doors closed, we now sallied forth, and crept cautiously along towards the end of the street which opened out in the direction of our home. Every moment we expected to be pursued. If we were, we agreed to put a bold face on the matter, and to claim the right of departing. Fortunately the inhabitants, from having sat up the greater part of the night eating, were sound asleep, and we hoped that our night would not be discovered till we were a considerable distance on the road. We stole on, treading as lightly as possible in the centre of the street. We could hear loud snores proceeding from some of the huts. The sound gave us confidence. It also showed us how easily a native village might be surprised by enemies. The careless, thoughtless people seemed to have forgotten that they were at war with their neighbours. We reached the end of the street. There was a gateway, but the gate was closed. On examining it we found that it might be easily opened; but I feared that while we were doing so the proper guards might pounce out on us. They too had left their posts, and we were reassured by hearing loud snores coming forth from a hut close at hand. I did not like to leave the gate open. Natty whispered to me that he thought he could climb over it. There was no great difficulty in doing that; the only fear was that on dropping on the other side we might be heard. However, there was no time to be lost. I helped Natty up, and he scrambled down without making any noise on the opposite side. I followed, and reached the top. I might without danger have dropped down, but, for the reason I have mentioned, I thought it better to lower myself gradually. My foot, however, slipped when halfway, and the wood-work creaked loudly, while the noise I made in falling would, I feared, arouse the sleeping guard. We stopped for a minute. Still the snoring sounds came loud as before. There was no necessity for further delay. We therefore, walking as noiselessly as we could, hurried on towards the north-west. We followed a well-beaten path, which I had before noted as leading in the direction we wished to go. As soon as we had got far enough from the village to make it unlikely that our footsteps would be heard, we began running, I leading, and Natty following close at my heels. I had been a good runner, but was out of practice. Natty, however, was very active, and easily kept up with me. We ran on for an hour or more without stopping, till we were bathed in perspiration, and I felt that I could not go much further without rest.

“Do stop,” said Natty. “Even if the blacks discovered our escape directly after we left the village, it must be some time before they can overtake us.”

“You are right,” I answered; “a little rest will enable us to go faster afterwards.”

We sat down under a wide-spreading tree. The shade was pleasant; for the sun, which had already shot up high into the heavens, sent down his rays with great force. The air was full of life. Insects were buzzing about, and gaily-decked parrots flew from bough to bough, while the monkeys came out of their leafy covers and looked down upon us with astonishment. We took the opportunity of eating some of the food we had brought in our pockets. It was not very nice, but it satisfied our hunger. I was soon ready to proceed. Natty, however, urged me to rest a little longer, thinking that I should be over-fatigued by such unusual exercise.

“Come along,” I said; “the further we are off, the less likely our friends at the village will be to insist on our returning with them.”

We went on as before. Sometimes a snake glided across our path, but quickly got out of our way, more frightened at us than we were at seeing it. Now we heard a rustling in the underwood, and a panther or hyena dashed away amid the foliage without thinking of attacking us. We had gone on at a slower pace than at first, when, by the appearance of the sun in the sky, I saw that it must be noon. I now once more called a halt, for I felt tired myself, and was afraid that Natty must be equally so. We had for some time been crossing the open prairie, steering, by the sun and the distant line of mountain, as I hoped in the right direction. Before us lay a thick wood. Natty proposed that we should take shelter within it, as, even should the natives closely pursue us, we might there have the prospect of remaining concealed while they passed by.

“I am afraid that you have scarcely yet recovered your strength sufficiently to march on all day without rest,” said Natty; “and as I could not find my way without you, I hope, for my sake as well as yours, that you will stop for an hour or so here.”

This argument prevailed with me; for I was so anxious to reach home, and felt so strong, that I should have gone on till night would prevent us from proceeding further. We accordingly entered the wood, and after making our way a short distance into it, came to a small open spot, free of trees or thick underwood.

“I propose that we build a hut of boughs here,” said Natty. “We can take our turns to go to sleep in it, and it will help to guard us against the attacks of lions or other beasts.”

With our axes we cut down a sufficient number of boughs to form a shelter, and having planted them close together, a hut was formed which would, I hoped, afford us ample protection. As the sun struck down into the woodland glade with great force, we took our seats within the hut for the sake of the shade, and discussed a further portion of our provisions. I saw that Natty was very sleepy, though he was trying his utmost to keep awake. I therefore told him to lie down, and that I would watch. Finding a branch of a tree torn off, perhaps by lightning, I chopped a piece of sufficient length to serve as a pillow, and having examined it carefully to see that no scorpion or other stinging insect lurked within, I placed it under his head, and sat down at the entrance of our leafy bower to keep watch, with my gun by my side, ready for action at a moment’s notice. I felt somewhat drowsy, but made every effort to arouse myself, feeling the importance of keeping awake. Presently I heard a slight rustling, as if some animal was moving among the bushes near me; but without shifting my position I could see nothing. Then I heard a sound as if creatures were nibbling grass or leaves. This made me sure that no savage beast caused the sounds, and I sat quiet, expecting soon to discover what creatures they were. Presently two beautiful fawns came in sight. They did not perceive me, but went on quietly grazing, unconscious of the presence of one of their many enemies. At length they came full before me. “Shall I fire?” I asked myself. “One of them would afford us ample food till we could reach home.” I was afraid, however, that should I move to raise my rifle, and get into a better position for taking aim, they would instantly be off, and bound into the thicket before I could even fire. While I was considering (though sportsmen may laugh at me, I own I was unwilling to kill one of the beautiful creatures), another, of a very different character, appeared on the scene. Suddenly I caught sight of a pair of glaring eyes amid the thick gloom of the thicket on my left. I saw a large tiger-looking animal of a fawn colour, the back variegated with round black spots. I guessed at once that the creature was a cheetah, or hunting leopard, and thought it was lying in wait for the deer till they should approach within distance of its spring. I had no idea, however, that it could make so prodigious a bound as it at that moment did; for scarcely had I seen it, when it sprang out of its ambush, and alighted on the unfortunate buck, which it struck down with one tremendous blow. Seizing my rifle, and throwing myself on my knee, I took a steady aim, and the ball entered the cheetah’s head. It sprang up, dragging its prey with it, but instantly sank down, and rolled over dead. Natty sprang to his feet at the report. The cheetah had settled the question whether the buck should die, for the poor creature was so mangled, though not killed outright, that we saw it would be a mercy to put it out of its sufferings. This we immediately did. Its more fortunate companion had escaped into the open ground.

We lost no time in cutting up our prize, for the meat we had brought with us was already scarcely fit to eat, and we both confessed to feeling very hungry again.

“We may as well light a fire and cook it,” I said. “We must take care, however, not to set the wood in a blaze.”

There was ample fuel about, and choosing a spot where the grass was green, and did not readily burn, we piled up the sticks we collected. I had a tinder-box and matches in my wallet, and thus we soon had a good fire burning. In a short time we had some pieces of venison roasting in woodland fashion on forked sticks before the fire.

Having selected the best parts of the venison, and wrapped them up in leaves to carry with us, we recommenced our meal on the portion we had cooked. The salt we had purchased a few days before was now particularly acceptable, and we both had meat, we hoped, sufficient to sustain us for many hours. Now greatly refreshed, we prepared to proceed on our journey. We first put out the fire, however, that there might be no risk of setting the forest in a blaze.

“We must leave the cheetah and the rest of the deer to the birds and beasts of prey which are sure to visit it before long,” I observed. “And now, Natty, let us be off.”

Scarcely had I uttered the words when he touched my arm. “Stay,” he said; “I am sure I heard voices in the distance.”

We listened. There could be no doubt of it. The sounds drew nearer. The tones were very similar to those we had heard during our stay at the village.

“They must be our late friends come to look after us,” I observed. “If we are discovered, we will put a good face on the matter.”

“Would it not be better to go and meet them at once, and present them with the game we have killed?” said Natty.

I agreed with him; and peering out from our shelter, I recognised the chief and his son, with a band of followers. Loading ourselves, therefore, with as much venison as we could carry, we sallied boldly forth, and were soon face to face with our late hosts. Their look of astonishment when they saw us and the meat we carried was very great. By the expression of their countenances, however, we saw that they were not offended. As far as we could understand, the chief only reproached us for going away without bidding him farewell. I felt myself somewhat embarrassed, for I could not help seeing that he had intended to let us go as he promised. We showed that we had enough meat for ourselves, and presented him with the larger portion. Having done this, we led him and his companions to the spot where the cheetah and the remainder of the deer lay. His companions quickly cut up the cheetah as we had done the deer, and divided the flesh among them. We then pointed in the direction we wished to go, and the chief taking my hand, and his son Natty’s, we proceeded onwards in the most friendly way. At length my conductor came to a full stop, and, looking me in the face, seemed again to be reproaching me for having left his village by stealth. I tried, as before, to explain that we were in a hurry to reach our friends; and as he had detained us longer than we wished, we were afraid he might still keep us prisoners. Whether I was right in my conjectures as to his meaning, I am not quite certain. He, at all events, showed that he was friendly disposed towards us.

He now signified that he could go no further, and, pointing ahead, intimated that we should find enemies in our path if we went direct. He then, pointing to the left, advised us, as I understood him, to make a circuit so as to avoid the danger. Having satisfied himself that we clearly understood his advice, he and his son warmly shook our hands, their followers imitating their example. Such a shaking of hands I had never before gone through. I observed as I turned away that there was an expression of sorrow in their countenances, which arose partly, perhaps, from parting with us, and partly from the dangers which they apprehended we should have to encounter.

We now took our way to the south-west, skirting the edge of the forest, which appeared to extend towards the lake. We had not gone far, when, turning round, I saw the young chief stopping and gazing at us. When he found that he was observed, leaving his party, he darted after us, and once more took our hands, pressing them warmly, intimating that if his father would give him leave he would accompany us. His father’s voice, however, called him back, and, with a look of regret, he again left us.

“At all events,” observed Natty, “we must acknowledge that gratitude can exist in the breasts of these Africans.”

“It does certainly in that of our friend,” I said. “They generally have a very different character bestowed on them.”

As long as the blacks remained in sight, we could see the young chief every now and then turning and casting lingering glances towards us.

We now pushed on, hoping to find some secure place where we might pass the night. We were fortunate in finding a tree with wide-spreading branches, radiating so closely from a common centre that they formed a wide and secure platform on which we could rest without fear of falling off. We climbed up as soon as we had supped, and passed the night in perfect quiet.

I need not mention the incidents of the two following days. We were cheered as we trudged on with the expectation of soon rejoining our friends.

It struck me, on the third day of our journey, as we walked on, that Natty was less inclined to speak than usual; and looking at his face, I saw that he was deadly pale. He did not complain, however. I asked him if anything was the matter. He said no; he only felt a little fatigued, and thought that he should be revived by a night’s rest. I proposed that we should stop at once; but to this he would not consent, declaring that he was well able to get on as long as daylight lasted.

The country though which we passed was similar to what I have already described. We proceeded in as direct a line as we could steer, keeping the distant hills on our right, instead of going towards them.

I proposed the following day to begin circling round more directly for them, as I hoped that we had now gone far enough south to avoid the village against which the chief and his son had warned us. I should not have hesitated, however, to have gone amongst the people, had I not feared that we might be detained by them as we had been by their neighbours.

The forest as we advanced grew thinner, and we found the trees at length standing so widely apart that we could see the plain beyond them. As the wood might afford us more shelter than the open plain, and the sun was already sinking towards the blue hills in the distance, we agreed to halt. As I saw that Natty was not able to exert himself, I bade him sit down while I cut branches to form a hut, and collected wood for a fire. As I could not tell what wild animals might be roaming about around us, I determined to make our hut sufficiently strong to resist an attack.

I selected a tree of a considerable diameter, which served as a back to the hut. I stuck the uprights in the soft ground among the roots. There were plenty of vines, with which I bound the cross-pieces to the trunk and to the uprights. The intervening spaces I filled up with light perpendicular poles. While I was gathering a further supply, I found that Natty had interwoven them with branches and vines, thus forming tolerably substantial walls. Some of the boughs thrown over the top served for a roof, which, however, would not have kept out a tropical shower; but there was no fear, we thought, of rain. Darkness was now coming rapidly on, but I had not yet a sufficient supply of wood to keep up our fire all the night; and I told Natty to make it up and light it while I went to collect more broken branches, of which there were numbers lying about, torn off probably by a hurricane. While I was engaged, I saw the fire blaze up, and hoped that Natty would have some venison roasted by the time I had finished my work. Having brought a couple of loads and placed them down by the side of the hut, I went away for a third. I had got as many branches as I could carry, and returned with them towards our encampment, expecting to hear Natty hail me as I drew near; but as I approached the fire I could not distinguish him. I called, but no answer came. My heart sank within me. I was afraid that some accident had happened. Again and again I called. Throwing down the branches, I hurried on towards the hut, when what was my grief to see him extended on the ground at the entrance, and some little way from the fire! I knelt down by his side and put my hand to his heart. It beat, though feebly. I examined him, but could find no wound. He had swooned, apparently from exhaustion. Our waterbottles were full, as we had replenished them at the last stream we passed, knowing that we might afterwards have to go many miles without finding more. His whole dress was so loose that there was no necessity to undo any part of it; but I sprinkled his face with water, and then poured a few drops down his throat. Still he lay without moving.

“Natty, my dear Natty, what has happened to you? Speak to me! Speak!” I could not help exclaiming.

I had no stimulant, no medicine of any sort. I must trust, I knew, alone to Nature, or rather, I should say, to the kind Being who directs its laws. To Him I looked up and prayed that my young friend might recover. Forgetting everything but Natty, I continued kneeling, holding his head on my arm. At length, by the light of the fire, as night came on, I saw his eyes opening.

“Push on, Andrew,” he whispered; “we may still keep ahead of them! I will run as fast as you do!”

I saw that his mind was wandering. Then he heaved a deep sigh.

“Are you better, Natty?” I asked.

“Oh yes. Where am I?” he asked, staring about him.

I told him I thought he had fainted, and begged that he would take some food and then lie down. He had already torn off some of the leaves from the boughs, and had made a sufficient bed for us; but, of course, we intended that only one should sleep at a time.

At length, to my great joy, he was able to sit up by himself on the ground. Finding this, I went to the fire to get the venison, which had been left roasting before it. As may be supposed, it was somewhat burned, but I was able to cut as many small slices from it as he could eat. After tasting a piece, he said, “Do you take it, Andrew. I do not think I want it.” I pressed him, however; and in a little time he was able to make a tolerable meal. I then placed him inside the hut, telling him that I would sit up and keep watch till it was his turn, of course intending to let him sleep on the whole of the night, if he could do so.

I then made up the fire, finished the piece of burned venison, and sat myself down in front of the hut. I looked in several times, and was thankful at length to find that Natty was asleep, I felt a strong inclination to sleep also, and had the greatest difficulty in keeping myself awake. Whenever I felt myself nodding, I got up and walked about; but I was tired, and certainly required rest. At last I did what many a sentinel has done under similar circumstances. Though believing I was quite awake, I fell fast asleep. Even in my dreams I thought I was getting up, walking about, and then sitting down again, and then going to look in at Natty. Then I thought I made up the fire. I was somewhat surprised that it did not blaze as readily as before. By this time I was fast asleep. At length I thought I went in to look at Natty again, when what was my horror not to find him.

I awoke, to find myself leaning against the entrance at the end of our hut. The fire was very low, a few glowing embers alone remaining. The night was dark. As I looked round me, trying to open my eyes wide, what was my dismay to see numerous pairs of shining orbs gazing at me through the gloom! That they were the eyes of wild beasts I was convinced, though of what description I could not tell. The usual night sounds of an African forest alone reached my ears. The eyes seemed to be drawing nearer and nearer; and now suddenly a chorus of loud sharp barks and snarls burst forth, and by the faint light cast by the fire I could see a number of animals approaching the spot. I now guessed that they were wild dogs, a species of hyena, which hunt in packs like wolves; or perhaps true hyenas, and would prove, I dreaded, formidable assailants. Through the gloom I saw just then another body, which I guessed was a second pack arriving, thus causing the angry remonstrances of the first. A pile of firewood lay near me. I threw some of the sticks on my fire, hoping, if it blazed up, they would not attempt to pass it. My gun I had ready by my side; but as I could only kill one at a time, I was afraid, should I begin the assault, I should find it a hard matter to drive them off. I did not like to wake Natty; indeed, in his weak state he would have been of little assistance. The effect of throwing the sticks on the fire was, at first, to dull it, and I was afraid I had put it out altogether. This made the creatures draw still nearer. I rose to my feet and stood at the door of the hut, resolving, should they come, to defend my young companion to the last. If they seized me, I knew that my fate and his would be sealed. The brutes kept rushing backwards and forwards within a few yards of the fire, growling and yelping furiously. I was surprised that the noise did not awake Natty. His sleep, doubtless, was produced by utter exhaustion. I was afraid, however, that if I fired, Natty would be startled. I therefore called out to him, “Do not be alarmed when you hear the report of my rifle! Natty! Natty! awake!” I called out several times. I began to fear that he was senseless, or even that worse had happened. “Natty! my dear Natty! what is the matter?” I again shouted out.

The effect of my voice was what I had not expected, for my savage assailants on hearing it began to retreat to a more respectful distance. I thought that I might venture to enter the hut to see what was the matter with Natty. The brutes, however, directly I was silent, again came on. I was relieved too by hearing Natty ask, “What is it all about, Andrew? Have you found Leo and Mango? I have been dreaming about them so much.” Greatly relieved, I replied that some wild animals were in the neighbourhood, and that I was going to fire at them; and once more I turned my face towards our enemies.

The brutes were again drawing nearer. Advancing a pace or two to the fire, I gave it a kick with my foot. This made the flames leap up. By their light I saw that a fresh actor had come upon the stage and attracted the attention of the savage brutes. A huge serpent had crawled out from among the bushes. It sprang upon one of the dogs, which immediately, writhing in agony, sank on the ground. Instead of taking to flight, however, they rushed at the creature, one of them seizing it by the back, but not before one or two others were bitten. The rest then set on it, and tearing it to pieces, quickly devoured the greater portion, leaving the head, on account I concluded of the venom it contained. Not satisfied with their victory over the snake, they once more advanced towards me with hideous growls and yelps. Seeing that it would be dangerous to allow them to approach nearer, I took aim at a large animal, which appeared to be the leader of the pack. I knocked him over, and he lay struggling on the ground yelping loudly. His companions came round him, and gave me time to reload. I did not wish to expend my ammunition uselessly, so, stooping down, I seized a burning stick, giving another poke to the fire as I did so, and then waved the brand round and round, shouting loudly in a gruff voice, and ordering the dogs to be off. Though they did not understand what I said, the tone of my voice had the effect I desired; and, greatly to my relief, barking and yelping, they scampered away, I shouting after them. The animal I had shot kicked his last as they disappeared in the gloom of the night, and I hoped that I was rid of them.

Having thrown some more sticks on the fire, I went back to Natty. I felt his hand; it appeared very feverish, and I was still more alarmed by hearing the incoherent expressions he uttered. Weary as I was, I could not venture again to go to sleep. I sat down, therefore, by the side of my poor young companion, moistening his fevered lips every now and then with water, and bathing his forehead. Still it was with the greatest difficulty I could keep my eyes open. Sometimes I got up and walked about in front of the hut, and threw a few more sticks on the fire. I myself, it must be remembered, had scarcely recovered from my illness. Having again made up the fire, increasing it to nearly double the size, I once more sat down by Natty’s side. I talked aloud, and kept pinching myself, in the hope that by so doing I might keep awake. But exhausted nature at length had its way—my head dropped on my bosom, and I was asleep, so soundly indeed, that I doubt if the loudest noise would have aroused me.

In spite of my intentions, I must have had some hours’ sleep. I was awaked by a bright light striking my eyes, and opening them, they were dazzled by the almost horizontal rays of the rising sun coming across the plain. My ears were assailed also by a loud barking and yelping, and I saw close to me the pack of savage dogs which had paid me a visit the night before, setting furiously on the body of their companion whom I had shot. The light of the sun had awaked me in time, or they might have made an attack on the hut before I was ready for their reception. I let them devour their companion, which they speedily did, leaving not a particle of skin or bone behind them; one running off with one piece, and one with another. The remainder, disappointed of their share of the prey, then turned their savage eyes towards me. Once more I shouted loudly, and taking off my jacket, waved it at them. Again, to my satisfaction, off the creatures scampered; and I hoped that I had seen the last of them. They had not touched the bodies of their companions bitten by the serpent, which had already become putrid. As I dragged the carcases to a distance, I felt thankful that the dogs had visited us, as, had they not come when they did, the snake might have found its way to the hut, and bitten Natty or me. I could not tell its species, but thought that it was probably the same which had made its appearance on the island when we were escaping from the Pangwes.

Chapter Eighteen.

My Adventures with Natty in the Desert.

On re-entering the hut I found that Natty was still sleeping; but his slumbers were greatly troubled, and he had evidently much fever on him. Oh, how I wished that David had been with us; for, with all my anxiety, I did not know how to treat him. One thing was certain, he was utterly unable to travel. I was unwilling even to go out of sight of the hut, lest some wild beast might in the meantime come near it. I must do so, however, before long, I saw; for our slender stock of water was already almost exhausted, and cold water, I felt sure, was absolutely necessary for him. In what direction I was most likely to find it I could not tell. The last stream we crossed was some distance back, and I might have to go a long way across the plain before coming to another; indeed, in no direction did the appearance of the country indicate a stream or fountain. This thought caused me the greatest anxiety. I would have endured any amount of thirst, I thought, rather than not give Natty what he required. I remembered that the orphan boy was committed to my charge by his father, and as a father would treat his son, so was I bound to treat him.

After sitting by his side for some time and eating a slender breakfast, I took my gun and walked about the hut, now going in one direction, now in the other, in the hope of finding indications of water. Perhaps, I thought, I may kill a parrot or pigeon, or some other bird, which may be more palatable to him than stronger meat. I went further and further, but still could find no signs of water. While I was at the furthest point the dread seized me, that although the hut was in sight some creature might have stolen in, and I hurried back, dreading to find my fears realised. Not till I had entered the hut and knelt down by his side was I satisfied that he was safe. He was still sleeping, and I hoped he might thereby recover his strength. After sitting for some time by his side, I again got up and cut a number of boughs. These I stuck in round the entrance, so that no creature could possibly get in. I now ventured to go rather further from the hut, but could not bring myself to lose sight of the tree under which it was situated. I continued looking about for birds; for though I saw some at a distance, I could not get near enough to be certain of a shot; and as I said before, I could not venture to throw any of my ammunition away. I was beginning to feel very thirsty, and had recourse to chewing leaves, hoping that it would relieve me. It had, however, but little effect. At last, greatly out of spirits, I returned to the hut. Natty awoke as I pulled aside the boughs. He scarcely seemed to know me, however. I gave him a little water, and I thought, after taking it, he looked rather better, so I gave him more. I had been sitting by his side for some time, when I heard him whisper—“You had better go on, Andrew; I will follow by-and-by, but do not stop for me.”

“That will never do,” I answered, thankful to hear him speak. “You will get well shortly, and then we will go on together.”

“I will try to go with you now,” he said, trying to rise; but he sank back immediately, unable to lift himself from the ground. He uttered a sigh on discovering his weakness.

I passed the remainder of the day as I had the commencement. As I saw evening approaching I collected a large supply of broken branches to serve as firewood, and then made up a semicircular heap, which I intended to keep blazing all the night. I was sorry that I had not slept during the day, that I might the more easily keep awake while on my watch. I took some supper, though, in consequence of the thirst from which I was suffering, I felt little disposed to eat; but still I was unwilling to exhaust our water by drinking more than a few drops. I knew that the next day I must inevitably go in search of some. My young companion’s life might depend upon my finding it. To avoid the risk of being surprised should I fall asleep, after I had lighted the fire and seen that it blazed up thoroughly, I took my seat inside the hut, and secured the boughs as before. In spite of my resolution to keep awake, I had not been seated on the ground more than an hour or so before I felt sleep stealing over me. At length I tried to arouse myself. I was completely overpowered, though I still retained a consciousness of where I was, and of the necessity of being on my guard. Suddenly I awoke, feeling an undefined dread. I could hear Natty breathing, but all was dark inside the hut. On looking out I discovered that I must have been asleep for some time, for the fire was entirely extinguished. I sprang up, leaving my gun on the ground. My first impulse was to re-light the fire. I hurriedly felt about for the sticks, which I had placed on one side, and carried them to the spot where the fire had been burning. I placed them as before in a semicircle. Finding that I could not strike the light in the open air, I retired into the hut to do so. Whilst thus employed I fancied I heard some creature moving over the ground. I got the match lighted, and then set fire to the bundle of twigs which I had collected. With these in my hand, I went to the pile of wood. I tried to light it. At last I set it on fire in one place. I was then moving round to another, when I saw at about twenty paces off a dark object creeping slowly towards me. On it came; and while blowing away at the wood to cause it to ignite, I began to distinguish the outlines of a huge lion. In a few seconds the savage monster might be upon me. Already he was near enough, I thought, to make his spring with fatal effect. I knew that my chief safety would depend on the fire blazing up quickly. Taking the torch, therefore, and mustering all the nerve I possessed, I tried to light the pile at another spot between the two which were already beginning to burn, though feebly. Now I bent down and blew, now looked up towards the lion. To my horror, I saw him crouching down, and slowly creeping towards me. I knew he was doing so preparatory to making his tremendous spring. Just then a breeze fanned my cheek. It came stronger and stronger, and up blazed the fire. The lion stopped. Giving a stir to the fire as I passed along it, I rushed back to my hut and seized my gun. As the fire blazed up the monster gave a tremendous roar of rage and disappointment, but still held his ground. The sound awoke Natty, who asked, in a trembling voice, what was the matter. “Remain quiet,” I answered. “We have an unwelcome visitor, but I hope to drive him away.” Again the lion roared and lashed his tail, but he could not bring himself to dash through the fire, though he must have seen me moving about on the other side of it. I stood up with my gun, which I had loaded with a bullet, hoping to hit him should he make a spring. Still he did not move; and remembering the effects of my shouts the night before, I suddenly rushed towards the fire, kicking it about, so as to make the flames rise up more briskly than before, and at the same time shouting out at the top of my voice. The lion roared in return. The louder he roared, the more wildly I shouted and shrieked; and then, seizing a number of burning sticks, I sprang over the fire towards him. The effect was satisfactory, for, turning round, away he bounded into the darkness, whilst I shouted out, “Victory! victory!” I had heard that if lions are thus met by a bold front, they often prove cowardly; and I hoped, therefore, that my visitor would not return. I now made up the fire, and went back to Natty. I found him trembling with alarm, but in other respects far more like himself than he had been all the day. This raised my hopes of his recovery. I gave him a little water and a few mouthfuls of cassava; and I was glad to find that in a short time he again dropped off to sleep. As may be supposed, I had no inclination, after my encounter with the lion, again to close my eyes. Should Natty be better in the morning, I resolved to start off at an early hour in search of water. I was therefore thankful when the cheering light of day again returned. I gave Natty some more food, and almost the last drops of water we possessed. I had a small drinking-cup; into this I poured the remainder, and told him to husband it carefully.

“I must go out, Natty, and try and find some more,” I said. “I will imprison you as securely as I can, and you must try to wait patiently till I return. I will not be absent a moment longer than I can help.”

Natty looked anxiously up at me. “Is it absolutely necessary?” he asked.

“Yes, indeed,” I said; “but I hope that before long I shall find what we want, and in a day or two you will be able to accompany me home.”

“I will try to get well; but it is not my fault, Andrew. I would walk if I could,” he said, in a faint tone.

I was not content with merely closing the entrance, but getting some strong vines, I intertwined them round the walls and then got some large boughs, and placed them over the whole building. I trusted that thus no animal could possibly enter. I knew that sufficient air would be obtained through the roof. All that I could do was to pray, for his sake and my own, that I might return in safety to him.

“Good-bye, Natty,” I said, when I had finished the work. “Keep up your spirits, my boy. I hope soon to be back; but if I do not come as quickly as you expect, do not be alarmed. I may have to go some way for water.”

My wisest course perhaps was to have gone back to the last stream we had passed; but then I could not have returned the same night to our hut, and what would poor Natty have done all that time without me? I therefore determined to push on in an opposite direction, hoping that I might meet with a fountain or rivulet. On and on I went. The sun, as he rose in the sky, grew hotter and hotter. I had not a drop of water to cool my dry tongue. I had never before really known the feeling of want of water. I had been very thirsty; but now the whole inside of my mouth and throat seemed to consist of a dry horny substance, or as if I had swallowed some of the contents of a dust-bin. Still on and on I went. I hoped by continuing in a direct course that I should obtain water more speedily.

A considerable portion of the day had passed away. The sun had attained its greatest heat, when I thought I saw in the distance a line of trees, which I felt sure indicated the presence of water. I pushed on more eagerly, but as I advanced they changed their outline, and suddenly disappeared. All I could see before me was a low line of grass and bushes, which had evidently been magnified by a mirage into the proportion of lofty trees. I went on, but continued to be deceived time after time in the same way. In every direction the mirage danced on the plain. I found that in reality the range of my vision was restricted to a very moderate distance. Suddenly a herd of animals appeared, lifted completely up in the air. They were deer of some species. I hoped by killing one that I might somewhat quench my raging thirst with its blood, but before I had got up to where I had seen them they had scampered off. At length I saw what I felt sure was a pool of water. Eagerly I hurried towards it. It was a long way off, I thought; but I was willing to go any distance for the wished-for fluid, hoping that my sufferings would find relief, and that I might return before nightfall to my young companion. I was confirmed in my opinion by catching sight of several gnus going in the same direction. “They are going there to drink,” I thought; and I felt ready even to encounter lions or any other savage beasts for the sake of the water. The gnus did not perceive me, as they were to windward. There was, however, so little wind that I had to wet my finger and hold it up to discover the point from which it came. I hoped that I should be able to get close up to the animals. Now they stopped and fed, now they moved on again slowly. Presently I saw them stop, when they began switching their tails, and sniffing the air, and scraping the earth impatiently with their hoofs. As I was concealed by the ground, which here was sufficiently uneven for the purpose, I did not think that they could have discovered me. Presently I was startled by the fierce growl of some animal at no great distance. I stopped; and looking round, I saw to my horror a huge lion and lioness at a short way off, just above me. It was evident that they had been following the gnus, who had only at that instant begun to suspect their presence. The lion must at the same time have discovered me, and uttered the roar which I had heard, while his companion was still creeping on after the gnus. I stopped and knelt down, holding my rifle ready to fire should the lion approach me. Still there was the lioness, and being sure that the report of my gun would attract her even should I kill the lion, I determined not to fire till it was absolutely necessary. The growl which the lion uttered at seeing me must have been heard by the gnus, which now set off at a rapid pace to escape from their pursuers. The lioness darted forward in pursuit, and the lion, uttering a few more savage roars at me, turned round and followed her. I was free from their company for the moment, but the knowledge that they were in the neighbourhood added greatly to my anxiety. I could not help fearing, too, that they or others might find their way to poor Natty’s hut during my absence. I had for the moment forgotten my thirst, but now again the sufferings I had been enduring returned, and I turned my eyes once more towards the spot where I had seen the pond. Both the gnus and the lions had disappeared. I went on, thinking that I must soon reach the water. After hurrying on till I felt ready to drop, I found myself standing on an extent of hard-baked earth, while the glittering pool I had hoped to reach had disappeared. I looked round. Similar pools appeared in various places on the very ground I had come over. I knew therefore that they were but deceptions caused by the mirage. What had become of the lions I could not tell. I only hoped that the gnus had led them a long chase, and that they were far away from me.

Wearied out, I sat down under the shade of a rock, which just sheltered my head and shoulders. My spirits were sinking. I began to fear that I had death alone to expect as a termination to my sufferings. And poor Natty, he would die too; for weak from fever, and unable to help himself, he must inevitably be starved. “I will go back and die with him,” I exclaimed. “While a particle of strength remains, I will push on. I cannot let him suffer alone!” While these thoughts were passing through my mind, I saw some birds flying through the air, uttering as they went a soft melodious cry, which sounded somewhat like “Pretty dear! pretty dear!” I watched them anxiously. They were too far off for me to hit them, but I judged from their flight that they were a species of partridge which I had before seen. They came from the south-east, directing their course towards the north-west. Presently I observed, as I watched them anxiously, that they neared the ground, and then seemed to me settling down at no great distance off.

I remembered having heard that springs have been discovered by travellers in the desert by watching the flight of birds, and I hoped that these were on their way to some fountain. I arose, and hurried on as fast as my weakness would allow in the direction they had taken. Still I could not help dreading that I might be again disappointed. I caught sight at length of some rocks, on the other side of which they had disappeared. The rocks rose high above the dry, hard ground. As yet there was no indication of water. My heart sunk within me, but I persevered. I had not strength to climb the rocks, which rose high up before me, but I circled round them. I got to the other side, when my eyes were gladdened by the sight of green herbage and luxuriant shrubs, which I knew delight in water. Hurrying on, I saw beneath the rocks a calm, clear crystal pool. Oh, how delighted I felt! But on getting to the edge I found that the water was too far below me to be easily reached. I scrambled along the rocks, till at length I discovered a spot which appeared not more than a foot or two above the water. I reached it at length, and throwing myself on the ground, bent over till I could clip my hands in the pure liquid. I eagerly lapped it up. I felt that I could never drink enough. By degrees my parched tongue and mouth began to feel cool, and I rose like another person. After resting a few minutes, I filled my water-bottle. Evening was approaching, but I could not bear the thought of leaving Natty all the night without attempting to return to him. Once more I drank my fill. While drinking, I saw several other flights of birds arrive at the water. A covey of them pitched thickly on a rock near me. They would afford valuable nourishment to my young friend. I withdrew the bullet from my rifle and loaded it with small shot. It was an ungrateful act I was about to perpetrate, I confess; I thought so even at the time. The birds, too, seemed fearless of me. I raised my gun and fired. Greatly to my delight, I saw three lying on the rock, and two others fluttering near. I hurried forward to secure them. Scarcely had I done so when, looking round, I saw a lion and lioness—probably the same which had pursued the gnus—approaching the pool. Strange to say, I felt but little fear of them. Still I thought it unwise to stand in their path should they be on their way to drink, as I had no doubt they were. I accordingly scrambled along the rock to a high point, whence I could look down upon them as they passed. On seeing me they stopped, and seemed to be consulting together whether they should attack me. “I will be ready for you, old fellows,” I said aloud, as I reloaded my rifle and carefully rammed down the bullet. “If you do not interfere with me, I will let you enjoy your draught unmolested; but if you attack me, look out for the consequences—Ha! ha! ha!” My own voice struck my ear as strangely loud and wild. The effect was to make the lions decide on letting me alone; and while they went on towards the water, I scrambled down from the rock, and began to make the best of my way towards where I had left Natty.

I hurried on, though I scarcely expected to reach the hut before dark. Still I hoped that even at night I might find my way. I will not say that I was very sanguine about it, as the mirage had deceived me, and often made objects appeal very different to what they really were. The sun in a short time sunk behind me. Still, as long as I could move over the ground, I determined to persevere. I was keeping, I believed, in a direct line. At length the stars came out, and the moon rose and shed her pale light over the scene. I knew that lions and other wild beasts will seldom attack a person while the moon is shining. This encouraged me to proceed. The stars, whose brilliancy even the moon could scarcely dim, assisted me in steering my course. I own, however, that now and then I cast an anxious look over my shoulder, lest the lion and the lioness might be following me. Where the ground was open I hoped that I might be able to discover them, should they approach; but in some places it was rocky, scattered over with thick bushes, within which beasts of prey might lurk. I was somewhat heavily laden, with my water-bottle and birds. While suffering from thirst I had no inclination to eat, but now I began to feel the pangs of hunger, and my knees trembled from the exertion I had been for so long making. I therefore sat down with my back against a tree to rest, and to eat the few mouthfuls I had in my pocket. I scarcely knew till then how tired I was. Anxious as I was to get on, I yet could not help indulging in a short rest. “I shall be able to move the faster after it,” I thought to myself. Whilst thus sitting and meditating, what was my dismay to see the two lions stalk slowly up to me, while behind them appeared a vast troop of the savage dogs I had encountered on the previous night! I felt spell-bound—unable to fly, or even to move. The lions whisked their tails and ground their teeth as they uttered low savage growls, while the dogs kept barking and yelping behind them. Nearer and nearer they drew. In vain I tried to lift my rifle and have one shot for my life. No; I could not even do that. There I sat. In another moment their sharp fangs would be planted in my throat. Suddenly I gave a start. The whole panorama of savage eyes and the two central monsters disappeared, and to my infinite relief I found that I had been asleep, and that the whole was a phantom of my brain. I really think I must have slept some time, for after I had recovered from the alarm into which my dream had thrown me, I felt sufficiently strong to resume my journey. As long as the moon shone, it was far pleasanter travelling at night than in the day. Again I went on, but still I could not help acknowledging to myself that I might very likely after all not be on the right road. Still I should not gain it by hesitation, and I tried to make up my mind to be prepared for a disappointment, should I be mistaken. I was doing my best; I could do no more. At length I saw in the distance a line of dark trees, which I hoped was the wood on the borders of which our hut was situated. As I marked the outline, I stepped on with more elastic tread, thinking of the delight my reappearance would give my poor young companion. As I was thus walking on, I felt my foot sink into the earth, and before I could recover myself I fell flat on my face. I quickly sprang up, for the thought seized me that I might have stepped into the hole of some snake, and that in another instant he might be issuing out to attack me. I ran on for some paces, when I stopped and looked back, but nothing appeared. Not till then did I discover that I had sprained my ankle. It might be a slight matter under ordinary circumstances, but, in my case, if it stopped my walking it might be serious. It pained me considerably, still I found that I could walk. I went on, but soon began to limp. There was no elasticity in my step now. My great consolation was that I was near Natty, for I was sure the wood I saw was that I had left in the morning. The pain had damped my spirits, and I now began to fear that perhaps after all Natty had grown worse, or that some wild beasts had found out our hut, and managed to penetrate into the interior. I was wrong to allow these thoughts to enter my mind, I know, but under my circumstances it was but natural. At length I caught sight, under a tree, of what in the moonlight looked like a mound. It was our hut; but just then I observed several objects moving about round it, and as I drew near a loud barking and yelping saluted my ears. I rushed forward. “Those brutes of dogs have found out Natty!” I exclaimed. Even then I thought that I might be too late to save him. Shouting out in a stern, strong voice, which I had found successful before, I ordered them to depart, waving my gun with furious gestures before me. The dogs saw me, and began to retreat; but some of them, I thought, seemed to come out of the very hut itself. “Natty! Natty!” I cried out, “are you safe? Tell me! oh, tell me!”

I got no answer, but the barking and yelping might have drowned Natty’s voice. I dashed frantically forward. I could not fire without the risk of sending the ball through the hut I doubted, indeed, whether the sound of my rifle would have much effect on them. The yelping, barking pack retired as I advanced. “Natty, Natty, speak to me!” I again cried out.

My heart bounded with joy when a faint voice proceeded from within. “O Andrew! have you really come? I was afraid you must have been killed.”

“I am all safe,” I answered; “but I must drive these brutes to a distance before I come to you.”

There was a good supply of sticks. I hastily drew them together, and lighting a match, quickly had a brisk fire burning. The light and my shouts finally drove off the pack, and I now ventured to open the entrance to our hut. Natty was sitting up. He pointed to his mouth. I hastily poured out some of the water, and gave him an ample draught; and then I sank down on the ground, overcome with fatigue and the pain which my sprained ankle gave me. I recovered sufficiently, however, to exchange a few sentences with him, when he told me of the anxiety he had been suffering, and of the dread he had had that the dogs would force their way into the hut. I then briefly narrated my adventures. He seemed, I thought, somewhat better. Having secured the entrance, I lay down by his side, and, in spite of the pain I was suffering from, was soon asleep.

Chapter Nineteen.

My Adventures with Natty, continued.

A whole day had passed away. Although I husbanded our water with the greatest care, I could not expect it to last beyond a second day. Still my ankle gave me great pain, and I felt utterly unable to walk. Natty, too, was far too weak to proceed on our journey. The fever, however, had subsided, and he required less water than at first. Still, it was almost as necessary for him as food, and I did not like to stint him. Though suffering from thirst myself, aggravated by pain, I refrained from taking more than a few drops at a time. I did everything I could think of to restore strength to my limb.

“I am afraid there is only one thing, Andrew, will do it; and that is perfect rest,” observed Natty at last.

I did not like to alarm him by telling him of my anxiety about water; but as I sat on the ground with my poor sick friend by my side, darker forebodings than had ever yet assailed me oppressed my mind. It might be many days before Natty would be able to move, and if I could not go to the fountain to procure water, we must both die of thirst.

Two more days passed away, and when I lay down to sleep, scarcely a pint of water remained. I had remained perfectly quiet all day, hoping that the long rest would cure the sprain. I had made the hut so secure, I did not think it necessary to light a fire outside. On again rising, I put my foot to the ground. Oh, how thankful I felt when I found that it gave me but little pain, and that I could walk without difficulty! I told Natty that I would go back at once for water, leaving him our scanty stock, and the remainder of our birds after I had satisfied my hunger. The flesh, however, though roasted and dried, was scarcely eatable.

“Will you not let me go with you, Andrew?” he said. “I think I could walk as far, if I rested now and then.”

He male the attempt, but sank back again on the ground. I persuaded him to have patience, and to remain quiet; and closing the hut even more carefully than before, with the thickest sticks I could find, I set off on my expedition. Though at first I walked with pain, I got on better than I expected. The air was cool, for the sun was not yet above the horizon, and I hoped to get to the fountain in time to kill some birds collected there for their morning draught. The way, I trusted, would appear shorter than at night, and I believed that I well knew the direction I should take. My feet were, however, very weary, and the rocks were not yet in sight. I was weak from want of food, and soon became as thirsty as on the previous occasion. I was anxious, too, for I could not be quite certain that I was on the right way. How I longed for a beaten track which would lead me without fail to the fountain! It would have made all the difference to me. I could have endured double the fatigue had I been sure that I should arrive at the spot at last. At length I caught sight of a flight of birds winging their way over my head in the direction I was going. This gave me more confidence, and I now pushed on with greater energy. At length I saw the rocks before me, and flights of birds rising in the air, and flying off in different directions. I was afraid that I should be too late to shoot any; though I might obtain water, food would be wanting. Just as I reached the rocks, I saw a covey apparently about to take wing. I fired, and four lay on the rocks fluttering about. I rushed forward to seize them, when, to my horror, I saw my old enemies the lion and lioness just taking their departure from the water! I had already got some way up the rock. It was better to lose the birds than my life; so I stopped, faced my foes, and began loading my rifle. The brutes looked at me with astonishment, as much as to ask how I dared come into their territory again. I replied by ramming down the bullet. “If you will go your way, I will let you alone,” I shouted out; “but if not, beware of this leaden pill!” The lion seemed to understand me, and looked at the lioness; and then, perhaps considering discretion the better part of valour, began leisurely to walk away from the fountain. I shouted after them, to show them that I was not alarmed; and, greatly to my satisfaction, they at length disappeared in the distance. I secured the birds, which were unable to fly, and then eagerly hurried down to the water. I drank my fill, and sitting down, bathed my burning feet. The water seemed to give strength to my ankle. Having filled my bottle and rested a while, I felt so much better that I determined to take a swim, hoping thus entirely to recruit my strength. Never have I so much enjoyed a bath. On getting out, however, I felt so hungry that I was compelled to light a fire and cook one of the birds. I could not have proceeded on my journey without it, though anxious to get back as soon as possible to Natty. Thus thoroughly recruited, I again set off, looking about, as I went along, in the hope of finding some other animal to shoot for food. Though I saw many at a distance, I could not get sufficiently near one to have a fair shot.

It was late in the day before I got back, and when I shouted to Natty, as I drew near the hut, he answered me in a stronger voice than before. I soon had the bottle of water to his lips, a fire alight, and a partridge cooking. Enough of the day remained to allow me to search about for wild fruits and roots which might assist our meal. I could now leave him without fear; invariably, however, closing the hut when I went out. I was successful in finding some fruits such as I have before described, and returned well satisfied to the hut. Natty declared that he felt able to sit outside by the fire to take his supper. He crawled without my assistance to the entrance. After he had taken his seat, as I happened to look inside, I saw the leaves on which he had been lying moving slowly. Presently the hideous, black, swollen-looking head of a snake emerged from under the leaves, its bright eyes glaring at us. In another instant I believed that it would spring at Natty or me. Without speaking, greatly to his alarm, I threw him on one side, and then, seizing a heavy stick which lay at hand, I rushed at the creature and struck it a blow with all my force on the head. It had the effect of knocking it over; and before it could recover itself, I dealt it another blow on the tail. Poor Natty, not seeing what I was doing, thought I had gone mad, I believe. I repeated my blows, till I felt sure that the creature was dead. I now dragged it out by the tail, prepared, should it give signs of life, to renew my attack. As I brought it into the light, I saw that it was a black variety of the puff adder, which is among the most poisonous serpents of Africa. It is said that if a person is bitten by it, death ensues within an hour. To make sure, I threw the body into the fire. Not till then did Natty sufficiently recover the effects of his fall and alarm to see what had occurred, and to be aware of the fearful danger in which we had both been placed; for had the creature come out while we were sitting together in the hut, unable to defend ourselves in so narrow a space, nothing could have prevented one of us being bitten.

We sat for some time before we could begin our meal, and we did not fail to return thanks for our merciful deliverance from danger. We naturally talked about what we should have done had either of us been bitten. It was a subject which I had discussed with David on several occasions, for we had had a great fear of the bites of serpents when we first arrived in the country. However, we had hitherto met so few, that we had lost all alarm about them.

“If you had been bitten, I should have tried to cut away the flesh immediately round the wound, and sucked the blood,” Natty said to me; and from the look of affection he gave me, I was sure that he would without hesitation have made the attempt.

“I should have first tied a ligature above the wounded part, so as to prevent the venom spreading,” I observed. “Had we been with David, we might have found remedies in his medicine-chest. It is said that eau de luce is often effectual. Five drops are administered to the patient in a glass of water every ten minutes till the poison is counteracted. It is also applied externally. I have heard that Dutch farmers attempt to counteract the effects of serpents’ bites by making an incision in the breast of a living fowl, and applying it to the bitten part. If the poison is very deadly, the bird becomes drowsy, droops its head, and dies. It is then replaced by a second, and so on till the bird no longer shows signs of suffering, when the patient is considered out of danger. A frog is sometimes applied in the same way; and turtle blood, prepared by drying, when applied to the wound produced by a venomous serpent or a poisoned arrow, is supposed to be efficacious. The wounded person takes a couple of pinches of the dried blood internally, and also applies some of it to the wound. It is said also that the Brahmins in India manufacture a stone which has the virtue of counteracting the poison of serpents. They alone possess the secret, which they will not divulge. The stone is applied to the wound, to which it sticks closely without any bandage, and drinks in the poison till it can receive no more. It is then placed in milk, that it may purge itself of the poison, and is again applied to the wound, till it has drawn out the whole of the poison.”

“Yes,” observed Natty, “I remember hearing of those stories; but David said they were merely pieces of the bone of some animal, made into an oval shape, and burned round the edges. If they have any power in drawing out poison, it is in consequence of being porous; and he said he believed any substance made up of capillary tubes, such as common sponge, would be equally efficacious. After all, I believe that my remedy is the only one on which dependence can be placed, except, perhaps, the immediate application of eau de luce, and of course, when a person is bitten by a snake, in rare instances only is he able to obtain any.”

As may be supposed, we hunted about the hut thoroughly before lying down, in case any other snakes might have crawled in; and I stopped up every crevice by which I thought it possible the one I had killed could have entered.

Natty was so much better by the time our last supply of water was nearly finished, that I no longer refused to let him accompany me to the fountain, intending to proceed from thence towards our ultimate destination. Clouds had gathered in the sky, and the air was cooler than it had been for some time, as we set out. I insisted on his frequently stopping, and wished him to allow me to carry him at intervals; but to this he would not consent. We each of us had a long stick in our hands to support our steps, and I assisted him on with my arm. Our progress was, however, but slow; for in spite of his efforts, I saw that he was still very weak. Thus it was not until the sun was already sinking before us in the west that we got within sight of the fountain. We had exhausted our water, and I was anxious to get a further supply before the night closed in. Again I begged Natty to let me take him on my back, for I thought it would rest him, and enable us to get on faster. At last he consented, and though he was but a light weight for his age, reduced as he was by sickness, yet I found, after proceeding a couple of hundred yards or so, that I was myself beginning to get fatigued. Perhaps he discovered this, by finding the slower pace at which I was going, and he insisted on again getting down, declaring that he was much rested by the ride. Giving him my arm, therefore, we again pushed on. The dark rocks which surrounded the fountain now rose up clearly before us. I looked round carefully, but could see no trace of the lions. We reached the spot, and soon I had the satisfaction of seeing Natty swallowing an ample draught of water. I then took some myself, and filled our bottle. I felt a longing to take another swim, but afraid that the lions might come upon us while I was in the water, I refrained. I was fortunate in killing five more birds, out of a covey which rose just as we sat down by the water’s brink.

Having rested for some time by the side of the pond, we continued our journey. We saw herds of animals in the distance—gemsboks, steinboks, gnus, and cameleopards—but they were too far off to enable me to get a shot at any of them. We stopped frequently, for Natty was unable to proceed without doing so. Thus the day had come nearly to a close before we had made much progress. I was looking out anxiously for some spot where we might camp for the night, when I saw on our right what appeared to be the fallen trunk of some giant of a former forest, for no other trees were near it.

“I dare say we may there find shelter,” I observed, pointing it out to Natty.

“But see!” he said, “there are some animals moving about round it.”

As we got nearer, I saw several heads rising among the roots and fallen branches. They appeared to me to be hyenas, or hyena-dogs, similar to the pack which had visited us. They, however, with their ears pricked forward, were so eager in watching some object on the opposite side of them that they did not perceive us. We were thus able to move on without being discovered. Presently we perceived what had occupied their attention; for the leaders of a herd of buffaloes appeared in sight, going along a shallow valley on the other side of the fallen tree. Even at that distance we could hear the hollow sound of their feet as they dashed over the ground. On they went with their heads lowered, and tails in the air, faster and faster, a regular stampedo. What had caused their flight we could not ascertain. Whether it was alarm at some danger behind them, or whether they were driven by an impulse which sometimes makes the bovine race dash headlong over the ground without any apparent cause, we could not tell.

“One thing I am very thankful for,” observed Natty,—“that we are not in their way, or we should have but a poor chance of escaping them. Perhaps the dogs expect one of them to fall, and are looking out for a feast.”

“At all events, we must take care not to allow ourselves to be attacked instead of them,” I observed. “I am far from certain indeed that they are dogs. They appear to me larger, and rather more like hyenas. I suspect that they are spotted hyenas, which are among the fiercest of the race; and though I believe they seldom attack a man on his guard, I do not know what they might do if they found us asleep. They are said to have an especial liking for human flesh, and I know that in some parts where they are numerous, they frequently carry off the children from villages. I have heard it said that they will even steal noiselessly into a hut at night, and drag a sleeping child from under its mother’s kaross or rug, so that the first intimation she has of what has occurred is from the cry of her infant as it is borne away in the jaws of the monster. They will sometimes break into villages, leaping over high palings; and so great is their strength, that they will carry off any animal they find loose. In one respect, however, they are of use, as they act as scavengers, and clear the neighbourhood of villages of the carrion which they find scattered about. This makes it necessary to protect graves, by raising over them piles of thorns, or of the prickly-pear, as they will otherwise scrape away the earth to reach the newly-interred corpse.”

“Horrid creatures!” said Natty, shuddering. “I do not think I could go to sleep if I thought that any were likely to pay us a visit.”

“I do not know that they would be more formidable than the dogs we have already encountered,” I remarked. “Indeed, I believe these dogs are their cousins, if not their brethren; for though complete dogs, as to the character of their skulls and teeth, they have, like the hyenas, only four toes on the front feet. However, I hope we may be able to take precautions which will guard us from any annoyance those brutes out there are likely to offer, should they be hyenas or simply hyena-dogs, such as the visitors to our late camp. There is a wood, I see, on the left; we must try and push through it, and build our house on the other side.”

On went the herd of buffaloes, and were soon lost to sight across the plain. As we went on, I looked back every now and then to see if the hyenas were following us; but though I fancied that their heads were turned in our direction, they perhaps could not make out what we were, and at all events remained in their fortress. I should have preferred, however, being further off from them at night. While preparing our camp, the sky gave indications, I feared, of a coming storm. I therefore made the roof of our hut thicker than usual, in the hope of keeping out the water should the rain come down. In spite of my fears, neither did the storm break, nor did we receive a visit during the night from our canine neighbours. Natty was greatly fatigued by his long journey; and from the way he talked in his sleep, I was afraid that the fever had again returned on him. This made me resolve, should he not be better in the morning, to remain there another day. My worst apprehensions were fulfilled. But still it was satisfactory to be near the water, so that I might obtain as much as we required.

We remained two whole days. Though we several times heard the roars of the lions, I did not see them. Each day I made a trip to the pool, and took a refreshing bath, which greatly restored my strength. Natty declared that he was now ready to proceed. Having obtained in the evening some more birds from my preserve, as I called it, we went on in the morning in the same direction as before. Natty, however, was still very weak, and I saw that the next day we should make but little progress. We were now again in a completely open plain, the only trees being far away in the horizon, though the mountains rose up in the north-west, towards which we were proceeding. The signs of a storm again appeared, and I was afraid that it would break upon us where no shelter could be obtained. Push on therefore we must, as long as Natty could continue moving. I gave him a lift every now and then, very much against his will; indeed, it was only by persuading him that we could thus get on faster, that he would allow me to carry him. Soon the wind began to blow in fitful gusts, and heavy drops of rain fell. I constantly looked behind me, dreading every instant that the deluge would burst upon us. “It will kill poor Natty, I fear,” I could not help saying to myself. Presently the rain began to descend more heavily, and clouds collected, and flashes of lightning darting from them went zigzagging over the ground. Just then I caught sight in the distance of what looked like a low clump of trees. I directed our course towards it, taking Natty up and running along as fast as I could move. Although I well knew that it is dangerous to take shelter in a thunderstorm under a tree, I hoped to be able to obtain wood and leaves to build a hut by which Natty, at all events, might be partly sheltered. I saw, as I got nearer, that the grove consisted chiefly of one enormous tree, from the branches of which descended numerous slight stalks, apparently supporting them as they spread out on every side over the ground. I now recognised a magnificent specimen of the baobab-tree, of immense girth, and with numerous branches and almost countless offshoots. On one side was a Guinea-palm, its graceful fan-like branches rising from a centre stalk—a mere liliputian plant it looked in comparison to its lofty neighbour. On the other side was an acacia, the size of an ordinary oak, though a little way off I took it for a diminutive shrub. A very few other trees only were scattered about. Getting still nearer, I observed a hollow in the trunk of the baobab-tree—a wooden cavern, capable of containing a dozen or more persons. Remembering to have heard that the baobab does not attract lightning, I made my way towards it, resolving to take shelter within. I hurried to the mouth, and looking in, was thankful to find that it contained no inhabitants. Here, at all events, we might rest secure from the storm.

Putting Natty down, I examined the interior to see that no snakes lurked in the crevices of the wood. I could discover none: so I cleared out a spot where Natty could rest more at ease; and as the wood and leaves under the tree were still dry, I collected a sufficient supply of both—one to form our couch, and the other for our fire. The rain had begun to pour down in torrents outside, but within the trunk we were completely sheltered. As there was ample room to light a fire inside, I soon had one, and some of our birds roasting before it. Natty agreed that we were better lodged than we had been since we left home. There we sat watching the storm, which howled and raged outside. The rain came down literally in a deluge.

The tree in which we had taken shelter was evidently of great age. I have since heard that some people suppose that the patriarchs of these trees may have been alive before the Flood. The natives cut off and pound the bark, from which they thus obtain the fibres for making a strong and fine cord. Although the bark of many of the trees near their villages is completely torn off in a way that would destroy any other tree, the baobab does not suffer, but throws out a new bark as often as the old one is cut off. Trees are either exogenous—that is to say, grow by means of successive layers on the outside; or they endogenous—which means that they are increased by layers in the inside. Thus, in the latter, when the hollow is full the growth is stopped, and the tree dies. The first class suffers most severely by any injury affecting the bark; the second, by an injury in the inside. Now the baobab, from possessing all these qualities, may have the bark torn off, and may be completely hollow, and yet continue to flourish. The cause of this is, that each of the lamina possesses a vitality of its own, the sap rising through every part of it. I had seen some trees, from which the natives had so often stripped the bark that the lower part was two or three inches in diameter less than the higher portion which they could not reach. The wood was of a particularly spongy and soft nature; and I was able to cut off enough with my knife to assist in keeping our fire burning.

The storm still continued raging without, the wind howling among the branches above our heads, although we sat secure as in a mansion of granite. I was not free, however, from anxiety; for it occurred to me that I might be mistaken as to the tree we were in not attracting the lightning, and that the account I had heard about it might be incorrect. I did not, however, express my misgivings to Natty. He, poor lad, looked very pale and ill, and I regretted having allowed him to walk so far; indeed, I felt it would have been better to have remained at our former abode a couple of days more, or even longer, although it might have made one or more journeys to the fountain necessary. I determined, therefore, to secure the entrance, and make the inside of the tree as comfortable as I could for him, and to remain there till he was better able to proceed.

The rain continued to come down in torrents; the thunder roared, and the lightning flashed vividly. I was afraid that the fine weather was breaking up, and that the rainy season was about to begin. This would make travelling more difficult than before, and give Natty less chance of recovery. I made up my mind, however, to be resigned to whatever might occur, and to do my best. Courageous as Natty generally was, he at length became alarmed at the loud roaring of the thunder, and the fearful crashing sound which ever and anon reached our ears as the electric fluid, darting from the clouds, came zigzagging through the air, and snake-like darted over the ground, sometimes, it seemed, within a few yards of the tree. I did my best to reassure him, and was thankful that it was daylight, for the storm would have appeared even more terrific at night.

Although there were no large inhabitants in our woody cavern, I discovered several insects. The ground inside it was covered with earth, and almost level. I observed a large reddish spider running in and out with wonderful rapidity among the uneven parts of the wood. Now it darted out on a small insect, and quickly devoured it; immediately setting forth again in search of another, which it pounced upon in the same energetic way. I had seldom seen so large and hideous-looking a spider, and felt a horror lest it should come near us. It moved so quickly that I in vain attempted to reach it. Presently I saw it run along the ground, when it entered a small hole which I had not before observed. Though I had exactly marked the spot, I in vain searched for it. After a time I saw the earth lifting, and out came the spider again. I sprang down to the spot, and there I found a small circular substance, of a pure, silky white, like paper, about the size of a shilling. On touching it, I discovered that it was a regular trap-door with a hinge, and, on turning it down, that the outside was coated with earth, so exactly like that in which the hole was made, that when shut it was impossible to discover it. I observed inside a substance which I took to be eggs; and I had little doubt, therefore, that this was the nest of the spider I had seen. I pointed it out to Natty, who was, however, too weak to feel inclined to rise and examine it; and when I again looked, I could nowhere discover the hole, and the spider had disappeared. I could not help having an uncomfortable feeling that the creature might come out again and attack us. But I may as well say here that it did not do so; and on making inquiries since, I found that though people are often frightened at its appearance, it has never been known to do any harm. There is another spider which builds a regular nest with a lid, and attaches it to a wall or the branch of a tree. Whether it is of the same species as the one I have described or not, I am uncertain. There are spiders in Africa which are said to inflict poisonous wounds. One is a very large, black, hairy creature, fully an inch and a quarter long, and three-quarters of an inch broad. It has a process at the end of its front claws like that of a scorpion’s tail, out of which poison, when it is pressed, is seen to ooze. I have also observed another spider, which can leap a distance of several inches on its prey. When alarmed by my approach, I have seen one spring nearly a foot away.

The thunder, which had for some time been roaring louder and louder, at length gradually began to grow less frequent and more faint, and by degrees rolled further and further away, though its mutterings were still heard in the distance. The rain ceased, and the bright rays of the western sun penetrated beneath the wide-spreading branches of our baobab-tree. The change raised my spirits, and the air already felt cooler and more refreshing.

Chapter Twenty.

Our Residence in a Baobab-Tree.

The bright rays of the sun, which streamed into the hollow tree, had a good effect upon Natty; and feeling that I could leave him, I proposed cutting some stakes with which to secure ourselves during the night from the attacks which wandering beasts of prey might be inclined to make on us. Taking my hatchet, I accordingly went out and set to work. I easily cut a sufficient number of stakes for the purpose from the branches of the neighbouring trees. I should have been better off with a good supply of nails; but as they were wanting, I had to do without them. Pointing the stakes, I drove them into the ground just inside the mouth of the hollow, placing other pieces crossways, and jamming them as I best could into the sides of the entrance. I left only a small hole, through which I could just creep in and out. I made the grating so high that I hoped no panther or lion could leap over it. I had gone to the outer edge of the grove to get some firewood, and was returning by a path through which I had not yet passed, it being already dusk, when suddenly I found my face covered with what I can only describe as a long veil; while just at my nose I saw a horrid monster, of a bright yellow colour, with long legs and claws, struggling violently, and in its fright I thought it would scratch out my eyes. I rushed forward, throwing down my load, and dashing into our cavern, entreated Natty to relieve me from my fearful tormentor. Even he, ill as he was, could scarcely help laughing at my alarmed countenance. The spider—for such the creature was—was as much frightened as I was, and crawled away in a great hurry before we could kill him, the instant Natty had assisted me in tearing off part of its web. It took some time to clear my face of the remainder, and several minutes passed before I could entirely recover my equanimity. I had seen such webs before, but had never run tilt against them. This was suspended between two of the stalks of the baobab-tree, in a perpendicular position, by lines the thickness of coarse thread. The fibres of which it was composed radiated from a central point, where the creature was lying in wait for its prey, when it found the tip of my nose instead of an unwary moth or butterfly. The web was about a yard in diameter, so that it completely enveloped my face and head. Though very disagreeable to me, the occurrence, I really believe, did Natty good. It was pleasant to hear even a faint shout of laughter from him.

The spider I have mentioned is a solitary individual: but I have seen others which live in society; and industrious creatures they are, too, for their webs frequently cover the entire trunk of a tree, so as literally to conceal it from view. I have seen a bush in the same way completely covered up, as if a table-cloth had been thrown over it.

I was thankful we had so secure a house, for I saw that Natty could not possibly proceed for some time. I therefore made up my mind to remain where we were till he was better, even though it might involve the delay of a whole week. My chief anxiety arose from the small amount of ammunition I now possessed. Should that fail me, I could not tell how I might obtain food. Water I had in abundance; that was one comfort. The immediate neighbourhood of the baobab-tree afforded neither roots nor fruits; so even as it was I must visit the fountain, or go to a yet further distance, to obtain food. Notwithstanding the interruption I have described, I had time to collect some leaves for Natty’s bed, and a supply of firewood, in case I might find it necessary to light a fire.

Several times during the night the distant roars of lions and other wild beasts reached my ears; but as none were near, I went to sleep without any unusual feeling of anxiety. In the morning, however, I found the marks of a lion’s feet in the soil, made soft by the rain, just outside the tree. Probably he had come up to our sleeping-place; but, finding the entrance barred against him, had not attempted to make his way in. I was thankful that I had guarded it securely.

I am obliged to make a long story short. Three days passed by, during which there was a storm and a fall of rain. I went to the fountain for water, and shot more birds, and made expeditions in the neighbourhood of the grove; but Natty continued so weak that I did not like to leave him for any length of time by himself. I was one day attracted by a mound a little way off, which I suspected to be an ant-hill. On approaching it, I found that such was the case; but it was ornamented in such a way as I had never seen one of those curious nests adorned before. It was covered with enormous mushrooms. They were perfectly white, their tops nearly eighteen inches in diameter. They looked very tempting; and on examining them, I found that they were genuine mushrooms. I ate a piece, which was very palatable, and I accordingly slung several over my back to carry home: they would, I hoped, prove useful to eat with our roasted partridges. Not far off was another ant-hill, and on this were growing a number of other mushrooms. Some were of a brilliant red, and others of a dull light blue. I examined them; but from their consistency and general appearance, I was afraid of eating them lest they might prove poisonous, for such I knew is the character ordinarily of coloured fungi. I carried a couple home, however, to show to Natty; but he agreed with me that it would be unwise to eat them.

Another day, when further from home than usual, I saw before me a lagoon, in which water-plants were already rising up. I was convinced, however, that it had only been filled by the late rains. From its appearance, it was probably not more than a few inches deep in any part. As I passed by I observed some odd-looking black lumps on the top of some tall stalks of grass, which rose above the level of the surrounding edges. I was tempted by curiosity to examine one of them. It was about the size of my thumb; and as I held it it broke, when what was my surprise to see emerge from it a whole army of ants, which began to attack me furiously! I brushed them quickly off, though their bite was not particularly severe. On examining others of the black lumps, I found them inhabited in the same way; and I now came to the conclusion that the ants which had their usual abodes in the dry season underground on the spot, taught by experience that at a certain season it would be covered by water, built these aerial abodes in order to secure for themselves a refuge as soon as the waters should flood the ground around them. Many of these houses were as large as I have described, but others were considerably smaller, though all built of the same material and in the same firm manner. Taking up one by the stalk, I carried it home to show to Natty. He declared that he thought some of our black friends would swallow them, if baked, as a delicious mouthful. I carried it out again, and stuck the stalk in the ground, when I saw the inhabitants crawling down, evidently under the belief that the waters had subsided, and that they might now descend into their subterranean habitation.

I need scarcely say that I looked out anxiously all the day in the hope that Stanley or some of our other friends might pass in that direction on a hunting expedition. Natty asked how it was they had not come to look for us. I accounted for it from their naturally supposing that if we had not lost our lives, we were detained somewhere on the lake, and that they would therefore search for us there.

Natty grew no worse, but still he did not appear to gain strength. Often he urged me to set off without him; but to this I would not consent. The journey might occupy me two or even three days, and it would take as long a time to return to him. “No,” I replied; “until you are well enough to move, I will stay by you.” I thought that if I could but procure some variety of food, he might improve faster; but I had now only five or six charges of powder left, and I was anxious to preserve these for any emergency. One of my fears was, that from so frequently shooting the birds in the neighbourhood of the pool, they might grow wary of me. However, they did not appear to be more alarmed when I came near them than at first. Sometimes I went in the evening, sometimes in the morning, and never failed to bring down three or four birds. I think that I must have frightened away the lions, for I never saw them again, though I heard their roars in the distance. I suspect that they waited to visit the pool till they saw me take my departure.

I was one day about half a mile from the baobab-tree, when I saw, perched on a bush near me, a little bird about the size of a chaffinch, of a light grey colour. It seemed in no way afraid of me, but continued chattering and twittering in a state of great excitement. Then it got up and flew backwards and forwards before me, apparently endeavouring to attract my attention. As I approached it flew on a little in front. I followed it. On seeing this, it went on and on in a wavy course, a few yards before me, alighting every now and then on a bush, and looking back to see if I was still following, all the time keeping up an incessant twitter. Though I had no idea at the time of its object, I continued following it. At length I saw a short distance ahead the huge trunk of a fallen tree. The bird appeared still more excited; and when I happened to turn aside, apparently to take an opposite direction, it came flying back, and twittering louder than before, trying, I was sure, to make me turn in the direction of the tree. I accordingly did so, when, satisfied, the bird went on as before. It now hovered for a moment over a part of the trunk at which it pointed with its bill, and it then turned and pitched on the top of a decayed branch which rose in the air out of the trunk, and fluttered its wings and twittered still more violently than ever. There it sat while I examined the trunk. I was not long in discovering a hollow surrounded by wax, and the idea at once occurred to me that this was a bees’ nest, and that the bird was the honey-bird of which I had heard. On a further examination I was convinced that I was right. I therefore collected a number of dried leaves and twigs, in order to light a fire, and with the smoke to drive the bees from their habitation. I also manufactured some torches, which might assist me in the operation, and would, I hoped, enable me to defend myself should the bees take to flight and attack me. As soon as I had got everything ready, I lighted a fire under the nest, and taking a torch, waved it about in front of it. No bees came out, and I began to fancy that the nest must be empty. After a time, however, on looking in, I found that the effect of the smoke had been to stupify the bees. I therefore, without fear, began to cut out the nest. It consisted of cells of wax full of honey. The difficulty was to carry it. However, as the wax was tolerably hard, I tied it up in a large handkerchief I fortunately had in my pocket, in which I hoped at all events to be able to carry home a good quantity of honey for poor Natty, trusting that it would be beneficial to his health. While employed in putting it up, I observed the honey-bird fluttering about in a state of great agitation close to me. “Oh, I almost forgot you,” I said, turning to the bird. “You deserve some honey;” and accordingly, taking some from the nest, I placed it on the trunk of the fallen tree. Instantly the bird dashed down, and began eating it with evident delight. As soon as he had finished the portion I had bestowed on him, he rose and began fluttering about as before in front of me. I whistled to him, to try and induce him to come with me, but I have since heard that whistling encourages the bird, and makes him more eager to go off in search of another nest. “As you will not come with me, I must go and see what you want now,” I said to the bird, following the way he led. In vain I whistled. On he went in a wavy course, as before, directly in front of me. I rather doubted, however, should he lead me to another honeycomb, whether I could carry it. Still, I did not like to miss the opportunity of obtaining what might prove so valuable. I therefore went on in the direction the honey-bird led. I could not help thinking of tales I had read in my boyhood of kind fairies or good spirits leading travellers who had lost their way to some enchanted castle, where a comfortable couch and an ample banquet was prepared for them. Perhaps the honey-bird may have been the origin of such tales. Sometimes, indeed, an evil fairy has appeared, and beguiled thoughtless travellers to their destruction. After the conduct of my honey-bird I had no doubt about his good intentions. I had gone on for twenty minutes or more, when the bird pitched on the bough of another decayed tree still standing upright. Seeing me approach, it began fluttering about, and pointing its beak towards a hole some way above my head. “I should have thought you might have known I could not reach that,” I said, looking up at him. “However, I will do my best to accomplish the feat.” The quickest way, I thought, would be to build a platform on which to stand whilst cutting out the honey. I accordingly chopped down some stout poles and drove them into the earth, securing cross-pieces with vines to the trunk. I thus formed an erection similar to a builder’s scaffolding, and now climbing to the top, I made another small platform directly under the entrance to the nest. I then proceeded as before, by burning leaves and twigs, and having thoroughly smoked the unfortunate bees, took possession of their habitation and store of food. With this further supply I descended, and having given the honey-bird a share, put the remainder into the handkerchief. I had to make it more capacious, by fastening a number of vines round it, so as to form a sort of basket. “Well, Master Honey-bird, if you will lead me to another nest, I think I could manage to carry it in this fashion,” I said to my little conductor, who seemed to understand me, and off he flew as merrily as before. This time he did not appear quite so steady in his course. Suddenly he made his way towards a small wood which I saw in the distance. I followed him, and every now and then he stopped and looked back to see if I was coming. It was a tiring walk, for the sun struck down with unusual heat after the rain, and I began to think that I should have acted more wisely had I returned at once with my sweet stores. Still, I did not wish to disappoint the honey-bird, as I was in hopes he would on another day be on the look-out for me, and help me to get a further quantity when we might need it.

At last the wood was reached, when, making his way into it, I saw him pitch on a bough as before; but the trees were small, and I could see none round likely to contain a cavity in which bees would have formed a nest. Still, I thought I would examine the spot, supposing that perhaps some decayed trunk of a fallen tree might lie beneath. I was advancing rapidly, when, to my horror, I saw before me a pair of glaring eyes, and there stood within the thicket an enormous lion with a huge mane. The king of beasts had just aroused himself apparently from his noonday rest, and was stretching himself, wondering who the bold intruder could be who had ventured into his domains. I gazed at the lion, and the lion gazed at me. I know I did not like the appearance of the monstrous brute. My rifle was loaded with ball, but still I dreaded lest, should I fire and not kill him outright, he might yet attack me. I therefore, keeping my face towards him, slowly retired, hoping earnestly that he would go to sleep again, and allow me to retreat unmolested. Still, from his attitude, I had some doubts whether or not he was going to spring at me. I dared not take my eye off him, for I knew that my best prospect of escaping was to continue facing him boldly. I suspect that he had gone into the wood to indulge in a nap, after having taken a full meal off some unfortunate gnu or antelope. I was very thankful when I at length managed to get to the edge of the wood without stumbling. I continued to retreat backwards, however, after this, fearing lest the lion might pounce out upon me. Every moment I expected to see his enormous head and shaggy mane appear amid the bushes. It would have been a very grand sight, but a very disagreeable one. As I retreated through the wood the treacherous honey-bird flew out also, twittering as before, just as if he had not played me a scurvy trick. “What, do you not like the last honeycomb I showed you?” he seemed to say. I began to think that he was an evil spirit instead of a kind fairy; but yet, perhaps, after all, he was as much astonished at finding a lion instead of a honeycomb as I was. At all events, he appeared regardless of the danger into which he had led me, and not aware that I might have shot him dead in a moment. I could not at the time account for the trick he had played me; but I have since heard that such is not at all an uncommon occurrence, and that honey-birds frequently take the natives who are in pursuit of honey in the same way up to some savage monster.

Having got to a considerable distance from the wood, I ventured to turn round and walk forwards, at the same time very frequently casting anxious glances over my shoulder to ascertain whether the lion was coming in pursuit of me. In vain the honey-bird tried to draw me off on one side. I declined after this accompanying my little friend any further.

I had taken the bearings of the baobab-tree grove, so that I could easily find it. When at length I reached it Natty was in a state of great agitation at my long absence, but was delighted with the delicious honey I had brought him.

“Perhaps the honey-birds want to have the wild beasts killed, and are not aware that when people are only in search of honey they are not prepared to encounter a lion or a rhinoceros,” he remarked, when I described my adventure.

He might have been incredulous about my account, but I showed him the honey-bird, which had perched on a branch near us; and, as soon as I took out the honey, down it came and ate some of it with the greatest confidence. I then felt convinced, from his unsuspicious behaviour, that he had had no intention of leading me into danger.

We immediately ate some of the honey spread on the mushrooms. I wished that I could find some means of stewing those curious productions of nature, for they would he, I was sure, a valuable addition to our fare. Poor Natty still continued very weak. I did my best to forage for him, but, in spite of my exertions, the only food I could procure was not satisfactory for a sick person. As to leaving him, the more I thought of it the more dangerous for him did it appear. Even were there nothing to apprehend from the attacks of wild beasts, he was too weak to obtain even water for himself, and we had no means of preserving the food I obtained for any length of time. I should not have cared so much for myself, but I felt all the time how alarmed our friends would be on our account, besides which I felt very anxious to go in search of Leo and his companion. We had reason to be thankful that we were in so sheltered a spot, as for several days in succession violent storms burst over us, heavy downfalls of rain flooding the lower ground in our neighbourhood.

My honey-bird led me in the interval to more bees’ nests, and I got an ample supply of mushrooms; but they, as may be supposed, were not sufficient to support life. The birds, getting an abundance of water elsewhere, no longer visited the pool, and I became greatly afraid of starving.

One day I had gone to the ant-hill in search of mushrooms, when I saw a troop of gnus coming across the plain. As they advanced towards me I remained stationary, hiding myself from them by the hill. I got my rifle ready to fire, earnestly hoping that my aim would be steady. On came the herd, frisking and prancing, till they got within thirty yards of where I lay concealed. They scented danger, I fancied, for they began to look about, and seemed ready to dart off in an opposite direction. I selected the nearest, and fired. I could scarcely say how delighted I was when over rolled the creature. He got up, however, and even then would, I was afraid, escape me. I dashed forward, and drawing my axe, struck him on one of the hind-legs. Down he fell, and in another instant I had deprived him of life. I now understood the feelings of a famished hunter. Without a moment’s delay I began to cut up the animal, and loaded myself with as much of the best parts of the meat as I could carry. The remainder I left for the birds and beasts of prey, and hurried back with my prize to Natty. I selected as much as I thought we could consume while it remained eatable. The rest I cut into thin strips, and hung them up to the boughs outside our cavern. Natty meantime made up a fire, with which we roasted a good portion. I felt no longer surprised at the way I had seen the blacks feed, so ravenous did the smell of the roasted meat make me.

“Don’t you think that if we were to smoke some flesh it would keep longer?” observed Natty.

I followed his suggestion, and from the way it dried I was in hopes that the experiment would be successful. I was about to return for the remainder of the meat, to dry it in this way, when the rein came down.

Notwithstanding the more substantial food Natty had now got, he was still too weak to walk any distance. The flesh of the gnu, with the honey and mushrooms, enabled us to subsist in tolerable plenty for a week. The portions I had smoked and dried, at the end of that time became almost uneatable, and I saw that I must succeed in killing another animal, or that we should starve. That night I was awaked from sleep by hearing a low cry of distress. The dreadful thought seized me that a hyena had come into our cavern and carried off Natty. I anxiously put out my hands, and to my relief found that he was on his bed, breathing quietly. Then I thought that he must have cried out in his sleep. But again that low wail of distress reached my ears. It is some human being, I thought to myself, attacked by wild beasts, or fallen into a lagoon; indeed, it sounded exactly like the cry of a person in danger of drowning. Perhaps it may be one of our friends come in search of us. Again it came through the night air. I could bear it no longer, for I was certain that a fellow-creature was in danger. I awoke Natty. “Do not be alarmed,” I said; “I hear some one calling for help. I must go out and see what I can do, but I will be back presently. Remain quiet till my return!” Seizing my rifle, and feeling the lock to ascertain that it was all right, I hurried out in the direction from whence the sounds came. Again that plaintive cry reached my ear. I thought I heard the very words,—“Come, come! Help, help!” I dashed forward, for I knew the ground thoroughly. It could not be a person drowning, for there was no lagoon in that direction. As I advanced the wails became lower and lower, and sobs alone reached me. I was afraid that I was too late to render help. Presently, bending down, to be more certain of the direction I should take, I saw against the dark sky the outline of a lion. His claws were on his prey, and his tail was moving round. “He has killed the man, I fear,” I thought. Still, regardless of the danger I was running, and urged by an impulse I could not resist, I rushed forward, ready to fire should the lion advance towards me. I shouted at the top of my voice. I went on till I was within a dozen yards of the brute, and then once more raised a loud and determined shout. As I did so he turned his head, and then uttering a loud growl, slowly stalked away, and disappeared behind some bushes at a little distance. I hurried to the spot he had quitted, but instead of a human being, I saw before me an animal stretched lifeless on the ground. On feeling the head, I discovered that it had no horns, and then, taking one of the hoofs in my hand, I found that it was either a zebra or quagga. To leave it there would be to ensure its being carried off by its destroyer. I therefore set to work as well as I could in the dark, and cut off the flesh, looking up cautiously every minute, as may be supposed, to ascertain whether the lion was coming back to reclaim his prey. The necessity of obtaining food only could have induced me to run so terrible a risk, for I could scarcely suppose that the monarch of the woods would allow me thus before his face to carry off his prize. He did not appear, however. I supposed that, never having before encountered a human being, he was more alarmed by my appearance than I had been by his. Perhaps he took me for a gorilla, which the lion is said to hold in wholesome fear.

I now hastened back to Natty. The lion must have returned and carried off the portions I left him, for the next morning not a particle of the zebra could I discover. Still, it was not pleasant to know that he was in our neighbourhood. I treated the flesh of the zebra as I had done that of the gnu, although it was not quite so palatable.

The following day we were seated at our dinner, when, looking out, I saw a troop of zebras trotting by, stopping occasionally to feed, and then again moving on. I remarked especially a young zebra following them at a short distance. They passed close to the thicket in which I had seen the lion disappear. “If the old fellow is there,” I observed to Natty, “I should not be surprised were he to rush out and seize one of them.” Scarcely had I spoken when the whole herd began frisking about, and scampering here and there. Just then I heard a loud roar, and, as I had been surmising might possibly occur, out dashed a grey old lion towards the little zebra. I had instinctively seized my rifle. “You shall not kill that pretty little beast if I can help it,” I exclaimed. But the lion seemed determined that he would do so in spite of me. In another instant he was up to the zebra, and had struck him with one of his paws, which threw it staggering some paces from me. He was evidently, I saw, an old fellow, unable to leap as a young lion does. I ran forward, and before he had again come up with the little zebra, I had levelled my rifle and fired. The ball hit him in the head, and over he rolled. Greatly to my astonishment, the little zebra, instead of attempting to escape, rose to his feet, and, looking at me for a moment, came trotting towards me. “I am sure I know you,” I exclaimed. “You are Bella’s little pet.” The poor little creature was very much hurt, but not, I hoped, maimed altogether. From the way he came up to me, I had not the slightest doubt that my conjecture was right; for when I held out my hand, he put his nose into it, and seemed to recognise me as a friend. He looked very thin, but as I examined him I was sure that he was an old acquaintance. The lion, meantime, giving a few struggles, fell over perfectly dead. Putting my handkerchief round the zebra’s neck, I led him up to our tree. Great was Natty’s delight at seeing him.

“O Andrew,” he exclaimed, “now there is a way for us to rejoin our friends. Though you cannot carry me so far, Zebra, I am sure, can; and as soon as he is well, we will set out.”

As there was ample room for the little animal inside our cavern, I brought him in, and closed the entrance. Having washed his side, I bound it up with a handkerchief, when the bleeding stopped. The rain had brought up an abundance of grass. I went out and cut some, which he readily ate out of my hand. Having done this, I went back to examine the lion. I found the mane thickly streaked with grey; and on examining his huge mouth, I discovered that the teeth were completely worn away, while his claws were broken and blunted. This accounted for the escape of the little zebra I had heard that when lions in their old age can no longer kill the prey to which they have been accustomed, they lie in wait for the young of animals, or take to robbing the poultry-yards of the natives, attacking their goats, and sometimes, indeed, try to carry off women and children. It was the consciousness, probably, of his weakness which made the old fellow so easily render up his prey to me on a former occasion. In spite of his age and probable toughness, I was tempted to see if I could get any steaks out of him, to form a supply of food should our stock of meat not be sufficient to last us till we could get home. I cut off a few pounds; but the smell of the flesh at last made me desist, thinking that neither Natty nor I would be able to eat it, either smoked or dried. I had thrown it down, indeed, but still I thought it might be wiser to secure some; so I took up what I had cut off, and returned with it to the tree. Without telling Natty, I lighted a fire, and cutting it into strips, hung it up to the branches, so that it might be thickly enveloped in smoke. By giving the little zebra plenty of grass, in three or four days he had entirely recovered from his injury. Natty also said that he felt better, and was sure he could undertake the journey homeward.

Chapter Twenty One.

Anxiety about our Friends—A Search for Leo.

On a bright morning, as soon as we had breakfasted, I mounted Natty on the zebra’s back, and leading him with my handkerchief, set off in the direction of our home. I had manufactured some baskets, in which I stowed the honeycombs and the remaining portion of our meat, with several large white mushrooms. I hoped we might find provisions on our way; at the same time, as I had only three or four charges of powder left, I did not think it wise to abandon what we possessed. The little zebra bore Natty very willingly, but, unaccustomed to the burden on its back, could only proceed at a slower pace than I could have walked. However, I was very thankful to have this means of conveyance for my young friend. The sun came down with great heat, and I began to fear he would suffer from it. Accordingly I steered a course towards a clump of trees, where he might rest under the shade. I placed him on the ground, and told him to hold the zebra, which, I was afraid, might, following the wild instincts of its nature, scamper off. I then cut a stick and several boughs with large leaves, with which I manufactured a parasol to shelter him as we walked along. He was very grateful for the shade, and begged that I would make it sufficiently large to shelter my head also. This I accordingly did. I should have said that I had doubled up my jacket and placed it on the zebra’s back for a saddle. I made also, out of some vines, a pair of stirrups, which enabled Natty to ride more at ease.

Having taken some dinner, we again pushed on. I was greatly disappointed when, as the evening began to close in, I found that we were still at a considerable distance from the hill which we were anxious to reach. Just as I had finished our hut, it occurred to me that should we leave the zebra tethered outside, it might very likely attract either lions or hyenas, or other wild beasts of prey. I accordingly cut down a large number of stakes, with which I formed an enclosure by the side of the hut. I covered it also with a tolerably strong roof, lest any animal might leap over the walls. The little creature had, I suspect, learned so severe a lesson during his wanderings with his kindred, that he seemed fully to understand the necessity for these arrangements. At all events, when I led him in he was perfectly quiet and contented, especially when I gave him as much grass as he could require. I also made up a large fire outside our hut, and although I did not attempt to keep awake all the night, I was able to rouse myself from time to time to throw on enough wood to keep it alive. Although I heard the sounds of animals in the distance, the fire prevented them from making an attack on us.

The next morning we again started. Natty looked somewhat better; but when, in order to relieve the little zebra, he got off and attempted to walk, he was unable to proceed many paces, and made no objection when I again put him on the animal’s back.

Our pet was tamed entirely by gentleness and kindness, or it would have remained as wild and savage as its fellows. I believe there are no animals which cannot be made subject to man, provided they are treated in the right way. I have often wished that our horses and asses in England were treated more gently. I am sure they would be more faithful and useful animals than they often prove when subjected to a contrary system.

As we proceeded, we began to recognise more clearly the outline of the hills on which we had so long lived. Still, however, we were at a considerable distance, and I soon saw that, at the slow rate we were proceeding, another day must elapse before we could reach them. The arrangements of the previous night were repeated with similar success. We now hoped to reach our destination early in the afternoon. Once more the lake appeared in sight, the stream running into it, the woods on the other side, and the well-known hill, though we were much too far off to distinguish our village. The little zebra seemed to know it also, for he hastened his pace. We were anticipating the delight our reappearance would give our friends, though then the thought came across us of the disappointment they would feel at not seeing Leo. “But perhaps,” said Natty, “they have gone in search of him, and discovered him and brought him back, and we shall find him all well; oh, how joyful that will be!” As we reached the hill I could not resist the temptation of firing off my rifle, to attract the attention of our friends, and give them notice of our coming. No one, however, appeared; still I was sure they must have heard the report. We wound our way up the hill, when we came to a point where I expected to see the huts; but no trace of them could I discover. The grass was green from the recent rains; the trees waved on the hill-side as before; but the huts, the habitations of our friends, where were they? I shouted out, but no answer came. My heart sank within me. I could no longer restrain my anxiety, and telling Natty to follow slowly, I rushed up the hill. There, on the spot where the huts had stood, were heaps of charred timber. I felt faint and sick! What had become of our friends! I scarcely dared to search about, lest I might find some dreadful traces of their death. Oh no, no! It is impossible! The dear, energetic, gentle Kate—such could not have been her fate! And sweet little Bella too! Still, I could not resist the temptation to search about. There were no traces of human beings. I saw, too, by the way the grass had sprung up, that some time must have passed since the fire took place. I roused myself as I saw Natty approaching. I was afraid of what the effect might be on him, and hurried down the hill to prepare him for the scene; indeed, I thought it might be better to turn the zebra’s head, and let him proceed down the mountain again. Still, I did not like to leave the spot without a further examination.

“I should like to look at it,” said Natty, when I told him. “I cannot believe that they are lost; and perhaps by an examination we may discover something to guide us in our future proceedings.”

The little zebra did not object to come up the hill, but when he reached the black spot where the house had stood, he stopped, gazing at it, and I thought trembled.

“It seems to me,” said Natty, after remaining silent for a minute or two, “that the zebra must have made his escape when the huts were on fire, and the other animals were set free. Oh! I do—I do hope that our friends escaped! I will not believe that they did not!”

I would not let Natty quit the zebra, but allowed him to sit down on a stone, holding the rein, while I examined the ruins in the neighbourhood. Though I searched carefully in every direction, not a trace of any sort could I discover. Everything they had must have been destroyed or carried off by them I trusted that the latter was the case.

“It is of no use, Natty,” I said at last. “Here they are not, and we must go in search of them.”

“What do you think, Andrew?” said Natty. “Perhaps they have gone to Kabomba, where the people know the captain and Timbo, and would, I am sure, receive them kindly.”

“I trust you are right, Natty,” I said; “and we will set off there immediately.”

Without loss of time we descended the hill. I had spent so much time, however, in examining the ruins, that we could get but a little distance before it grew dark. I made our camp as usual, and had only finished a hut sufficient to hold Natty before darkness overtook us. I made up a good fire, also, and hoped by tethering the zebra close to the hut, that no wild beast would injure him during the night. There was little fear of my fire going out, for my anxiety concerning our friends kept me awake. Over and over again I thought of all sorts of accidents which might have happened. We had but little food remaining, and all but my last charge of powder was expended. Still, my anxiety about our friends prevented me thinking of our own condition.

We travelled on all next day, and I began to fear that we must have passed the village. Just, however, as the sun was about to set, his rays lighted up the tops of some huts in the distance. We made towards them, though still doubtful whether they were those of Kabomba or not. Perhaps the inhabitants had themselves attacked and destroyed our friends. I had often heard of the treachery of the natives, and these might be as bad as others.

“Still, we must hazard everything for the sake of ascertaining the truth.” I said to Natty.

“Oh yes, yes,” he answered. “I do not fear them; and after all, Andrew, they can but kill us; and if they have killed our friends, were it not wrong, I should almost wish that they would kill us.”

As we got nearer to the side of the village I had no longer any doubt that it was the one Stanley had visited. That we might not take the inhabitants by surprise, as I drew near I shouted out, and presently several people appeared at the chief entrance. As soon as they saw us they came running forward. Among them was an old man, whom, by his appearance, I took to be the chief. He had no weapon, and as he drew near, his countenance, which wore a friendly expression, reassured me. I therefore hastened on, leading the zebra, to meet him. He took my hands in his, and looking into my face, seemed to be inquiring whence we came. Then he seized Natty’s hands and stroked his face, and exhibited every sign of regard. He cast, however, an astonished gaze at the zebra, and was evidently greatly surprised at seeing the docility of the animal.

“At all events, you see, they are friends,” said Natty. “I do hope they can give us some account of the rest.”

We were quickly conducted inside the village. The chief led us to his house. He then seemed to inquire what we would do with the little zebra, and pointed to a small enclosure on one side. I begged that it might be placed within it, and signified that I should be glad if it could be supplied with grass. Immediately several people set out with knives, I concluded for the purpose of cutting the grass. My disappointment was great, however, at not seeing any of our friends, and by all the signs I could think of I inquired of the chief what had become of them. I could get no satisfactory reply to my questions, and I could not help supposing that the chief had some reason for not informing me. We were taken at once into his house, and in a short time food was placed before us. How delicious the plantains and cassava tasted, and some well-dressed venison. As soon as our hunger was satisfied I again began to inquire by signs about our friends. A stranger coming in might have supposed that I was performing some pantomimic play for his especial amusement. He, however, seemed greatly puzzled, and I concluded of course that I had not the right talent for my purpose. At length a sign of intelligence came over his countenance, and he now in return made a variety of gestures, which I must own were considerably more clear than mine. He first pointed to the north, and held up his fingers, counting the number of people of whom our party consisted. He then got up and ran across the room, and next opened his arms, and seemed to be receiving some phantom guests. He then lay down on the ground and pretended to be asleep, and got up seven times; by which I understood that they had come and remained at the village that number of days. He next pointed southward, and seemed to be mourning, as if regretting that they had taken their departure. I now told Natty I was sure our friends had come to the village, and after stopping a few days had proceeded to the south. The chief seemed to understand that Natty was ill, and he and his wives did their best to arrange a comfortable bed for him with mats placed over dried grass strewed on the ground. I hoped that after a day’s rest he would be able again to set forward, as I wished to lose no time in following our friends. I spoke of my intention to Natty.

“Can you think of doing so without first trying to find Leo?” he said. “Perhaps our new friends here will assist us.”

“If you were better able to undergo the fatigue I would,” I said; “but I wish first to place you in safety.”

“Oh, do not think of that,” he answered, “leave me here. The people seem so friendly, that I am sure they will take care of me; and though I wish very much indeed to go with you, I am sure I should only be an impediment to your progress.”

I immediately set to work to try and make the chief understand that two of our party were in captivity somewhere in the east or south-east, and that I wished to go in search of them. I was nearly sure that he understood me, and with some hopes of setting off next day I lay down to get a sounder sleep than I might possibly enjoy for many days to come.

The next morning, when I again entered on the subject, he appeared to be unwilling to accede to my wishes. I was indeed not sorry to rest another day and night, hoping that in the meantime something might occur to assist my project. I remembered the account Stanley had given of the idol like a crocodile which he had seen. Curiosity prompted me to search for it as I walked about the village. The chief divined my object, and, taking my arm, led me into a hut, where on the ground lay a number of fragments of plaster, wicker-work, and hair. On these he stamped, and then turned away with a contemptuous glance, touching his ears and eyes, and then shaking his head, as much as to say that the idol could neither hear nor see. From several other signs he made, I came to the conclusion that Timbo had carried out his project, and at all events succeeded in showing the blacks the falsity of their wretched faith. I had hopes, too, that he had also planted the germs of a purer one in their minds. It was on that and other accounts very vexatious being so utterly unable to exchange ideas with them. One thing was certain,—they were disposed to treat Natty and I with the greatest kindness. At last, by perseverance, I made the chief understand what I wanted, and he signified his readiness to assist me. I showed him also that I wished him to take care of Natty while I was away. At this he seemed highly pleased, and brought his son—a boy of about Natty’s age—to show that he would be his companion, and that he would take as good care of him as he would of his own children. To show his still greater readiness to assist me, he brought a number of articles which had evidently been left by our friends, I could not make out whether as gifts or not. He signified that we might ransom Leo with them if he was detained as a prisoner. These, and sufficient provisions to last me for several days, I placed on the back of the zebra. The load, though not very heavy, was as much as I thought it could carry.

I was doubtful whether I should venture to go alone, or obtain some attendants. If they proved faithful they would be of great use, otherwise I would rather have trusted to my own energy and watchfulness. The matter was settled by the chief bringing up three young men, whom he signified were to accompany me. They were armed with shields, bows and arrows, and spears; but these might alarm their countrymen, and I knew I must depend for success only on pacific measures. It cost me a good deal to part with Natty. He looked so sorrowful when I bid him good-bye.

“But you will bring back Leo; I know you will,” he said. “I cannot help thinking he is not very far off.”

Just as I was parting the chief brought me a prize, which, in my circumstances, was of the greatest value. It was a powder-horn full of fine powder. I could not help fancying it must have been left behind by accident. It was certainly, however, not the one which Stanley had been in the habit of using.

I think I have before said that the zebra would not allow any of the blacks to come near him. I was therefore obliged to lead him myself, they following at a little distance behind. He then went on readily enough: but the moment they came near his heels, he flung out in a way which made them always keep at a respectful distance.

I must give a very brief account of my journey. It required a good deal of calculation to direct my course. I had first to consider the position of the village where Natty and I had remained so long near the lake. It was some distance to the south-east of this that I might hope to find Leo, and yet at no very great distance, otherwise my former hosts would not have refused to go beyond the stream, at which it will be remembered we turned back. The journey might, I thought, occupy me three or four days, if I could manage to steer a direct course for it. The weather was now again fine, so we camped out at night, lighting the usual watch-fires; and I lay down on the ground with the zebra tethered near me. We saw two or three villages in the distance; but I understood from my companions that they were sure no white men were there, or they would have heard of it. At length, at the end of a four days’ journey, a village appeared directly before us, situated on some rising ground. It was in the direction where, by my calculations, I thought it possible the one would be found to which Leo had been carried. A number of goats were feeding on the side of the hill, and below my eyes were gladdened by the sight of some horned cattle, which, by their movements, were evidently tame.

My companions now made signs to me that I might go on alone, as they did not feel disposed to trust themselves within the village until they had ascertained the disposition of the inhabitants. Leading the zebra, I therefore walked on till I came in sight of a gate at the end of the principal street, if I may so call it, it being always remembered that the houses were only reed huts, and the gates were composed of rough poles. As I neared it several people issued forth with javelins in their hands, and, vociferating loudly, rushed towards me. My gun was slung at my back, so I held up my hands to show that I had no intention of attacking them. On this they somewhat slackened their pace, though they still held their weapons in a threatening manner. I knew that my best chance of safety was to advance boldly without showing any sign of fear. This had the desired effect, and they now came on in a more friendly manner. They showed signs of astonishment at seeing the zebra in my company, and, I observed, paid me more respect from believing that I had the power of taming an animal so generally untameable. We were still at some little distance from the gates, when another person came out. Seeing me, he rushed forward, and breaking through the people who surrounded me, threw himself at my feet. Greatly to my delight I recognised young Mango. Tears dropped from his eyes as he took my hands.

“O massa, so glad! so glad!” he exclaimed, showing that he had not forgotten his small knowledge of English.

“And Leo?” I asked, taking him by the hand; “where is he?”

“Gone! gone!” he answered.

My heart sank as I heard this.

“What! dead?” I exclaimed, the thought of the grief his death would cause his sisters and Natty, indeed all of us, coming into my mind.

I was greatly relieved when Mango answered—

“No, massa, not dead; but gone away,” and he pointed south.

“What I did any one come to take him away, or did he go all alone?”

“Yes, massa, all alone,” said Mango. “He run away. Dey catchy me, and bring back.”

This was indeed disappointing. Still, I hoped that he might reach some place of safety, or that possibly I might find him. On making further inquiries of Mango, I ascertained that he had started only two days before. Then I thought, perhaps he has gone towards Kabomba; I may actually have passed him on the road.

The inhabitants now conducted me into the village, accompanied by Mango, and I was led before the chief. He was an enormously fat man, and was seated on a pile of matting in a sort of verandah in front of his abode, and supported by a number of women, whom I took to be his wives. Determined not to be treated as a prisoner, I went up at once and shook him by the hand, and told Mango to explain that I had come from a distance to look for a young countryman, and that my people would be very angry if any injury had happened to him. The chief was evidently not addicted to making long speeches, indeed it was with difficulty he brought out his words. Mango interpreted what he said. He declared that he had no intention of injuring the white boy; that his people had found him and his companion some time back, and that he had since fed him and taken good care of him, and that of his own accord he had run away.

“Yes,” added Mango, “what he say true; but when we want go away, he no let us, so Massa Leo run. He got rifle and powder, too, and dis make old rogue here wish keepy.”

I concluded from this that Leo’s case had been very similar to ours, and as my anxiety about him had somewhat decreased, I began to fear that the fat chief would detain me in his place. I therefore assumed a still more authoritative air, and declared that though my people were very much obliged to the chief for taking care of our friends, they would be very angry at his having detained them longer than they wished.

“Tell him I insist upon their letting you go immediately, and if they do so, I am prepared to make them a present; but that if not, I shall fight my way out of the place on the back of my wonderful steed there”—pointing to the zebra—“and very likely return and burn their village to the ground.”

“Bery good,” said Mango; and he began to interpret my address, adding, I suspect, not a few threats and boastings of his own.

The effect, at all events, was to make the old chief and his attendants treat me with great civility. His wives hurried off to prepare a banquet, and I was allowed to proceed through the village with Mango as my guide. I led the zebra all the time, for the little animal showed a great disinclination to leave me, or to go nearer the blacks than he could help; indeed, when any of them drew near, as was his usual custom, he struck out with his heels right and left at them, or, if they appeared in front, he ran forward and tried to bite them. He, however, appeared to recognise Mango, and though he would not allow him to touch his head, yet he showed no hostility when he came near.

By the time the banquet—which consisted of a variety of dishes of the meat of several wild animals—was over, it was almost dark. I had no doubt my attendants would camp out in the neighbourhood of the village, and I therefore told the chief that I would take my departure, accompanied by Mango, and camp with them, to be ready to start on the following morning. I found, however, that he had no intention of letting me go so easily, and insisted that I must pass the night in his village. Seeing how matters stood, I said that I had no objection to do this, but that I must have a house to myself, where my zebra would obtain accommodation, as I could not be parted from the animal; and that I wanted Mango also to attend on me. There is an old saying, “There is nothing like asking for a thing one wants,” and I found the advantage of so doing; for my request, after the chief had consulted his wives, was granted. This arrangement being made, I told Mango to inform the chief that I required a supply of green grass for my animal. This also was brought me before night. I asked Mango whether he thought the chief intended to detain us. He did not think so; but expressed himself ready to try and get out of the village during the night, if I thought it advisable. I discovered, on further questioning him, that he and Leo had heard of the appearance of some white people at the distance of three or four days’ journey off, towards the south-west, and though the account was not very exact, from that moment Leo had determined to make his escape. He arranged that if they could not get off together he should go first, and leave marks to show his route. Mango was to follow, or should he be prevented, Leo promised that he would return with his friends to his rescue.

“But, massa,” added Mango, “long way walky. Dey got cows, big horns, for ridey. Me steal one for massa.”

Perhaps I am making Mango speak even more clearly than he really did; but he made me understand his meaning by the help of words and signs.

“No,” I replied. “I shall be very glad to buy one of their animals, though they must suppose it is for you to ride, and not for me, as they now believe that I could not possibly require any other steed beside my zebra.”

While I remained in the hut, I sent Mango to the chief with an offer to buy an ox, provided he would bring several to the village early in the morning for me to choose from. Mango shortly returned to say that the chief agreed to my proposal; indeed, the old man was probably, as most Africans are, perfectly ready to do a stroke of business, particularly as Mango had told him that I was willing to pay a good price for the animal.

Chapter Twenty Two.

A Search for Leo, and an Unexpected Meeting.

I need not enter into the particulars of my purchase. The transaction was soon completed. I had brought articles sufficient, I hoped, to ransom both Leo and Mango. I told the chief that, although I did not consider myself bound to pay him anything for releasing Mango, yet I would make him a present in consideration of the kind treatment which he and my young countryman had experienced. All parties seemed well pleased, especially when I offered a further sum for some provisions—cassava, plantains, antelope flesh, and dried elephant meat—which I intended for my attendants, whom I hoped to meet in the valley below.

In case the fickle negroes should change their mind, I hurried off as soon as I possibly could without exciting their undue suspicions, and was glad to find that no one followed us. We took our way down the hill to a spot where I left my three attendants, but they were nowhere to be seen. There was their camp-fire, but it had long gone out; and I supposed that, having been alarmed, they had taken to flight. I hoped to come up with them further on. Still, no traces could I see of the deserters. As I had made up my mind to search for Leo before returning to Kabomba, I gave up the pursuit, and turned on one side for the purpose of intersecting the course I concluded, from Mango’s account, that he had taken.

Leo had promised to make crosses on trees, and where no trees existed to cut the same mark on the grass, or to arrange stones in a like form, or to stick little crosses into the ground, to show his course. “I always thought that Leo had his wits about him, and this proves it!” I exclaimed, though Mango probably did not understand me. We accordingly examined the ground on either side as we went along. I could still see in the far distance the outlines of the village, and, judging by the sun, I calculated that it was about north-east of us, while I hoped by travelling south-west to come up with my young friend.

We had been searching for some time, and at Mango’s suggestion I had mounted the ox. I have not before described the animal. It was clean-limbed, almost white, with long pointed horns projecting horizontally from its head; a thoroughly tame and tractable animal. It went on at a steady pace, sufficient to keep Mango and the zebra at a trot. We were searching carefully as we went for Leo’s promised indication of his route, when Mango suddenly started off, and running a few paces, lifted up a small cross, formed of two pieces of wood, fastened together by the material of which the natives make their mats. Mango’s delight was excessive. “See I see!” he exclaimed. “We now find—we now find Massa Leo!” and running on ahead, he lifted up a second cross made in the same way. The arms of both of them were pointing in the direction which we supposed Leo had taken. This fact also showed his forethought, for if a single cross only had been left, we should have had to search about perhaps for a long time before ascertaining his route. We now went on with more confidence. From the start he had had, I feared it would be some time before we could come up with him. Still, as he had his rifle and provisions to carry, I knew that he could not proceed as fast as we were doing. We travelled on till nightfall, when we tethered the animals with some rope which Mango had brought, lighted our fires, and made a slight shelter from the wind. As the weather was clear, there was no necessity for building a substantial hut. Having unloaded the zebra, I placed the packages under my head as a pillow, keeping my rifle as usual by my side, and told Mango that we would watch alternately during the night. I gave him the first watch, with directions to call me after a couple of hours, intending to allow him a longer rest than I took myself. I was awoke by a loud roar sounding in my ears. It was the well-known voice of a lion. I started up. So did Mango, for he had been asleep. A few glowing embers of the fire alone remained. I had seized my rifle instinctively, and with it in my hand looked around on every side. The ox stood near, though trembling violently; but the little zebra was nowhere to be seen. I caught sight, however, of the massive form of a lion bounding over the ground. The zebra, I hoped, had escaped, though the lion might be pursuing it, and I resolved to try and save the life of our little pet. I fired, and believed that I had hit the savage brute, for it stopped and growled more furiously than before. Meantime Mango was employed in throwing sticks on the fire, blowing with might and main to make them blaze up. The lion drew nearer. Again I fired, but missed. There might be scarcely time to reload before the lion would be upon me. I hurriedly began to do so. I never more eagerly rammed down a charge. Still the lion came on. Mango piled on more sticks, and blew and blew harder than ever, as if his existence depended on it. So, perhaps, it did, for had the lion made a spring, and had I again missed him, Mango’s life must have been sacrificed. Just then the fire blazed up. Fortunately the sticks were very dry. A few bounds would have brought the savage brute up to us. I shouted, and so did Mango, with might and main. I refrained, however, from firing till the lion had approached nearer, for should I not kill him outright, he might, in spite of the fire, rush towards us. On he came roaring, but slowly, afraid of the flames. Once more he stopped. He dared not face them. Greatly to my relief, he then turned round and moved off, roaring furiously. Fearing that he might still pursue the zebra, which I hoped had escaped, and might, after making a circuit, come back to us, I raised my rifle and fired again. I fancied I could hear the thud of the bullet as it struck the lion behind the shoulder. Fearful were the roars he uttered; but defeated, he stalked off, evidently having had enough of the fight. Mango, who had been thoroughly alarmed, seemed very penitent for having gone to sleep. There was no necessity to point out to him the danger we had been in, in consequence. He tried to say he would never do so again. At last I persuaded him to lie down and rest, while I sat up. I kept looking round, in the hope of seeing the zebra trot up to us, but when the morning came our little pet had not returned.

I had begun to cook our breakfast even before daylight, that we might lose no time in starting, so as to take advantage of the cool air of the early day. We had not gone far when we came to a small cross made of stones on the ground. It revived my spirits, for it was the sign that Leo had passed that way. Then again the fear came across me that the lion which had scented us out might have attacked him. During the day we passed several other crosses, some cut, as he had promised, in the trees; but the greater number were composed, as were the first we had seen, of sticks. It took a shorter time to erect them than to cut the marks on the trees or the grass, or even to make crosses of stones on the ground. Frequently during the day I turned back, in the hope of seeing the zebra following us, but I was disappointed.

The next night passed away, and then another, and Mango kept wide awake during his watch. Leo must have pushed on well, for still the crosses appeared. We came on all the spots where he had slept—his lean-to or hut, with the ashes of his fire before it; and generally midway between them a black patch alone, where he had stopped to cook his mid-day meal. We found the feathers of several birds which he had shot. It was evident, indeed, that he had exercised all the sagacity of an experienced hunter—remarkable in one so young. I was very thankful that I had an animal to ride, for the heat and the constant exertion I was undergoing tried me greatly.

On the third day we still found Leo’s crosses, but several were out of the straight line. The country had become open, similar in character to that which I had passed over with Natty. Hitherto we had found springs affording sufficient water for ourselves and the ox. Now, however, we had to go a long way without meeting with any, though we carried enough in our bottle for ourselves, and a small quantity for the patient ox. Travelling on, I saw something lying on the ground a short distance off. I pointed it out to Mango, who ran towards it, and returned with a knapsack. “Yes,” he said in a sorrowful tone, “dis Massa Leo’s.” I recognised it indeed as the one Leo had with him. Fatigue alone could have made him throw it aside; and perhaps, hoping soon to reach the Europeans of whom he had heard, he would no longer encumber himself with it. Securing it to the ox’s back, we went on still more eagerly, looking carefully about on every side. I expected every moment to overtake Leo. We went on for another mile or more, when to my dismay we found his rifle on the ground. That he certainly would not have thrown away unless greatly overcome by fatigue. Still, perhaps, he might have had no powder, and found it a useless encumbrance. I, however, dreaded that, weak as he must have been before he would quit his knapsack and rifle, he might have fallen an easy victim to some beast of prey. Though we looked anxiously about, we could see nothing of him. Presently Mango, who had gone ahead of me, began running very fast. I pushed on to overtake him, when I saw, lying on the ground, a human form, by the side of which Mango had thrown himself. Could it be Leo? I urged the ox into a gallop, and did not stop till I reached the spot. My worst apprehensions were fulfilled. There lay Leo extended on the grass.

“Is he dead?” I exclaimed, in a faltering voice.

“Hope not, massa,” answered Mango, looking up; “he ’till breathes.”

The words somewhat relieved my fears, and throwing myself from the ox, I knelt down by his side. My first care was to pour some water down his throat, then to bathe his temples; to treat him, indeed, as I had Natty under similar circumstances. I cannot express my thankfulness when I saw him at length open his eyes. He gazed at me with a look of surprise, but he was still too weak to speak. He pointed to his lips, and I gave him more water. It was necessary to get him at once into the shade, for, exposed to the hot sun, it was scarcely possible that he could regain his strength. Mango accordingly lifted him up on the ox’s back, and I supporting him in my arms, he urged the animal on towards a wood we saw in the distance. Leo was still too weak to speak, but he recognised me, and a grateful look lighted up his eyes as he gazed at my face. As I thought he might understand me, I briefly narrated some of my adventures in search of him, of course not telling him my anxiety about his sisters and brothers. How thankful I felt that I had come in time to save him, for it was evident that he would not have survived many hours lying out on the exposed plain. I was now doubtful whether we should proceed on in the same course we had been steering, or turn away to the west in search of Kabomba, where, I felt sure, he would be well taken care of. I should have to go there at all events for Natty, even if we could gain certain tidings that our friends were further south. Presently Leo’s lips moved, and I heard him whispering, “On! on as before! You will find them, I am sure!” This decided me. Still, I resolved to rest at the nearest wood we could reach. I was thankful when at length we arrived at one—a little oasis in the desert. What was still more satisfactory, within it appeared a small pool, a bright stream rushing out of the bank on its side. We had tethered the ox. While Mango sat by Leo’s side bathing his temples and wetting his lips, I was busily employed in collecting wood for our hut. Suddenly the sound of animals rushing across the plain reached my ears. I looked up, and saw a troop of giraffes galloping at full speed, and, closely following them, two horsemen. On they dashed! Shouting at the top of my voice, I called again and again. I rushed to the ox, in the vain hope of overtaking them. Even at that distance I fancied I recognised Stanley, though his companion’s figure I did not know. Just as I was about to mount, there came tearing after them, as if in pursuit, a large herd of buffaloes, among which appeared several huge rhinoceroses. It seemed as if they were in pursuit of the horsemen. Another herd of buffaloes came out of the wood opposite, and stopping, gazed a few moments before joining the chase. The whole passed by like creatures in a dream. I saw at once that it would be impossible to catch up the horsemen; besides which, I should have run a great chance of being gored to death by the rhinoceroses or buffaloes. On they went, tearing across the plain. Poor Leo lifted up his head.

Just then Mango called to me. “He say he sure dey’re friends,” said Mango. “We go after dem.”

“Not just yet,” I answered; “but it is a great satisfaction to have seen them, for it shows that they must be encamped not far off, though in which direction it is hard to say.”

Had I been alone, I should certainly have followed; but it would have killed Leo to move. I therefore remained encamped, hoping that he would soon be sufficiently recovered to proceed. In a short time not an animal was to be seen. However, the incident greatly raised my spirits, especially as Leo was evidently getting better. Mango and I therefore went on building a hut, and collecting wood for a fire. We meantime propped up Leo with the baggage and some piles of wood. While thus employed, I saw a couple of parrots on a bough near, and fortunately killed them; and by the time our fire was burned up, Mango had plucked them, and they were soon roasting before it.

Night came on; but Leo was very restless, and declared that he could not sleep. I did everything I could to soothe him, but in vain. At length the moon rose and lighted up the whole landscape. “Me t’ink good time go on,” said Mango. I thought so too; indeed, I had become very anxious about Leo. The camp, I hoped, was at no great distance, and I thought it would be better to obtain assistance for him, rather than take a long rest and have to travel during the heat of the day. Accordingly, rousing our patient ox, which had lain down near the fire after cropping the abundant grass, I mounted and lifted Leo up, holding him in my arms. Mango carried my rifle, and led the animal, that I might be more at liberty to support my young friend. On we went over the plain. We had gone some distance, when I felt Leo resting more heavily on my arm. I asked him what was the matter. He did not answer. I feared that he had fainted. Telling Mango to stop, we bathed his temples, and I poured a few drops of water down his throat. I had no other remedy. It slightly revived him, for he opened his eyes and spoke a few words; but his condition made me more than ever anxious to discover the camp, if such was indeed to be found. I had already gone through a great deal of anxiety, but nothing to equal what I suffered at present. It seemed so sad to think that Leo might die when succour was so near at hand. Eager, however, as I was to proceed, Leo’s condition prevented me from allowing the ox to go out of a steady walk. Still, even thus, without any jolting, he got quickly over the ground. On and on we went, looking about in every direction for the light of a fire which might indicate the situation of the wished-for camp. I say wished-for, for I was not certain that our friends were actually in the neighbourhood. Perhaps the horsemen I had seen had come from a considerable distance, and were in light hunting order, with merely saddle-bags to hold their provisions and ammunition. If so, they could render us, even if we should fall in with them, but little assistance. These thoughts passed through my mind as we proceeded, while I formed a variety of plans, to be carried out according to any emergency which might arise. As the moon was bright, I had no fear of an attack from wild beasts.

We had gone on for about three hours, when Mango stopped. “See, massa, see!” he exclaimed. I looked ahead, and observed a ruddy glow in the sky. The ox at the same time poked out his head, as if he also saw something that interested him. Presently the light increased, and I could distinctly make out fires burning in the distance. “If those are campfires, they must have been lighted by a somewhat large party,” I observed. The further we advanced, the more distinct did the fires become. We proceeded eagerly. At length, to my surprise, the ox seemed unwilling to move on. In spite of Mango’s coaxing voice, it proceeded more and more slowly. At length I could distinguish not only the fires, but objects moving about; a waggon and numerous oxen tethered near, and horses and men, gradually came in sight. Then the barking of dogs reached our ears. This made me still more surprised at the unwillingness of the ox to proceed. Then I distinguished some water, on which the light of the fire was reflected. Between us and it, however, several dark objects appeared. In vain Mango now tried to urge on the ox. He stopped altogether. “Ah, massa, look dere!” he exclaimed in a terrified tone. He had cause for alarm. The fires just then blazing up more completely, exhibited the dark outlines of several lions and other creatures, which I took to be hyenas, standing on our side of the stream, watching the camp, while the dogs we had heard ran backwards and forwards, barking at them from the opposite side. My fear now was that the savage brutes might turn and attack us. Even if they did not do so, it might take us some time to find a ford and get round to the camp, unless we could make the travellers hear us and come to our assistance. Mango and I shouted again and again with all our might. Though our friends might not have heard our voices, the wild beasts did, for suddenly turning round, the whole pack, with angry roars, came bounding towards us.

Chapter Twenty Three.

Doings at the Camp.

It was a nervous thing to stand in front of a dozen or more lions and hyenas bounding over the plain. I thought the ox would have bolted, in spite of Mango’s efforts to hold him. To fly would have been more dangerous than standing still, so we remained firm, and shouted our utmost. The moon, which had before been behind a cloud, came out brightly, when the savage creatures, awed, if not terrified, by our cries, separated as they approached us, and bounded off on either hand into the wilds. The ox, recovering from his alarm, no longer refused to move on.

Reaching the banks of the stream, we again cried out, hoping to attract the attention of the travellers.

“Who are you? What is it you want?” shouted a voice from the other side.

“Andrew Crawford and Leonard Hyslop with the black Mango. We want to cross the river and join you,” I shouted in return.

“Welcome! welcome! Move to the right! There is an easy passage. We will go that way and show you. Captain Hyslop and several of his party are here.” The last words which reached my ears were the first certain intimation I had that my cousin Stanley was in the camp near us. I earnestly hoped that his sisters and David were there also. As we rode along we heard a number of voices, and saw men with torches moving rapidly along the side of the stream. Presently we came to a somewhat wider part, where the banks were very low, and where I should have expected to find a ford. At the same time several people were seen with torches crossing it. We went on to meet them, Mango leading the ox, which advanced without hesitation. We were already in the water when I heard Stanley’s voice.

“Andrew, my dear fellow, is it you? and have you really brought poor Leo?” he exclaimed. “We had given you all up for lost!”

“I have brought him,” I said; “but where is David?”

“He is in the camp; but having turned in, I suppose was not dressed in time to join us,” he replied.

We had not time to exchange many words while crossing the stream; but as soon as we had got safe on dry ground I gave him a brief account of our adventures, and expressed my anxiety to have Leo placed under David’s care without delay.

“And Kate and Bella!” I asked. “Are they with you, and well?”

“Yes, I am thankful to say so,” he answered, “though they have had to go through much hardship, no little danger, and great fatigue; indeed, I do not know what would have occurred had not our friend Silva, and a party he had collected, arrived sooner than we expected. He had fallen in with a trader making an exploring expedition further north than any of his calling have hitherto reached, and, offering him a handsome remuneration, induced him to come on with his waggon and several good horses, in the hope of meeting us. The trader—Donald Fraser by name, a Scotchman—having got into this unknown region, would not consent to proceed further, and was on the point of turning south again, when Silva induced him to remain another week, while Chickango went on to try and get tidings of us. We had, meantime, started south, and happily fell in with him, when reduced to extremities, about two days’ journey from the camp. I am not surprised at our friend Donald’s unwillingness to proceed, for he had fallen in with some rough customers, who were more likely to rob him of his goods than pay for them. However, by the exertion of the diplomatic talents of our friend Silva, they got free, and now, I am thankful to say, we are all well, and ready to march southward. Kate and Bella have been dreadfully cut up about Leo’s loss, and yours, too, Andrew. But what has become of Natty? I hope the poor boy is not dead?”

I satisfied Stanley on that point.

“We must go back, then, for him at once,” he remarked. “Though the Kabomba people may treat him well, we must not desert the poor lad.”

By this time we had reached the camp. Although the rest of the party had been asleep, they had been aroused, and now appeared out of their respective huts to receive us. Kate and Bella greeted me kindly, but were too much occupied with poor Leo to exchange more than a few words. He was at once carried into their hut, where David went to attend to him. Senhor Silva, Jack, Timbo, and the other blacks, greeted me warmly.

“So glad, Massa Andrew, you come back; so glad,” exclaimed Timbo. “Me pray always for you. Neber t’ought you lost. Knew you come back some day, dough me not den know de way.”

Though I felt somewhat fatigued, my friends insisted on getting a substantial supper ready; and the relief I felt from the idea that my cares had now come to an end, contributed to give me a good appetite. I was introduced to Mr Donald Fraser, a tall, gaunt, red-haired Scotchman.

“I am very glad to welcome you, Mr Andrew Crawford,” he said, putting out his horny-palmed hand. “You come from the North, I know, by your name, and you are none the less welcome so far from the old country, out in these southern and heathenish lands. Your stout arm and rifle will be a pleasant addition, too, to our party; for they are rough fellows we are travelling amongst, and I shouldn’t be surprised if we had to fight our way out from their midst.”

“My father came from Scotland, and though I have never been in it, I love the country for his sake,” I answered. “Though I hope we shall have no fighting, I am ready to take my part if we have to defend ourselves.”

“No doubt you would, Mr Crawford,” he said. “We are men of peace, and should never wish to fight, unless in cases of urgent necessity. I hope, now you are come, we shall begin our journey southward forthwith.”

“I am afraid not, Mr Fraser,” said Stanley. “My brother, who has just arrived, will scarcely yet be able to move, and we have a young friend, I find, lying ill at a village some days’ journey to the north of us; and until we get him we cannot leave this spot.”

This information did not seem very palatable to our friend Donald; but after taking a glass of real Glenlivet, a flask of which stood in our midst, his countenance relaxed.

“Ay, to be sure. I had once a young brother of my own, a delicate boy. I had few else to love in the world. He is gone; but I know how you feel about this little fellow; we must not risk his life. And the other lad, the son of poor Captain Page—I knew him—made a voyage aboard his ship—and should like to do the boy a good turn for his sake. I don’t greatly esteem the gratitude of this world, and yet it’s pleasant to have the opportunity of repaying a debt for kindness received.”

I was glad to hear these remarks, and trusting that Natty would find a friend in Mr Fraser, I lay down to enjoy a sounder rest than I had for very long obtained.

Leo was much better in the morning, and David told me that though he was seriously ill, yet he trusted that he would shortly regain sufficient strength to travel. I begged of Stanley that he would allow me to accompany him to convey Natty to the camp. To this he willingly agreed, and it was arranged that Timbo was to take a third horse and act as interpreter, and that we were to travel during the bright moonlight hours of night.

I was anxious to set off immediately; but the horses were so tired with their hunting expedition of the previous day, that Stanley considered it was necessary to give them a couple of days’ rest before they would be fit to start.

“When did you ride last, Mr Crawford?” inquired Donald Fraser of me the following morning. “Because it strikes me that, unless you are a good horseman, you’ll be little fit to take the journey the captain proposes, at the rate he goes over the ground.”

I confessed that some years had passed since I had mounted a horse, though in my father’s prosperous days I had owned one, and was then a fair rider.

“Well, then, we’ll just take a canter across the plain this afternoon. It will not tire the horses, and it will help to get your muscles into play for the exertion you’ll have to make by-and-by,” he said.

I was very glad to accept his offer. After dinner, with our rifles at our backs—to be ready for any lion, panther, elephant, or rhinoceros which might cross our path—we set out for an hour’s ride towards the south, Stanley cautioning us not to go far and fatigue the horses.

“Never fear, captain,” answered Mr Fraser. “We’ll just go far enough to stretch our steeds’ legs, and see how our young friend here sticks to his saddle.”

As we rode along my companion gave me many valuable hints with regard to the journey I was about to undertake.

“Keep your horse well in hand,” he observed, “your eyes about you, and your ears open; never press him unnecessarily; and then, should you meet a lion or be attacked by savages, you will be ready for action, and do what in my opinion is the wisest thing under such circumstances—get out of their way.”

We had not gone far when an exclamation of pleasure burst from Donald, and I saw to the southward a vast herd of springboks crossing from east to west. Numerous as were the wild animals we had met with, I had never seen so many of one species together. They formed an immense herd extending for a full mile across our path, and, as far as we could judge, of the same width. On they went, bounding and leaping. “On! on!” cried my companion, forgetting all about our tired steeds; and putting spurs to the flanks of his, away he galloped, calling on me to keep up with him. The wary animals saw us coming, and, apprehending danger, immediately began to scour over the plain, turning, however, to the south-west. This placed us directly behind them. They would lead us a long chase, of that there was no doubt; but Donald was too eager to think of letting them escape. Mile after mile was passed over. We were approaching the herd. They now, however, began to scatter to the right and left, though still keeping in considerable bodies. We followed the centre one. At length we found ourselves in a rocky country, which compelled us to turn aside. Twice Donald fired, and each time brought down an animal. I also killed one; but could with difficulty rein in my horse while I reloaded my rifle. Away the springboks went, leaping over the rocks with wonderful agility. We had been gradually ascending, when Donald disappeared among the rocks and trees to the right, and shortly afterwards I found myself going down the somewhat steep side of a hill, with a number of springboks directly ahead of me. I again fired, but missed, when I stopped to reload; and just then looking up, I saw a high precipice, towards which several of the springboks were making. Rushing on, regardless of the height of the cliff, they leaped over it. I thought they must have broken their legs; but they alighted unhurt. Just then I saw Donald coming on at full speed, directly after another herd. They, too, made for the precipice. I shouted out to him, fearing that he might not see it, and that he and his horse would fall over and be killed. I shouted and waved again and again. Just before he reached the edge he saw me, and though he could not have heard what I said, he guessed there was danger, and reined in his steed; not, however, till they were both on the point of rushing over. Scrambling up the hill, I rejoined him. He had killed four antelopes—a welcome supply for our camp. We might have slaughtered many more, but those we had got we could not carry home. Gutting up four animals, we loaded our horses with the meat, and then drew the remaining two into a hollow of a rock, and filled up the entrance with stones and sand, hoping to send for them in the evening.

The springboks are so called from their wonderful agility. They are found in all parts of Southern Africa, and are more numerous than any other variety of the antelope. In form they are very graceful—not unlike the lovely gazelle of the north of Africa.

We had a somewhat fatiguing trudge towards the camp, though we had less to complain of than our steeds. The supply of venison was very welcome, though I was afraid, in consequence of our long chase, the intended journey might be delayed another day. Donald complimented me on my horsemanship; indeed, I had not been five minutes in the saddle before I found myself perfectly at home. I was somewhat stiff, I must confess; but the horses were not much the worse for their unexpected gallop. We therefore prepared to set off the following afternoon.

No time was lost in sending for the rest of the venison, which the hyenas would soon have found out had it been allowed to remain during the night. Late in the evening Chickango and one of the Hottentots, who had been sent to bring it in, returned. As they were approaching the camp, one of the oxen, which had been allowed to feed for a moment, was seen suddenly to stop, and begin to roar with pain, its countenance exhibiting the utmost helplessness. I, with others, ran forward to see what was the matter, supposing that it must have been bitten by some venomous insect or snake. Donald soon followed, when, telling the men to hold the poor ox’s mouth, he took out of it a curious woody-looking substance, covered with sharp thorns.

“The poor creature has got this seed-vessel of the grapple plant into his mouth,” he said, exhibiting it. “I suspect that any of you who had taken the same between your jaws would have roared too, if not so loudly.”

He told us that if an animal lies down upon these seed-vessels, they stick to his skin, so that he cannot possibly get rid of them. David, who examined it, said it came from the plant Uncaria procumbens; or grapple plant.

I had gone out the next morning soon after sunrise to look round the camp, when I saw several birds of a greyish colour, about the size of a common thrush. Their notes, too, reminded me, as they sang their morning song, of the mistletoe thrush. Presently they flew off together, some way up the stream. Turning round, I saw Chickango, Igubo, and several of Mr Fraser’s blacks following, with guns in their hands, accompanied by a pack of dogs. I pointed out the birds to them. “’Noceros not far off,” observed Chickango. Presently we saw the birds pitch behind a neighbouring bush, and getting on one side of it, what was my surprise to find that they were standing on the back of a huge rhinoceros, sticking their bills into his head, and even into his ears, and uttering a loud harsh grating cry. The rhinoceros, we could see even at that distance, was a huge white monster, with a couple of horns, a short one placed on the head behind the front, and pointed—a formidable looking weapon. The object, probably, of these rhinoceros-birds, as they may be called, in thus pitching on his body, was to feed upon the ticks, and other parasitic insects, which swarm upon those animals. They also attend upon the hippopotamus, and, whether intentionally or not I cannot say, often thus give him warning of danger. Presently up rose the rhinoceros and looked about him. I, unfortunately, not intending to go far from the camp, had left my rifle behind. The dogs at that instant started off, rushing with loud barks towards the monster. They had better have kept at a distance, for, lowering his head, he caught the first which leaped towards him on his horn, and threw him back dead among the reeds. Then, turning round, he charged directly towards us. The unarmed blacks immediately took to the water. Unable to escape by flight, I thought that my last moments had come; but, providentially, the dogs attracting his attention, diverted it from me. Chickango, rifle in hand, boldly ran up to face the monster, who at that instant seemed to catch sight of the waggon and cattle in the distance. He probably thought it an enemy worthy of his courage, for, to my great horror and dismay, in spite of our shouts and the barking of the dogs, he rushed off towards it. I could only hope that our friends saw him coming, though when I left the camp they were still asleep. I thought he would have struck Chickango, who was directly in his course; but the active black sprang out of his way, and then turning round, fired at his head. Though I was sure the bullet had struck, yet it did not stop his course. On he dashed towards the waggon. I shouted and shouted to Stanley, hoping that he might possibly hear my voice. In vain. The brute went on, and seemed to be almost in the midst of the camp. Aiming directly at the waggon, he struck it, and, heavy as it was, so great was the impetus of his huge body that he sent it on several feet. Fortunately he came against it in the rear, otherwise it must inevitably have been upset. Just then another shot was fired, and, greatly to my relief, over rolled the huge creature. Never have I heard such shouting, barking, and yelping of dogs, as immediately arose.

When I got to the camp I found our friends, as may be supposed, in a state of no small alarm; but that quickly subsided, and the blacks especially gave way to their delight at the prospect of so bountiful a supply of meat as the creature’s carcass would afford them. We calculated that it was fully equal to three good-sized oxen. It was an enormous creature. David likened it to an immense grey hog shorn of its bristles. With the exception of a tuft at the extremity of the ears and tail, it had no hair on its body. Its eyes were absurdly small; indeed, at a little distance one could scarcely see them. We agreed that, what with its giant body, misshapen head, ungainly legs and feet, and absurdly small eyes, it was, according to our notions, the very image of ugliness. Next to the elephant, the white rhinoceros is the largest animal in existence, and scarcely inferior to it in strength, as this one had proved by the way in which it pushed on the huge waggon. Notwithstanding its ungainly appearance, it had shown us how active it could be, by the way it had turned about when assailed by the dogs, and the rapid charge it made towards the camp; indeed, I believe even a fast horse, with a rider on his back, could only keep pace with it. Senhor Silva told us it cannot go long without water, and it is, therefore, always found in the neighbourhood of some pond or fountain, which it seeks at least once during the day, both to quench its thirst and to wallow in the mud, in which amusement it delights. Probably it is thus able to get rid of the insects which cling to its hide. We measured the animal, and found that it was nearly sixteen feet in length, from the snout to the end of the tail, and twelve feet in circumference. It is said to attain the age of one hundred years; indeed, judging from its horns, the old fellow we killed must have been nearly as old. The body was long and thick; the belly hanging nearly to the ground, and of great size. Its legs were short, round, and very strong; and its hoofs were divided into three parts, each pointing forward. The head was especially large, the ears long and erect, and its small eyes deeply sunk. The horns of the rhinoceros are composed of a mass of fine longitudinal threads, forming a hard solid substance, not secured to the skull, but merely attached to the skin. They rest, however, on a bony protuberance near the nostrils. The white rhinoceros, of which I have been speaking, has an extraordinary prolongation of the head, which we found to be nearly one-third of the length of the whole body. Its nose was square, and the after horn of considerable length. The horn of the black rhinoceros is much shorter, and the animal itself is smaller than the white species. There are, however, four species of rhinoceros—two black, or of a dark colour; and two of a whitish hue. The black is supposed to be of a wilder and more morose disposition than the white. It has a peculiar upper lip, which is capable of extension, and is extremely pliable, so that it can move it from side to side, and twist it round a stick. It in this way collects its food, and carries it to its mouth, making use of it somewhat as an elephant does his trunk. The black species are very fierce, and probably, next to the buffalo, are the most dangerous beasts in Southern Africa to encounter; for the lion gives notice of his approach by his roar, and can easily be driven off, while even the elephant is less pertinacious in assailing an enemy.

Senhor Silva said he had heard of rhinoceroses with three horns, but he had never seen them, and rather doubted their existence. One species known as the cobaba has a front horn frequently upwards of four feet in length, pointing slightly forward from the snout, at an angle of 45 degrees. It can easily be conceived how fearful is a charge from an animal with such a weapon, active and determined as it is. Although the rhinoceros sees but badly, it has a peculiarly acute sense of hearing and smell. It winds an enemy at a great distance; but the hunter may approach to leeward of it within a few paces, if he walks with care, without being discovered, though at the same time any noise will instantly arouse it. Ugly as the rhinoceros is, the female is a very affectionate mother, and guards her young with the tenderest care. The calf also clings to its dam; and Senhor Silva told us that he had seen a calf watching by the side of the carcass two days after the mother had been killed. Until aroused, the rhinoceros looks the most stupid and inoffensive of animals; but woe betide the unwary traveller who offends him! If on horseback, he will have to scamper for his life; if on foot, his only chance of safety is to climb a tree, or hide on the opposite side of the thick trunk of one. A lion will never attack a rhinoceros, and slinks out of his way if he meets one. Even the elephant avoids an encounter, if he can, with so formidable an opponent, who, careless of the blows of his trunk or the thrusts of his tusks, will charge him with his sharp horn, and pierce him to the heart.

Senhor Silva told us that he once saw a battle between a large male elephant and a rhinoceros, when, after an encounter of some minutes, the elephant, who had at first shown great courage and activity, turned tail and fled, the blood flowing from the wounds he had received. He once also saw a battle between four enormous rhinoceroses. Again and again they charged each other, uttering the most horrible grunts, and digging their horns into each other’s sides. So fiercely engaged were the monsters, that they did not observe the approach of his hunters, who succeeded in killing two of them, while the others escaped. Those killed were utterly unfit for food, their flesh being quite rotten from the wounds they had received on previous occasions.

The black rhinoceros feeds on a species of thorn known in Cape Colony as wait-a-bit, which gives it a somewhat acrid and bitter flavour. The white species, however, feeds chiefly on grass. The flesh has in consequence a pleasant taste, and is usually very fat. A high polish can be given to the horns of the rhinoceros, and they are valuable articles of commerce. They fetch, indeed, half as much as common elephant ivory. They are formed into drinking-cups, handles for swords, ramrods for rifles, and are used for many other purposes.

“When you speak of drinking-cups,” said David to our Portuguese friend, who had given us this account, “I have heard that they are believed to possess the virtue of detecting poison. It is said that if wine is poured into them it forthwith rises and bubbles up as if it were boiling; and if poison is mixed with it, immediately the cup splits. It is said, also, that if poison by itself is poured into one of these cups, that the cup will instantly fly to pieces. I confess, however, that I am inclined to doubt that such is the case.”

“I also have no belief in the account,” remarked Senhor Silva.

The ordinary way of killing the rhinoceros is to stalk him either when feeding or asleep. By approaching to leeward, a good shot will kill him before he moves. Some hunters prefer hiding themselves in huts or pits, as he comes to drink in the stream at the morning or evening. Sometimes, however, the animals are taken in pitfalls, such as are used to capture elephants or other large game. Englishmen (for I have not heard of any one else who has done so) occasionally hunt the rhinoceros on horseback. Though their horses have been able to keep up with the chase, the infuriated beasts have been known to charge the hunter. In two instances I heard of, the horses were completely run through by the creature’s horns; and, in two others, the unfortunate huntsmen themselves were killed, being fearfully gored by the savage brutes.

I was very anxious to set off to bring back Natty; and in the afternoon Stanley pronounced the horses fit to proceed. Mr Donald Fraser proposed accompanying us; but when Stanley promised to try and induce some of the blacks to come south and trade with him, he abandoned his intentions, hoping to do a stroke of business in the meantime with any natives who might come to the camp. Timbo therefore took the third horse, and I mounted the one he would have ridden. They were all three fine strong animals, fleet and active; and we hoped on their backs to bid defiance to any human beings or wild beasts we might encounter. Stanley did not fail to urge on those who remained behind the importance of keeping bright fires burning round the camp at night, and being ever on the watch, lest the wild beasts we had encountered might be tempted to swim across the stream and attack either them or the oxen.

“Do you, my dear brother, be careful of yourself,” said Kate, as she wished us good-bye. “You seem to forget that though you have attacked so many of them successfully, some day they may turn round and treat you in the same way.”

Chapter Twenty Four.

Expedition to recover Natty.

Though, after the wild life I had been so long living, I would gladly have remained behind in the society of my young cousins, I was so anxious to learn how Natty was going on that I felt very glad when I found myself in the saddle, with saddle-bags well stored with rhinoceros’ meat and other eatables, and my rifle by my side. We had tethers for our horses, hooks for cutting grass for them, and axes for supplying ourselves with firewood to keep up blazing fires at night.

As we rode along, Stanley gave me fuller details of the attack which had been made on our village, and which had resulted in the party being compelled to quit it and seek safety at Kabomba. Soon after we had left our home on our unfortunate expedition, Timbo had set off to Kabomba, in the hope, as he said, of telling the natives about the Bible, showing them how much superior is the white man’s religion to their foolish idolatry. They had listened more readily than he had expected; and his great wish now was to return there at some future day with missionaries, who might teach them to read about the matter themselves. He had just got back, when one morning Jack Handspike, who was on guard, observed a body of blacks approaching. At first he thought that they were the villagers for whose benefit Stanley had killed the man-eating lions. They, however, very soon exhibited their hostile intentions, by letting fly a shower of arrows into the enclosure. Happily no one was hit. Jack instantly roused the inmates, and fired his rifle at their assailants, while Stanley and the rest seized their arms and rushed out to defend the fortress. Their assailants were, however, too well acquainted with its construction, and were now seen rushing on, each man with a torch in his hand. These they threw among the prickly-pear hedge, which, dried by the hot sun, was as combustible as tinder. In an instant the whole was in a blaze. Stanley had collected his party, each one being loaded with as much property as could be carried. Then, sallying forth, they fired a volley, which drove the blacks to a distance. They were thus able to secure several of their animals, and to save a few more of their effects. They now retreated to some rising ground, where they witnessed the utter destruction of our habitation. The blacks had probably not expected so brave a defence. They once more came on; but a volley killed three of their number, and the rest, disappointed of their expected plunder, took to flight. Timbo on this urged Stanley to set out without delay for Kabomba. They were happily able to reach it, though my young cousins had undergone great fatigue on the journey. After a stay of a week at Kabomba, they had received information that a party of white travellers had appeared at some distance to the south. Scarcely expecting that Senhor Silva could have returned so soon, they set off in the hope of falling in with the strangers, accompanied by an escort of the Kabomba people, who were anxious to show their gratitude by guarding them on their way. They had fallen in, as I have mentioned, with Chickango, and arrived safely at Donald Fraser’s camp. Timbo supposed that the attack had been made by a tribe from the border of the lake, who had heard of the wealth possessed by the white men. It occurred to me that they had possibly come from the very village which our friends had advised us to avoid; and such I found was the ease. Had we fallen into their hands, our fate would have been sealed.

Soon after leaving the camp, we saw before us a grove of tall palm-trees. At first they appeared to form a part of an extensive wood. As we drew nearer, we discovered that the trees grew at considerable distances from each other. They were tall and extremely graceful, each branch having the appearance of a beautiful fan; and as the wind waved them to and fro, the effect was peculiarly pleasing. They are known as “fan-palms”—the most beautiful, perhaps, of their tribe. We found fruit growing on them about the size of an apple, of a deep brown colour. Timbo begged us to stop, and he would try and get some. He accordingly climbed up one of the trees, helping himself with a band round his waist, and soon came down with a number of the fruit. They contained kernels as hard as a stone, which put us in mind of vegetable ivory. We found the fruit very palatable and refreshing. Most of the trees, however, were so tall, that it was evident the fruit could not be obtained without difficulty. I should have said we took a couple of dogs with us which had attached themselves to Stanley. They might prove useful at night in giving us warning of the approach of any wild beast; and we were therefore glad of their company. The country was tolerably open, but in some parts we had to pass through dense forests. In most of these, however, we could generally find an elephant path from one side to the other, always broad enough to allow two horsemen to ride abreast. Frequently Stanley rode ahead; while I rode alongside Timbo, who was more communicative than my cousin. He, I have already said, was a man rather of action than words; and would, for an hour together, ride without speaking, unless something attracted his attention. He had gone some way ahead, with the two dogs at his side; we following at a little distance, though, of course, always keeping him in sight. Timbo was recounting, with considerable animation, some of the adventures of his youth, when suddenly his narrative was interrupted by a loud trumpeting sound, and we saw Stanley wheel round and gallop towards us. At the same moment, a huge elephant, the largest monster I ever saw, with trunk projected, vast ears spread-out, and tail erect, burst from the thicket, and in hot haste pursued my cousin.

“Fly! fly!” shouted Stanley; “gallop off for your lives!” We required no second order to obey him. Stanley was looking round at the monster; but, situated as he was in a pathway between thick trees, among which he could not force a passage, he was unable to fire. Flight was our only resource. We were already deep in the forest, and I had remarked no other way except the one by which we had come. Had we stopped and attempted to fire, we might too likely have shot Stanley, who was directly between us and the elephant. Had we missed, Stanley would certainly have been trampled upon; and so probably should we, as by the delay we should have impeded his progress, and prevented him from escaping. Very unwillingly, therefore, we turned our horses’ heads and galloped on, hoping to keep ahead of him. His horse was, fortunately, the fleetest and strongest animal of the three. It seemed also to know its danger, and flew along over the ground at a rapid rate; but still the cumbrous monster came as fast, trumpeting and shrieking with rage. His huge feet almost touched the horse’s hinder hoofs, so it seemed; while his trunk, in the glance I had got of him, appeared to be about to descend upon Stanley’s head. So dangerous was the position in which he was placed, that I scarcely dared hope he would escape. “On! on!” he shouted. “On! on!” we shrieked in return, trying to urge forward our steeds at a little faster rate. The dogs, aware of their danger, scampered off, with tongues hanging out, watching for an opening in the thicket through which they might bolt. We had passed over several fallen trees and other impediments in the path; and I dreaded lest, coming against such, our horses might stumble. Now a trunk appeared before us. Our horses leaped boldly over it. I hoped that Stanley’s would follow, and that it might offer some impediment to the elephant. Glancing for a moment anxiously round over my shoulder, I saw that the monster had also got over it without stopping. Could we once gain the open country, I knew that we should have a better prospect of escaping; because by separating the elephant would hesitate which to pursue, and while he followed one of us, the others would be able to fire at him. Still we had a considerable distance to go, for I calculated that we had penetrated a mile or more into the forest. It was indeed a gallop for life, and the elephant seemed determined to wreak his fury on us. What had offended him so much it was difficult to say—perhaps the sight of a horse, strange probably to him.

I think I have mentioned that when a troop of elephants are passing leisurely onwards, feeding as they go, their footfall is unheard; but when angry, the case is very different. The monster seemed to make the very ground quake beneath his feet, as he came trumpeting on behind us, adding, not a little, I suspect, to the terror of our horses, which, with manes and tails streaming out, like some demon-pursued steeds of German legend, dashed through the wood. There was no need of whip or spur to urge them on. How thankful I felt when at length, under the tall arched trees, I caught sight of the open plain! Still our steeds dashed on. I turned my head to learn how it fared with Stanley. He was sitting his horse as composedly as ever, though the elephant was close behind him. “Andrew, turn to the right!—Timbo, keep ahead!” he shouted. We obeyed, and the elephant dashed out of the cover. The huge animal was coming on at even greater speed than at first, in no way out of breath with its long and tremendous charge. Stanley wheeled his horse to the left, while the elephant dashed forward, and seeing Timbo, pursued him. This was exactly what Stanley wanted. Again wheeling his horse, he followed, keeping on the quarter of the animal. I saw he was getting his rifle ready to fire. I imitated his example. The dogs, too, breaking from the cover, came in pursuit, and assisted us. With difficulty could Stanley curb in his horse. The elephant, hearing noises behind him, stopped. The instant he did so, Stanley’s rifle was at his shoulder. There was a report, and the animal, a moment before so terror-inspiring by its bulk and powers of destruction, sank upon the grass. Its trunk fell, its mighty limbs stretched out, and before one of the yelping dogs could reach it, life was extinct.

Our escape had indeed been providential. It was some minutes before Timbo could rein in his horse, and we had to shout and shout to him to return. At length, however, he arrived, and was as delighted as we were to see our enemy overcome.

Timbo proposed that we should return to the camp and get our friends to come and carry off the tusks and flesh; but as I was anxious to get assistance for Natty as soon as possible, I begged Stanley to proceed, hoping that we might find the tusks on our way back.

“Dat bery unlikely,” said Timbo; “but we cut dem out and hide dem, and den if black fellows come to take de meat, dey no find de tusks.”

We accordingly set to work to cut out the tusks, which Timbo then hid in the wood and covered them up with branches. I asked Stanley whether we should proceed by the pathway, or take the route outside the forest.

“There is but little fear of our encountering another fellow like the one we have killed,” he answered. “He was evidently a solitary beast, by his savage disposition: and the chances are we shall get through without further interruption. If not, we can but have another gallop for it, Andrew. I rather enjoyed mine; though, to be sure, it was a neck or nothing affair.”

This was the chief difficulty we met on our journey. We formed our camp at night, as we had proposed. With the aid of the dogs and the watch-fires, we were uninterrupted, although the roars of lions were heard in the distance, and we had visits from jackals and hyena-dogs, who came prowling round, attracted by the scent of our roasting meat; Stanley’s unerring rifle supplying us amply with game. We had a pleasant addition one day in a large bustard which he shot. Though very abundant, the bird is shy, so that a good sportsman alone can hope to kill it. It weighed about fifteen pounds. The flesh was very tender and palatable, and we agreed that it was the best flavoured of the game birds we had met with. After each day’s journey, Timbo generally went in search of small game or birds’ eggs, of which he brought us a plentiful supply; so that we lived in abundance.

At length we recognised the reed-covered habitations of our Kabomba friends, the whole population apparently turning out to welcome us. The chief men, and those who had accompanied Stanley to the camp, hurried forward to grasp his hands, while the rest stood at a distance, gazing at the strange animals which our horses appeared to them; indeed, those only who had been to the camp had ever seen a horse before. Our first inquiries were, of course, for Natty.

“Chief say better, but not like walk much,” answered Timbo.

“Beg them to let me see him at once,” I said, riding on.

It was difficult, however, to get through the dense mass who came to shake our hands and embrace Timbo—a ceremony to which they knew we objected. At length we reached the chief’s house, at the entrance of which Natty was standing. Poor fellow! he still looked very pale and thin, and I was afraid from his appearance that his days were numbered.

“I shall get better now you have come for me,” he said, looking up in my face. “I have been so longing for your return, and began to dread that some accident had happened. Do not be anxious about me, Andrew. I know—I am sure I shall get better.”

I trusted so. “The food on which he has been living probably has not suited him,” I thought; “and when he is placed under David’s care, he may begin to improve.” This hope prevented my spirits sinking, as they would otherwise have done. We told the Kabomba people that we were anxious to return immediately to our friends; and as I saw that it would be dangerous for Natty to ride behind one of us, as we had proposed, I begged the chief to allow some of his young men to carry him. To this he agreed; and forthwith I set to work, aided by Timbo, to form a litter. There were plenty of bamboos in the neighbourhood, and with these we constructed a light and very convenient conveyance, with a roof, back, and sides. The greater part was formed of bamboo, and matting served as a cover to keep off the sun’s rays in the day-time, and the damp at night. We then had to train some bearers; for the people were unaccustomed to bear loads in the way a litter must be carried. Timbo employed his time, when not assisting me, in addressing his countrymen. When I asked him if he had succeeded in impressing on their minds any gospel truths—“Yes,” he said; “I sow leetle seed, but it grow up and bear fruit some of dese days. No fear; dat seed I sow nebber rot.”

Among the inhabitants of the village I recognised my three faithless attendants. The chief expressed himself very much ashamed at their having deserted me. They excused themselves by saying that they thought I had been made prisoner, and that they had run away to avoid sharing my fate. I replied that I was very glad they had got home safely, and that I harboured no ill-will towards them.

“I tell dem dat Christians ought to do good to deir enemies, so dey understand why you no beg de chief to kill dem,” observed Timbo.

At break of day we commenced our return journey. Our style of travelling was very different from what it had been during my former adventures. We had bearers for Natty, and also a party of armed men with shields and spears as a body-guard, and others carrying provisions, while we ourselves were mounted on strong steeds. For most of the time I rode near Natty, anxious to keep up his spirits. Now and then Timbo took my place. Stanley generally rode ahead; as, however, we had to proceed slowly, he frequently started off with the dogs to get some sport. He was, as usual, successful, and kept our pots well supplied. I told him he must look out, and not be caught by another rogue elephant.

“No fear of that,” he answered. “I keep my eye about me; and, in truth, I should rather enjoy being again chased. It is but fair, considering how fond I am of hunting animals, that I should occasionally be hunted in return.”

We had accomplished four days of our journey, when, early in the morning, Stanley was riding some distance ahead, and Timbo and I were keeping at the side of Natty’s litter. Natty was, I hoped, decidedly better. He was able to walk about every evening in the cool, and would sit at the camp-fire and join in conversation as well as any of us. We were passing along the edge of a wood, of which there were several scattered about in sight, though the country was generally open. A shorter way might have been found, perhaps, through the wood; but our black friends declined entering it, declaring that many lions lurked there, and urging us to be on the watch for them.

“I only wish some of them would come out,” observed Stanley. “I should like to carry home the hide of one, for I have lost all those I have killed.”

Stanley, as I have said, was a little in advance, keeping close to the wood, looking apparently into it in search of game, for he was as good a shot on horseback as on foot. Presently I saw his horse swerve on one side. With whip and spur he brought the animal again up to the wood. Just then there was a fearful roar. The horse again started on one side, the suddenness of his movement almost unseating his rider, whose cap was knocked off. The next moment a huge lion, breaking cover, sprang out of the wood with a tremendous bound, and alighted on the back of the horse, grasping Stanley with one of his tremendous claws. Stanley, leaning over his horse’s neck to avoid him, in vain attempted with his rifle to beat off the savage brute. To gallop to his rescue was the impulse of the moment. In another instant my cousin might be killed; for had he once been dragged from his horse, nothing could have prevented the lion seizing him between his powerful jaws, wide open at that moment to grasp him. The risk Stanley had run in the adventure with the elephant seemed as nothing compared to the awful danger in which he was now placed. Our horses, though not unaccustomed to carry their riders in chase of lions, trembled in every limb. The frightened blacks were about to fly, leaving Natty on the ground. I shouted to them to come back, when Timbo and I spurred on our horses towards my cousin. He caught sight of us coming.

“Fire! fire!” he shouted. “Kill the brute! Never mind though you hit me!”

I sprang from my horse, and just as I got my rifle to my shoulder, Stanley, with the lion still clinging to him, dashed by. It was not a moment to hesitate. If I failed to hit the lion, my cousin must be killed. I fired, and he and the lion fell from the back of the horse. My heart felt sick, for I thought he had been killed. The horse, freed from the grasp of the mighty brute, galloped off across the plain. My cousin lay on the ground, and I saw that the lion’s paw was still on him. I instantly began to reload. Timbo in the meantime had come up. What was my horror to see the lion, though wounded, working his way on towards Stanley’s body. I was afraid if I now fired of hitting him. Without a moment’s delay Timbo bravely rushed forward, shouting loudly, when the lion, raising himself on his fore-feet, and crouching down, prepared to make his deadly spring. Timbo stood firm as a rock. I fired. For an instant I saw the lion in the air; but the next he rolled over, not two feet from the brave black. I rushed up to Stanley. As I approached, he lifted himself on his arm, greatly to my relief.

“He nearly did for me; but I believe I am less hurt than I supposed!” he exclaimed.

However, even as he spoke, he sank back again. I knelt down by his side. The lion’s claws had inflicted a fearful wound on his shoulder, and his hip also appeared to be greatly torn. Timbo, having ascertained that the lion was dead, now came up to assist me in supporting his master. Fortunately we had brought some spirits. I shouted to the blacks to come on with Natty and our goods, and as soon as possible poured a good portion of spirits and water down Stanley’s throat. Natty had got out of his palanquin and came towards us. Some of the blacks had, in the meantime, gone off to catch the horses. Poor Natty’s concern was very great at seeing what had occurred.

“O Captain Hyslop, you must be put into my litter!” he said; “I am sure I shall be able to ride, for I feel quite strong now.”

This indeed seemed the only way of conveying Stanley.

“But suppose I go on, and bring up Massa David,” said Timbo. “Dat is de best t’ing.”

I agreed with him. Having washed Stanley’s wounds, and bound them up as well as I was able, with Timbo’s assistance, we placed him in the litter; while Natty mounted my horse, I agreeing to walk by his side. The blacks having caught the horses, Timbo set off, leading Stanley’s steed, in order that David might ride back on it to his brother’s assistance. We then proceeded at a somewhat slower pace than before, the bearers finding a great difference between my strongly-built cousin and poor young Natty. As may be supposed, we kept a very strict watch at night, lest we might be visited by another lion. Stanley did his utmost to keep up his spirits; but from the fearful laceration he had suffered, his nervous system was greatly shaken, and he often relapsed into a state almost of unconsciousness. Natty, however, with the air and exercise, recovered his strength, and every day looked better. I was very thankful when, towards the end of the next day, I caught sight of two objects moving over the plain towards us. Gradually, as they approached, I made out two horsemen, and in a little time David and Timbo galloped up to our camp. Timbo’s anxiety about his master had probably made him describe the wound as worse than it was, and David was in a state of great agitation when he arrived. He, however, after examining his brother’s hurts, expressed a hope that they would soon get well, and complimented me greatly on the way I had treated him. Still, I was very glad that David had arrived; for, in consequence of the constant state of stupor into which Stanley had fallen, I began to feel very anxious about him.

We continued to travel on at a very slow pace, as Stanley could not bear any shaking. Three days more therefore passed away before we came in sight of the camp.

I had never before seen my cousin Kate so much out of spirits, and it was not till two or three days after our arrival, when Stanley was found to be progressing favourably, that she was at all herself again. To me, however, she was always kind and gentle.

Chapter Twenty Five.

Hunting Adventures—Journey across the Desert.

In spite of Mr Donald Fraser’s expostulations, Senhor Silva would not consent to break up the camp till Stanley was in a fit state to travel. The honest trader, however, had no cause to complain, for he was driving a brisk trade, not only with our friends from Kabomba, but with the people of a number of neighbouring villages. Some he visited in a light cart, which accompanied the waggons, and a considerable number came to us. We had not forgotten the elephant’s tusks, which Timbo had hid, and as soon as he believed his master was out of danger, he set off with one of the horses to bring them into camp. The elephant itself had long since disappeared, its skeleton alone whitened the prairie; but the tusks were safe, and were safely bestowed in the waggon, in part payment of our debt.

One morning our oxen, which were feeding near, suddenly started off in every direction, leaping, twisting, and turning about, and cutting the most ridiculous capers. They looked as if they had been seized with Saint-Vitus’s-dance. On running towards them I discovered that a large flock of birds were clinging to their backs—three or four on each animal. Having my gun in my hand, I shot one, when I found that it was the same bird which I had seen on the back of the rhinoceros. Senhor Silva, who arrived laughing heartily at the commotion among our animals, told me that the bird is called the Buphaga Africana. Its object in thus taking possession of the backs of the cattle is for the purpose of feeding on the ticks with which they are covered. They have particularly long claws and elastic tails, which enable them thus to cling to the hide, and to search every part of the beast, in spite of its efforts to get rid of them. When animals are accustomed to these birds they appear rather grateful for the visitation; but Mr Fraser’s oxen had apparently never experienced a similar visitation, and were therefore considerably astonished at being thus unceremoniously assailed. By degrees, however, when they found that they could not throw them off, and that nothing very terrible happened, the oxen remained quiet, and were probably much more comfortable from being delivered from their parasitic pests.

The necessity of supplying our camp with meat compelled us frequently to go out shooting. We greatly missed, on these occasions, Stanley’s unerring rifle. Our party generally consisted of Senhor Silva, Timbo, and myself; but sometimes Mr Fraser took Senhor Silva’s place; and he was, I must say, the best shot of the party. We had been unsuccessful, however, on several occasions, and though there was no famine in the camp, we had very little meat fit to eat; while our black attendants were beginning to grumble greatly at being placed on short commons. This made us more than ever anxious to get some game. We had scoured the country towards the south for some distance, and falling in with no animals, we were induced to proceed further off than usual. The country over which we were passing was a fine undulating plain. Now and then there were dips of sufficient depth to conceal us from each other, for we rode apart in order to cover a wider extent of ground. My companions were not in sight. I had reached a slight elevation, when I saw in the distance a herd of large animals. At first I took them for buffaloes; but their movements soon convinced me that they were of the antelope species. The wind fortunately came from them, and I determined, without waiting for my friends, to endeavour to bring one of them down. I galloped on, till, to my delight, I saw before me an immense herd of the large eland, as they are called, or, more properly speaking, “cana.” In stature they are equal to a good-sized horse. Their horns are long and spiral. The form of the creatures before me was massive, their tails terminating in tufts. I had never possessed much of the spirit of a hunter; but the necessity of obtaining food made me as eager as any professional hunter could be to bring down one of the fine animals. I put spurs to my horse, and galloped on, getting my rifle ready in the meantime to fire immediately I could obtain a fair shot. The creatures for some time did not see me, and not till I was close upon them did they take the alarm. Near me was a fine large buck. I had seldom fired from horseback; but my animal was steady, and I determined to make the attempt. I took aim, and, greatly to my satisfaction, struck the creature near the shoulder, and over he went. Seeing that he was utterly disabled, I dismounted from my horse, and gave him a merciful thrust, which deprived him of life. Immediately reloading, I again leaped on my horse’s back, and made chase after the herd, which had now got to some distance. However, I found that I was coming up fast with them, and in a short time another fat animal lay rolling on the turf.

Wishing for the assistance of my companions in cutting up my prize, I rode to the nearest height in the hope of seeing them. I cast my eyes round in every direction. They were nowhere visible. I began to fear that they had gone in a different direction. I shouted with all my might, thinking that one or the other of them might be concealed in some hollow, and that my voice might reach them. I could only carry a part of the elands. After waiting awhile, I rode back to where I had killed the last. Already several birds of prey were hovering about. I scared them off, however, by my shouts; and then passing the bridle of my horse round my arm, I began in a very unscientific way to dismember the noble beast I had killed. I did not like the employment; at the same time, it was necessary to secure the meat. I had been for some time thus employed, when I heard the sound of wings close above me, and looking up, saw, with a feeling of no small alarm, a flight of kites hovering near my head. My horse, too, not liking their appearance, started back; and not without reason, for they might quickly have torn out his eyes with their powerful beaks and claws. I shouted, and waved and clapped my hands. They retired to a short distance, but only to come on again with renewed fierceness, seizing pieces of the meat and flying off with them. I determined, however, not to be defeated; and standing by the body of the eland, struck out right and left with my knife. Some literally fell back on the ground, spreading out their wings and talons and opening their beaks to defend themselves. My determined onslaught on them, however, compelled the first batch to beat a retreat; but another immediately took their place, pouncing down as the others had done on the carcass. I knocked over two or three, and the second party retreated, a third, strange to say, immediately afterwards coming on to the attack; but they had become so wary that I was unable to reach them. Still, as they kept about me, I expected every moment that they would assail my head, and I could not help feeling how fearful would be my position if they did so. At last I determined to try the effect of my rifle, which I had not loaded after my last shot—a neglect which might have proved extremely disastrous had any savage beast appeared. I loaded with shot. In consequence of my shouts and cries, and repeated blows made at the birds, they retired once more to a short distance. The next time they approached I fired into their midst, and a couple fell to the ground, and others were wounded. Still the army kept their ground. Seeing the effects of the first shot, I loaded again, and as they came hovering close to me, I fired once more, with the same success. Greatly to my satisfaction, on discovering that they could not obtain their feast without greater loss than it was worth, the whole army flew off, not appearing to stop while they remained in sight.

Thus being rid of my unwelcome visitors, I returned to my occupation; remembering, however, first to reload my rifle with ball, lest a hyena, panther, or lion might scent the dead eland and come to banquet off it. I had some leathern straps with me for the purpose of securing any animal I might kill, and with these I fastened to my saddle as much meat as my horse could carry. I was sorry to leave any part behind, knowing how much it was wanted in the camp. I now turned the horse’s head towards the camp, intending to pass by the eland I had shot. As I approached, I saw some objects moving over the ground towards it. At that distance I could not tell what they were. They might be lions or panthers. If lions, I might probably have to do battle for my prize. I could not help thinking, too, of the way Stanley had been handled. It was not impossible that they would attack me, and get me and my horse, and the meat into the bargain. Knowing that on such occasions boldness is always the best policy, I rode forward, and in a short time distinguished three spotted hyenas stealing up towards the body of the eland. I determined to prevent them having their feast, or spoil it if I could not. So eager were they to seize their prize that they did not notice me. As they drew nearer they hastened their pace, and then made a dash at the carcass. At that moment, putting spurs to my horse, I dashed on towards them shouting and shrieking. They received me with loud snarls, appearing in no way disposed to take their departure. Not till I got close up to them did they retreat, snarling and grinning horribly at me. The scent of the meat had undoubtedly sharpened their appetites, and they certainly looked capable of making a spring and trying to carry away some of the joints. On this I charged them, and they retreated still further off.

I saw that unless I could find my friends, we should have no prospect of saving any of the meat. I therefore looked round again, and thinking that the sound of my rifle might attract them, I fired it at the nearest brute. Over the animal fell, and his companions scampered off to avoid a similar fate. As there was no object in delaying longer, I once more directed my horse’s head towards the camp. Not till I had got to some distance did I catch sight of Donald Fraser and Timbo. They instantly galloped back, in the hope of being in time to secure the venison, and I proceeded at a slow pace, which the heavy weight my horse carried made necessary. I was still at some little distance when they overtook me, saying they had been too late. A number of birds and beasts of prey had set on the carcass, and devoured the greater portion. However, the supply I brought was doubly welcome. As it would only afford enough food for a day’s consumption, we agreed to set out again immediately, in the hope of falling in with another herd of elands. The importance of obtaining food was very great. Mr Fraser’s attendants were already grumbling at their short allowance, and he was afraid that they would desert him, and leave us to make our way alone. He also was glad of an excuse for moving southward. We had been out a considerable part of the day without being able to get up to any herd, though we saw one or two in the distance. I was talking to my companions, when, looking up, I saw before us what seemed like a dark cloud moving through the air at no great distance above the earth.

“What can that be?” I exclaimed, pointing it out to Mr Fraser.

“I will tell you presently,” he said. “I fear it bodes us no good!”

The cloud, as I may call it, now seemed to rise higher in the air, in the same compact body as it at first appeared. Then it suddenly sank and dispersed into smaller portions. Now again it united, again to spread and to rise, very much with the appearance of huge columns of sand whirled up by the wind. On it came towards us.

“I will tell you what it is now,” said Mr Fraser. “That is a flight of locusts. Woe betide the spot they select as a resting-place!”

As he spoke it appeared as if a heavy snow-storm had begun, for the locusts, as they alighted on the ground, looked exactly like huge snow-flakes. Several thousands might have fallen round us; still the whole mass seemed in no way diminished, and on they flew, the noise of their wings sounding like that produced by a gale of wind whistling through the rigging of a ship at anchor. On and on we rode, but still the mighty mass of winged insects advanced. Far as the eye could reach, they appeared hovering in the air. We pushed on for some miles, hoping to get beyond them; but the same dark cloud appeared before us. Not an animal was to be seen. We turned to the left and galloped on, but still could not get clear of the mighty column.

“There will be small chance of our meeting with any game to-day, I suspect,” observed Donald, pulling up and looking round him. “It will fare hard, too, with our poor cattle, I am thinking, for these hungry creatures will make sad havoc in the camp if they pitch on it, and the surrounding country too.”

Still, I urged that by pushing on we might fall in with a herd of deer, one or more of which would pay us for our long ride, and supply our larder with the much-needed flesh. We rode forward, hoping yet to fall in with some game. Still we were as unsuccessful as at first. We had gone some distance, when we came upon masses of creatures of a reddish colour with dark markings. In some places they covered the ground in layers two or three inches thick. Mr Fraser told me they were the larvae of the locusts, which the Dutch people at the Cape call voet-gangers—literally, foot-goers. Some were seen hopping among the grass, devouring it with extraordinary rapidity.

“What do you think, Mr Crawford, of the fruit on those bushes?” said Donald to me, pointing to some shrubs, from which hung what I took to be clusters of magnificent fruit.

Hiding forward, I plucked some. My astonishment was great to find that they were merely the larva; of the locusts hanging to the boughs. So thickly did they cover the branches, that they literally bowed them down to the ground. He told me that these creatures are especially dreaded by the colonists, as it is impossible to stop their progress, and they eat up every green thing in their way. They cross rivers or pools; for though the leaders are drowned, the others pass over the bridge thus formed by their bodies. Even fires, which are sometimes lighted in the hope of stopping their progress, are put out by the countless masses which crawl over them.

It was dark before we reached the camp. We rode together, keeping a sharp look-out, in case we might have been followed by any prowling inhabitant of the wilds. As we drew near the camp, a bright blaze appeared from one side to the other, and I could not help being alarmed at the thought that the waggon and tents, surrounded by dry grass, might have caught fire. Mr Fraser, however, quickly calmed my fears.

“Our people, I suspect, are having a feast,” he observed. “It is an ill wind that blows no one good; and if the locusts have eaten up the cattle’s fodder, our people are engaged in eating up the locusts.”

On entering the camp, we found all the blacks busily employed round the large fires which they had lighted. They were scraping together vast quantities of locusts which, passing through the flames, had scorched their wings, and fallen helplessly to the ground. Even Senhor Silva, and David, and the boys, were engaged in the work. In a short time they had collected enormous heaps of the insects, when the blacks began to roast and eat them as if they were the most delicate morsels. If they would support existence, there was no fear of our starving. I was tempted to taste some, but cannot say that I found them very palatable. As soon as the fires had burned low, the blacks set to work to dry the locusts in the hot ashes. Then obtaining some large flat stones from the river, they ground a number between them into powder, which they stowed away in all the receptacles capable of holding it.

Next morning, by daybreak, the neighbourhood of the camp was beset by numberless birds, among which I distinguished storks and kites, and soon perceived that they were employed in gobbling up the locusts. The most numerous, however, were small birds about the size of swallows. Mr Fraser told me this was a species of thrush which constantly follows the locusts, and is said even to build its nest and rear its young in their midst. He called it by its Dutch name—Springhaan oogel. David said he knew it as the locust bird. We shot a number; and though we were not tempted to feed on locusts, we had no objection to breakfast off the result of our sport. The fires had partly saved the camp itself; fortunately so, for the locusts will not only eat grass, but every animal produce which comes in their way. Leathern thongs, even boots, shoes, and bags, have been destroyed by them. I saw a number also feeding on their own companions, which we had trampled on as we passed through them. No sooner had the warm rays of the sun been cast across the plain, than, with a loud whirring sound, the locusts rose in the air. Notwithstanding the number which had been destroyed, the mass appeared in no way diminished in size. Onwards they flew to their unknown destination; but what a scene of desolation met our eyes across the country on which they had rested! For miles, as Donald had feared, not a blade of grass was to be seen. As far as the eye could reach, where the evening before the ground had been green and smiling, it now looked brown and parched up, as if a fierce fire had passed over it.

“If we cannot move from here, we must just make up our minds to remain for ever,” observed Donald, “for without food—and not a particle of grass do I see in any direction—the poor cattle will soon be starved to death. We must see Senhor Silva and your cousin David, and hear what they say.”

Soon afterwards we were joined by David, and in reply to Mr Fraser’s remarks, he said he hoped that Stanley was sufficiently recovered to bear the fatigue of travelling in the waggon. I undertook to arrange a bed slung from the roof, by which any jolting might be avoided. Calling Jack Handspike to my assistance, we soon contrived a comfortable cot for my cousin.

Meantime every arrangement was made for starting. The oxen were harnessed to the huge machine; Kate and Bella took their seats by the side of their brother. The word was given to move on. The Hottentot drivers smacked their huge whips, and the lumbering waggon was put in motion. Natty and Leo had greatly recovered; but that they might not be fatigued, room was also made for them inside. Donald and Senhor Silva mounted their horses, and David and I agreed to take one between us. When he rode, I was to walk, or mount an ox. The rest of the party proceeded on foot, or on the oxen. Far as the eye could reach, nothing but brown earth and leafless shrubs and trees could be seen; the ravaging hordes of locusts had cleared off every particle of verdure from the ground. North and south, east and west, the country had become a barren wilderness. The prospect for our poor oxen was a melancholy one. We could only push on therefore as fast as they could travel, in the hope of speedily getting beyond the ravaged country. Our friend Donald looked very grave. All day long we travelled on. The cattle began to show signs of thirst. We ourselves were also suffering from want of water, as we were afraid of exhausting the small supply we had brought in our bottles. At length some rocks appeared ahead, near which Donald told us was a pool. The cattle seemed to be aware of it, and eagerly moved on; but as we got near, no bright gleam, such as gladdens the sight of the thirsty traveller, played on the spot. On arriving at it, a mass of locusts and their larvae were alone visible, completely filling the space where the water should have been.

Our men immediately set to work, and literally dug them out and threw them in masses on the shore. We ourselves could not have drunk a drop. The pool seemed filled with a thick, muddy, and putrid liquid. The cattle, however, when let loose, rushed down to it and drank eagerly, though I was afraid it would produce disease among them. Poor creatures! if there was nourishment in it, it was the only food they got; for that night we had to camp without water for ourselves or fodder for them.

Chapter Twenty Six.

Crossing the Desert.

Many days had passed by, during which the usual incidents of African travel had occurred; but I need not stop to describe them, except to say that Mr Fraser had been successful in killing several elephants, which he did for the sake of their tusks, and also in purchasing a large quantity of ivory from the natives who visited our camp to trade, or inhabited the villages near which we passed. Thus he had no reason to complain of the long journey he had made to rescue us, although we were not the less inclined to be grateful to him.

The country ravaged by the locusts had been passed at last, but not till our cattle were almost starved, and we and they had suffered greatly from want of water. The dried and pounded locusts had assisted to support our people, but we were now greatly in want of provisions. Stanley had borne the journey remarkably well, and was rapidly recovering from the hurts inflicted upon him by the lion; while Leo and Natty were completely themselves again. Stanley was very anxious once more to mount his horse and to assist in hunting, in order to supply the camp with food; but of this David would not hear, and declared that it would be equivalent to fratricide if he allowed it. Donald, Timbo, and I, and sometimes Senhor Silva, therefore scoured the country in every direction in search of game. Donald and I were riding on ahead one day, when he observed on a bush a fly somewhat smaller than the common blue-bottle fly—so annoying to the butcher—but with rather longer wings. Begging me to hold his horse, he jumped off and caught it. Instantly leaping into his saddle, he told me to turn and ride for my life, with an expression of consternation in his countenance which made me fancy that he had suddenly gone out of his mind. However, as we rode on he explained that the fly which he held in his fingers was the tsetse fly (David called it the Glossina morsitans), and that it was more dangerous to cattle and horses than all the lions and snakes in the country. Fortunately our horses had not been bitten by it. He told me that had such been the case their death would have been certain. It attacks, however, only domesticated animals, for wild beasts range over the country infested by it with impunity; while human beings are scarcely more annoyed by it than they are by flea-bites. It is confined to certain localities, and is never known to shift its haunts. He told me that it was found generally in the bush or among reeds. Though the insect is small, yet the poison it contains is of so virulent a nature that its bite is as deadly to horses and oxen as that of the most venomous serpent. Donald said he had ample reason to be afraid of it, for on one occasion, not believing in its power to injure him, he had attempted to pass through a district infested by it, when he lost all his oxen and horses, and very nearly his own life and that of his companions. They were in a wild and uninhabited district, and were barely able to secure provisions and water sufficient to support themselves, till they could obtain assistance. He said that four or five flies were sufficient to kill a full-grown ox. The animal, however, does not die so rapidly as when bitten by a snake. Sometimes, indeed, it exists for some weeks or months afterwards, gradually losing its strength, and perishing ultimately of exhaustion. Frequently, however, oxen die, especially should rain fall, soon after they are bitten. In the case of one of his horses which had been bitten, the head and body swelled, its eyes became so swollen that it could not see, and it was painful to hear it neighing for its companions, who stood close to it while feeding. A remarkable feature with regard to the poison of the tsetse is that calves, and other young sucking animals, are safe so long as they suck; but it has been remarked that dogs though reared on milk die if bitten, while a dog which was reared on the meat of game accompanied his master when hunting in the districts infested by the fly without suffering.

We had now entered a far more desolate-looking country than any we had yet passed through. Vast sandy plains extended round us, broken here and there by clumps of low bushes or coarse long grass, with occasional patches of more nutritious verdure, from which our oxen plucked their scanty meals. Still, occasionally, herds of deer passed us in the distance, but they were so wary that we could not approach them. The open nature of the country made stalking in the ordinary way impossible. Every night, however, Donald, accompanied by Timbo, spent two or three hours, and sometimes longer, in lying in ambush, hoping to get a shot at a passing animal, but their success had hitherto not been sufficient to supply us with as much meat as we required. Water too was very scarce. We had been travelling slowly all day, when our cattle began to move on with greater rapidity than before, evidently believing that water was near. Donald was riding ahead, looking about him, when suddenly he and his horse disappeared. I was at no great distance behind him, and before I could pull up I was very nearly following. I found that he had slid down into a large sand-well, some twenty feet in diameter at the top, and upwards of twelve feet in depth. As soon as he was extricated from the pit, the men were called with spades to clear it out. However, after digging some time, no water flowed into it, though the bottom became thoroughly moist. We fortunately had some long reeds with us. These were sunk into the sand, and immediately water began to rise. We quickly got enough to quench the thirst of the people, but we had to wait some time before a supply could be procured for the cattle. As soon as water had been given to the horses, Timbo set out in search of game. We were as unfortunate as we had usually been of late. Perhaps this might have arisen from our want of skill. Donald was an inferior hunter to Stanley, and had he been well, we should have met with more success. Timbo was riding near me, when I found him eagerly examining the sand on one side. Without saying a word he jumped from his horse, and began scraping away. Presently he produced a huge egg, then another, and another.

“Dere!” he exclaimed; “we no want food now. See, here are anoder dozen! Dey eggs of ostrich!”

I looked into the nest, and saw that the eggs were arranged with their ends uppermost, to occupy, I concluded, as small a space as possible.

“But, Timbo,” I said, “do you think they are fresh, for otherwise I fear they would be of little use?”

“Oh yes,” he said; “de hen-ostrich only just laid dem. See! see! dere she is, too, watching us!”

At that moment a loud roar saluted my ears. Instantly unslinging my rifle, I prepared to fire, believing that a lion was about to attack us, so similar was the voice to that of the king of beasts in a rage; but on looking round I could see no lion, but instead I caught sight, in the distance, of a huge long-necked bird, which I knew must be an ostrich, evidently observing with anxiety the visit we were paying to her nest. She had gone away, Timbo said, to feed, or otherwise we should probably have found her sitting, as the flamingoes do, with her legs astraddle above it. The poor bird did not attempt to fly, and accordingly gave us time to secure the eggs in a way which we hoped would prevent their being broken. Donald had by this time come up, and telling Timbo to take charge of the eggs, started with me in chase of the ostrich. As we approached the bird, under the idea perhaps of leading us from her eggs, or alarmed, more probably, she set off at full speed. It seemed hopeless, however, to me that we should ever catch her. Away she flew, at first with small strides, increasing every instant, and extending her wings like sails. Her feet scarcely seemed to touch the ground, and yet we could see huge stones thrown up behind her, flying into the air. “On, lad! on!” shouted Donald. “We will weary her out this hot day. She will slacken her pace soon, and we may turn her maybe towards Timbo, if we do not run her down.” Instead of pursuing directly in the wake of the bird, he turned on one side and I on the other; and at length she began, as he had expected, to slacken her tremendous speed. We were now moving up on parallel lines at some distance from her. At length we got ahead, when the bird, wheeling round, started back towards her nest. “Hurrah!” shouted Donald, “she is ours now!” Again we followed the mighty bird, never for a moment allowing her to stop. It seemed a question whether she or our horses would have to give in first. At length a patch of the candelabra-shaped tree euphorbia appeared in sight, and the hard-pressed ostrich darted towards it, endeavouring, it seemed, to force her way through. Pressing on, we were soon close to her, when Donald, raising his rifle, fired, and the bird fell over. I was galloping up, when he called to me. “Stand back! You might as well get near a dying lion! A kick from one of her feet would break your horse’s leg, and kill you, if you got within her reach.” In a few minutes the bird ceased to move, and jumping from our horses we approached. The ostrich must have been nearly eight feet in height, the feathers being of an ashy brown colour, slightly fringed with white. And now, for the first time, I saw those magnificent large plumes of beautiful white feathers which form the wings and tail of the bird. These the trader immediately began to pluck out with the greatest care, and having done so, secured them to our backs, where they were likely to be free from injury. He called me to assist him in hoisting the body up on his horse. It must have weighed upwards of two hundred pounds, no slight addition to the burden his tired steed had to bear.

On reaching Timbo we found that he had discovered another nest of eggs. With these I loaded myself, and well satisfied with our prizes we returned to the camp. “No starve now, Massa Andrew!” said Timbo, as he gave an affectionate glance at the huge eggs. As we rode up David and the two boys saluted us with shouts of laughter, at the extraordinary appearance we cut with the ostrich feathers sticking above our shoulders. Donald, I found, claimed them as his own property, and I did not wish to dispute the point, though I should have liked to have presented one to Kate and Bella. I could only hope to capture another bird without assistance. As soon as we had deposited our burdens, Timbo set to work to prepare the eggs. His process was a simple one. First, having made a hole at the end of the egg, he introduced into it salt, pepper, flour, and one or two other ingredients. He then shook the egg thoroughly, so as to mix what he had put in, as well as the white and yolk. He then placed the eggs he had thus prepared in the hot ashes, where they were soon perfectly baked. Meantime the other blacks, having skinned the bird, had cut it up, and began to roast it. We all quickly assembled round our usual supper-table—a cloth spread under an awning which projected a short distance from the waggon. The ostrich egg-omelets were pronounced excellent. Although it is said that the ostrich egg, prepared in the way I have described, is equal to that of two dozen common fowl eggs, Mr Donald Fraser managed to eat a couple; while I found no difficulty in swallowing the greater part of one of them. David, Kate, and Bella, however, expressed themselves perfectly satisfied with a single one divided among them.

As we were seated at our supper, various anecdotes were told of the ostrich. Donald said he had seen the Bushmen stalk them much in the same way that we had seen the blacks further north stalk the buffalo. The Bushman stuffs the head and neck of the ostrich, into which he introduces a stick, forming a sort of mantle for his shoulders with the feathers, so as greatly to resemble the bird. As his legs are black and the ostrich’s white, he paints his legs with white, and taking his bow and arrow in his hand, sets off for the chase. It is extraordinary how admirably he mimics the ostrich—now stops, as if to feed, then turns his head as if keeping a look-out for enemies. Now he walks along slowly, then trots, just as the ostrich does, till he gets within bow-shot. With seldom erring aim he then pulls his bow. Instead of following the bird he has struck, however, when the others run away, he runs also. Should any wary old bird suspect that all is not right, and come towards him, he endeavours to escape; but if the bird approaches him, to avoid a stroke of its claws, or a blow from its wing, he sometimes throws off his disguise, which he leaves on the ground, and runs away to a distance to be prepared to pull his bow. He generally uses poisoned arrows, dipped in the milky juice of the tree euphorbia. A slight wound from his weapon quickly brings the ostrich to the ground. Formerly, he told us, it was supposed that the ostrich left its eggs to be hatched in the sand by the heat of the sun, as cold-blooded reptiles are known to do, but this is not the case. The hen-ostrich sits upon her eggs with great care, and as soon as the young are hatched, provides them with nourishment; and as broken eggs are generally found outside the nest, it is supposed that she keeps a certain number unhatched, that she may feed the young birds on them. She generally hatches about a dozen eggs; but the Hottentots play her a trick to induce her to lay a larger number. As soon as they find out a nest, they watch till the bird has left it to go in search of food, and then scrape out with a long stick two or three at a time. On returning and finding the number she expected deficient, she lays enough to supply their place, and thus goes on from day to day, till she has laid upwards of forty in the season. Timbo asserted that not only does man wage war against the ostrich, but that a white vulture is particularly fond of her eggs. As his beak is not sufficiently strong to break the shell, he seizes a large stone between his talons, and soaring with it high into the air, gets over the nest; he then lets it drop upon the eggs, seldom failing to break a sufficient number to afford himself a repast. The young ostriches, when they emerge from the nest, are about the size of pullets. They are quickly able to follow the mother, who supplies them for a considerable time with food. Their colour is a kind of pepper and salt, resembling the gravel and sand of the plain over which they roam; so that it is with the greatest difficulty they can be seen by the hunter, even when close to them. They are clothed with a kind of prickly stubble, which is neither down nor feathers, and which probably defends them from the coarse vegetation and gravel which covers the region where they exist. The Romans called the ostrich the Struthio camelus, in consequence of its resemblance in many respects to the camel of the desert. The ostrich, like the camel, is able, from the formation of its interior, to exist for a long time without water, feeding on the stunted and dried herbage of the desert. Its foot is formed curiously, like that of the camel; and it has also excrescences on its breast, on which it leans whilst sleeping. To complete the likeness, it has the same muscular neck, which rises high above the plain, and enables it to perceive the approach of an enemy, while its body is out of sight.

We had already witnessed the care which a hen-ostrich takes of her nest, and Donald told us that one day he was riding along, when he came near a bird evidently sitting. She remained quiet till he advanced, when instantly she sprang up and rushed towards him, hissing violently. When he turned round, she retreated a dozen paces or so; but directly he rode on she again rushed after him, endeavouring by her hisses to frighten him off.

“Did you kill her, Mr Fraser, after her exhibition of maternal affection?”

“I did,” was the answer; “and got her feathers and her eggs, and I and my people ate her up afterwards. Necessity has no law, I know; and if a trader in these regions were to give way to sentiment, he might have to go back with an empty waggon.”

The ostrich has, properly speaking, only the rudiments of wings, which are utterly unable to lift it off the ground. It is, however, those magnificent white plumes in the tail and wings which assist it to run at the rapid rate I have described. Both male and female possess these white plumes. The body of the male differs from that of the female. It is of a deep glossy black, among which a few whitish feathers are mingled, but only visible when the plumage is ruffled.

While we were still talking about the ostrich, Leo started up, exclaiming, “See! see! there is one just outside the camp. Run for your gun, Andrew. You may get a shot at it.”

There, sure enough, was an object moving slowly towards us, apparently utterly fearless of the fire. Now it began to run exactly as the ostrich does. Now it stopped and bent its head as if to feed. Presently it stretched out its neck, and a loud roar, which sounded very like that of a lion, burst from its throat.

“Do not fire, Mr Crawford,” exclaimed Donald; “for if you do, you will be apt to hit a friend;” and he and Stanley burst into a loud laugh, echoed by Timbo and some of the black boys near us, and directly afterwards the seeming ostrich came trotting merrily into the camp. Some of Donald’s servants had been amusing themselves in forming such a disguise as I have already described, with the hope of catching a bird or more by means of it on the following day.

While the waggon proceeded onwards the next morning, our friend Donald again set out, accompanied this time by Chickango, to assist him in carrying home any game he might procure. They were to proceed on a line parallel with the caravan, while we ranged at a further distance. We went some little way together. We were about to separate, when, standing up, I caught sight of what I took to be the head of an ostrich in the distance, and we rode towards it. We had not got far when Donald exclaimed, “There is another! I hope there may be a family of them!” Directly afterwards we saw the female bird scampering away, and the male following at some little distance.

“I see no young birds,” I observed. “I think you must have been mistaken.”

“They are there, though, notwithstanding,” observed my companion. “I know it by the way they run. Depend upon it, they would be going twice as fast as that if they were alone.”

Putting our horses to their utmost speed, we at length nearly overtook the ostriches; and then I saw a number of little brown duckling-looking birds following at the heels of the female ostrich. Greatly to my surprise, the male ostrich at this moment stopped short, and then wheeling round, darted off on one side. As we were anxious to obtain the young as well as the mother, we continued our pursuit of her. On this he once more put on his utmost speed; but instead of going in a straight line, kept wheeling round and round us, using every effort to attract our attention. Instead of increasing, he decreased his circles, till he got within twenty yards of me, when, to my surprise, over he fell on the ground, and began to struggle desperately, and I thought he would easily be our prize. I therefore dashed forward; but quick as lightning he was on his legs again, running off in an opposite direction to that which the hen had taken. “You follow him, and I will go after the other,” exclaimed Donald, perhaps thinking, from some remarks that I had made, that I should not have the heart to knock over the mother and her young brood. I had ridden some way in chase of the male ostrich, when a bird appeared in the distance, towards which he immediately directed his course, fancying, perhaps, that it was his own hen and her young ones. He was a long way ahead of me, and I had lost all hope of overtaking him, for my horse was already beginning to pant with exertion, when the report of a rifle came from the direction where I saw the other bird, and immediately my chase rolled over on the sand, the stranger rushing towards him, while three black heads appeared from some low rocks a little way beyond. Poor fellow! He deserved a better fate! The stranger bird turned out to be one of Donald’s Hottentots, who, with his companions, had been fortunately in the right direction to intercept him. I insisted on appropriating the tail of the bird, asserting that the Hottentots would not have killed him had I not chased him up to them.

My horse being by this time well tired, we set off to overtake the waggon. Late in the day Donald arrived with the hen-ostrich over his saddle, his back and head ornamented with the feathers, and half a dozen young birds hanging from the crupper.

“Well, he does cut a curious figure!” exclaimed Leo, who saw Donald approaching. “If I had seen him for the first time, I should have taken him to be a fledged centaur—a mixture of man, quadruped, and bird.”

Donald was inclined to claim the feathers I had appropriated; but Senhor Silva coming to my support, it was agreed that they were mine by right of conquest; and I had the satisfaction of presenting them to my fair cousins—the first trophies of the chase which I had deemed worthy of their acceptance.

We obtained, during the following days, a further supply of ostrich eggs, which, with the birds we had killed, gave us as much food as we required. We found it, when moving forward, very necessary to be careful not to deviate from the right course. Frequently over the country where there were no tracks, and often no landmarks, this was very difficult. Often it was a long day’s journey from one fountain or pool to the next spot where water could be procured, and we knew well that without the necessary supply we and our cattle would suffer severely, even if we did not lose them altogether, in which case we should be involved in their destruction. Though I much enjoyed my gallops over the country, I was very thankful when Stanley was once more able to mount his horse; and I had, in consequence, generally to proceed on the back of one of the riding oxen, with Natty or Leo behind me. We were now able to carry far more water than usual. I should have said that the ostrich eggs were never broken. Their contents were extracted through a hole in one end, and were carefully surrounded by a basket-work of reeds, thus forming complete, and tolerably strong, bottles. At each fountain we came to they were re-filled.

“We have a long day’s journey before us,” observed Mr Fraser one morning as we were inspanning, as the colonists call yoking, the oxen to the waggon; “and I wish I was sure that we should find water at the end of it. We have not enough left for the oxen, as we must keep all we have for the horses and ourselves.”

He looked graver than usual, and not without reason. The heat was very great, and we had a wide extent of country before us, the soil consisting of light-coloured soft sand, which appeared incapable of producing any green thing for the support of animals. Pass it, however, we must, as it extended right across our path to the south, far away to the east, from the very coast of the Atlantic. Notwithstanding this, our party were in good spirits, from feeling that we were now making steady progress towards home.

“We have encountered so many dangers, and escaped them, that we should not mistrust the willingness of the kind hand of Providence to protect us to the end of our journey,” observed Kate.

Her calm confidence gave us all courage, and we resolved not to allow any anticipation of evil to oppress us. Kate had never relaxed in her resolution to instruct Bella under all difficulties, and the greater part of the day they sat in the waggon with their books before them, or their work in their hands, labouring away as diligently as they would have done in their home in the colony. Leo and Natty were far more idle, though they occasionally took their seats near the young ladies, and either read to them, or listened to their reading. The Bible was their chief book, and happily its stores are inexhaustible. The other works they had read over and over again, till they declared that they could no longer look at them with patience. The heat was so great, that we were compelled to camp during the middle of the day, finding that we could make more progress by travelling early in the morning and again in the evening.

We had travelled on since daylight, when a group of trees, which are found here and there even on the desert, gladdened our eyes. We unyoked our weary oxen beneath them, and sought such shelter as their branches would afford; but not a drop or sign of water was to be seen round them. It seemed surprising how they could exist in that arid spot. Fires were lighted to cook the remnant of our provisions, though they also had fallen very short. We were seated at our meal, when Stanley started up, exclaiming, “We must have some of those fellows! Who will come with me?” He pointed eastward—the quarter whence the wind blew—and there I saw, moving slowly over the plain, and cropping the scanty herbage as they went, a large herd of antelopes.

“I will,” I said, “if I can have a horse.”

“You shall have mine,” said Senhor Silva.

“I must go with you!” exclaimed Donald Fraser, gulping down the largest part of the contents of an ostrich egg.

Donald having giving directions for the caravan to move on, and appointed their halting—place, we mounted our horses, intending to meet it there at night, and galloped off towards the herd. I imitated my companions’ attitude of leaning down, so as to conceal my head as much as possible, that we might get near without alarming the herd, keeping to leeward. Some time passed before they were aware of our approach.

“They are hartbeests,” said Donald, “and will give us a good chase; but we may get within shot of them at last.”

There was no shelter which would enable us to stalk them, and we therefore had to trust to their not taking alarm at the appearance of our horses. We rode on and on, and every instant I expected to see them start off, and scamper away fleet as the wind. They were noble-looking animals, with large horns rising on a line with their foreheads, and then bending curiously backwards. We rode on till we got within a hundred yards of them, when a wary old buck caught sight of us, and, suspicious of evil, gave the alarm to his companions.

“On, boys, on!” cried Donald, who had been watching for their expected start to put his horse at full speed. On we dashed, the hartbeests going away directly from the camp. They kept close together, somewhat impeding each other. They were now thoroughly alarmed, and away they went at a speed which it at first appeared would make it utterly impossible for us to come up with them. Not so, however, thought Stanley and Donald Fraser. Our horses seemed to enter into our wishes, and exerted themselves to the utmost. On kept the herd, throwing the dust up behind them, which rose in the air like clouds of smoke. After an hour’s flight they began to slacken their speed, while our horses, urged on by our spurs, redoubled theirs. At last we got within a hundred yards of the hard-pressed herd. Stanley quickly threw himself from his horse, and firing, a fine buck flew up into the air; and the next moment, parting from the main body of the herd, darted off to the right; while Donald, aiming at another animal, brought it to the ground. I fired directly afterwards; but so excited had I become by the chase and ride, that I suspect my bullet flew over the heads of the animals.

“Mount and ride after that fellow, Andrew!” exclaimed Stanley, pointing to the hartbeest he had wounded.

I did as he directed me, while he and Donald Fraser, throwing themselves on their horses, again made chase after the herd. The wounded animal fled away by itself, and though evidently, by the flow of blood from its side, severely hurt, it yet continued springing forward at a rapid rate. Determined not to let it go, I urged on my horse in pursuit. At length, greatly to my satisfaction, for my horse was nearly done up, over the hartbeest rolled; and, springing from my saddle, I put an end to its sufferings. When I looked round, neither the herd nor my companions were to be seen. A long chase in that hot sun had made me very thirsty, and not a drop of water had I with me. I was hungry too, for I had only just begun my breakfast; though, if content to eat raw meat, I had the means of satisfying my appetite. The animal was so heavy that I could not lift it on my horse; and yet I did not like to leave it to be devoured by hyenas and jackals, or other beasts of prey, which it would, I knew, inevitably be very shortly, should I go away. I therefore waited and waited, hoping to see my companions return. I thought I remembered pretty accurately the direction I had come; but the clump of trees was but a small object to guide me over that extensive plain, on which, too, I knew that similar clumps existed. At length, not seeing my friends, I decided to load my horse with a portion of the antelope, and to try and find my way back to the camp. I had, as I mentioned, suffered greatly from thirst before, but it did not equal the pain I was now enduring. Not only did my mouth and throat feel dried up, but my whole stomach; and faint and hungry as I was, though I had an abundance of food with me, and might have collected grass and twigs enough to cook a portion, yet I could not swallow a particle. I felt growing weaker and weaker, and my head became so dizzy and my eyes so dim that I could not distinguish objects clearly before me. I began to fear that I had received a sunstroke, for the heat was greater than any I had yet experienced. I knew the fatal effects which might follow. Still, I managed to stick to my horse and ride on.

I had gone a considerable distance, and was trying to discover the wished-for clump of trees, when my eyes fell on a glittering pool of water, some way off to the left. I had not forgotten my experience when before wandering in search of water; but I was convinced that I could not be mistaken. By its side I saw several clumps of trees, and could even distinguish their reflection on the calm surface of the lake. The spectacle revived my spirits, and I urged on my horse, hoping soon to quench my thirst, and put an end to the suffering I was enduring. He too seemed equally eager to reach the lake. I was surprised that Donald had not known of it, as he certainly would have moved there instead of pushing on to the well, where he had doubts of finding water. I confess that had any one told me that what I saw before me was not water, I should have trusted my own senses rather than his assertion, and still gone on towards it. Bitter, therefore, was my disappointment, when in a short time I found myself standing on the margin of what I took to be a lake, but which was merely a dry basin incrusted with saline particles, which gave it, with the assistance of the existing mirage, thus exactly the appearance of water. I turned away, suffering even more than before from the fearful thirst which oppressed me. Still, I had been aroused, and I hoped to be able to return to the camp before being quite overcome. After going some distance, however, my spirits again sank, and I could scarcely sit my horse. In another moment I believe I should have fallen, when I saw a plant trailing along the ground, with large leaves, and among them a large melon-like fruit. Yes, there before me was a water-melon! I threw myself from my horse, and eagerly taking out my knife, cut a huge slice. Oh! how deliciously cool and refreshing it was! I let the juice trickle over my throat and down my mouth. I felt that I could never eat enough of it; it seemed to cool me even far more rapidly than water would have done. I did not forget my poor steed. He put down his head towards the fruit, part of which lay on the ground; and he seemed to relish it quite as much as I did. Having eaten my fill of the melon, I felt greatly relieved. My horse, too, had leisure to devour as much as he would. After riding on a little distance, I saw another fruit of the same appearance. I felt an inclination for a further supply; for when once the throat has become so dry as mine was, the sensation of thirst very quickly returns. I cut a slice, but the first mouthful I took made me throw it from me. It was perfectly bitter; so bitter, that even had I not tasted the previous one. I do not think I could have eaten it. My horse also, after licking it, refused to eat it. I tried another; that was equally bitter. I cut a third and a fourth; they had the same unpleasant taste. My horse also refused to touch them. I began to fancy that I had discovered the only sweet one. Still I persevered, and soon came upon another which was as delicious as the first. Three or four others were of the same character. My horse eagerly devoured them. Though loaded with meat, I could not refrain from adding several water-melons to my burden; and, thoroughly revived, set off in good spirits towards the camp.

Chapter Twenty Seven.

Assailed by Foes, but rescued by Friends—Conclusion.

I rode on and on, but still saw no signs of the camp. Had it not been for the water-melons, I must inevitably have perished. Darkness came down over the dreary waste, making it appear still more desolate. I trusted that my steed would find his way to the camp, for I could no longer direct him with any degree of certainty. The stars shone brightly overhead; yet, as I did not know the exact bearings of the camp, they would only enable me to keep a direct line, and that might lead me far on one side or the other. Still, I should be prevented from going round in a circle, as travellers who have lost their way are apt to do, to find themselves after many hours at the spot from which they started. Every now and then I stood up in my stirrups, looking out eagerly for the camp-fire. Not a glimmer of light could I see. Dangers beset me also, I knew—old sand-wells and pitfalls might be in my path. Lions also, attracted by the smell of the meat I carried, might follow and seize me. I kept my rifle and hunting-knife ready for immediate use, while I cast an anxious look round me, every moment trying to pierce the gloom, lest some beast of prey might be stealthily approaching. It was a trying time. It would have been worse had I been suffering as before from thirst. At last I began to fear that I must have passed the camp altogether. I determined to halt, and was looking about for a bush or some rock or slight elevation under which I might form my camp, when I found my horse’s fore-feet sinking into the ground. I had great difficulty in keeping my seat; but immediately rearing up, he sprang forward. The effort was vain, however, for his feet alighted only on treacherous ground, and down he sank into a large cavity. I made an attempt to spring off his back, but the ground gave way, and I found myself sinking down with him several feet below the surface. He kicked and plunged, and very nearly struck me. I managed, however, once more to get upon his back; and in a short time, finding that his efforts to get out were hopeless, he remained quiet. I had fallen into one of the holes I had dreaded. Even if I could get out myself, there was no chance of extricating my horse, and I should have to find my way to the camp on foot. The loss, too, of the horse would be a serious matter. I was as likely also to be attacked by a lion or hyena as I should have been on the level ground; for though the wild beast, if he got in, might not be able to get out again, I should nevertheless become his prey. The poor horse could with difficulty stand, and every now and then tried to change his uncomfortable position. To relieve him, I got off and stood as well as I was able, keeping my rifle ready for immediate use.

Time went slowly by. Though tired and even drowsy, I could not have gone to sleep, even had I wished it, in my uncomfortable position. I could see the stars overhead; but how deep down I was I could not well judge. It was a depth, I feared, from which I should have great difficulty, even in daylight, in scrambling out. Now and then, indeed, the dread came over me that I should be unable to do so; for the sides were of such soft sand that when I attempted to climb up it gave way below my feet, while there was sand alone at which I could grasp. I passed my time in devising plans for getting out; but I could not help acknowledging that the best of them were not likely to succeed. I might scrape the sand down, and thus, filling up the hollow, gradually rise to the surface; but there was danger of the mass above my head sliding down and overwhelming me.

These unpleasant reflections were presenting themselves to my mind, when I saw, against the sky, a huge head projecting over the edge. I could not be mistaken. It was that of a lion. In another instant he might spring down upon me. My only hope of escape was to fire immediately, and drive him off. Even then I dreaded that he might topple over when shot, and destroy me in his dying struggles. I raised my rifle and fired. A fearful roar was the answer to the sound of my piece. Scarcely daring to look up, I began loading again as rapidly as I could; for even then I feared that the monster would spring down. Roar succeeded roar. It seemed to me that it was echoed far and near by other lions. I waited for some time, but still no creature appeared. I began to hope that my shot had driven them away.

Once more I began to suffer from thirst; and cutting up a water-melon, I took part of it myself, and gave a portion to my poor steed, who showed his gratitude by licking my hand. I waited for some time, wishing for the return of day. Except when my horse made a movement, not a sound for many minutes together reached me. Then the distant roar of a lion might be heard, or the barks of hyenas or jackals. Suddenly I heard the sound of feet, as if a troop of antelopes was passing by. I hoped that they might not inadvertently tumble in on me. To scare them away I began to shout. I kept on, raising my voice to the utmost. To my surprise a shout came in return.

“Hillo! Where are you?”

I recognised Stanley’s voice. I soon let him know. Presently I saw his head and Donald’s projecting over the pit.

“A bad job for the horse, though we may soon get you out. But you must be almost dead of thirst, lad, as we pretty nearly are,” observed Donald.

I told them of the water-melons I had found, and that I still had some remaining.

“Then hand them up, lad! hand them up!” cried Donald. “We shall have more strength to haul you up afterwards.”

While he was speaking, he let down the tether-ropes. I fastened the water-melons to them.

“You will excuse us, Andrew,” said Stanley, “if we satisfy our thirst before getting you up. You know from experience what it is.”

Not waiting for my reply, their heads were in the melons, I suspected, before many seconds had passed. They did not keep me waiting long; but the next time the rope came down I fastened the meat to it. This was hauled up, Donald uttering exclamations of satisfaction at seeing it. By the aid of the rope I very quickly scrambled out; and as I did so I felt thankful that assistance had come, for from the depth of the hole and the nature of the sides I saw that I should not have got out without assistance. They had come upon the remains of the hartbeest, but had not discovered any water-melons, and their horses were, therefore, scarcely able to proceed. Even the small supply of the watery fruit we were able to give the poor animals greatly relieved them.

The next question was, how to get my horse up. I volunteered to descend again. With the aid of the tethers and all the straps we could muster, we managed to get a rope of sufficient length round his shoulders, so as to leave his limbs free, that he might help himself as much as possible. We then shuffled down the sand, making him leap up on it as it fell; and at length, by hard work, once more we got him on level ground.

My horse was heavily laden, but my friends remarked that could they have exchanged some of the meat for water-melons they would gladly have done so. We, however, could discover none on the ground over which we passed. Fortunately they knew the bearings of the camp, and at length its fires appeared in sight. I was surprised to find in reality how short a time I had been in the pit; for I supposed I had passed the greater part of the night there.

We found our friends bitterly disappointed at having discovered no water, as they had expected, at their halting-place. Every one was complaining,—even Kate and Bella; for even the supply intended for the young ladies had been exhausted. My tidings of the water-melons was joyfully received; and it was arranged that a party should set out with oxen and baskets at daylight. I lay down, as did Stanley and Donald, to obtain a little sleep. I was to lead the party, as I fancied I knew the direction where I had found the juicy fruit. When Senhor Silva heard the account I gave, he expressed a hope that we should find not only an abundance of melons, but a root which he called Jeroshua, which grows in the desert, and is of an excessively juicy nature.

While the waggons proceeded on southward, Senhor Silva and I scoured the plain in one direction, keeping sight of the oxen with the panniers, that we might summon them directly we discovered what we were in search of. Before going far, we saw the ground turned up as if some animal had been digging with its horns. Near it was a small plant, the stalk about the thickness of a crow’s quill. It had apparently been broken off, and the root to which it had been attached had been consumed. Not far off, however, we saw several similar plants; and Igubo—who accompanied us with a spade—and the other blacks, who were not far off, were directed to dig. They had got down a little more than a foot, when a large tuber, twice the size of the ordinary turnip, was discovered; and the rind being removed, we found it to consist of a mass of cellular tissue, filled with fluid like the root I have mentioned. We eagerly put it to our mouths, and found it deliciously cool. The poor oxen, as soon as it was given to them, ate it eagerly. We loaded one with the roots, and sent it on to overtake the caravan.

Senhor Silva said there was another root, of a similar nature, in other parts of the desert, called the mokuri. The tubers are far larger. It is a herbaceous creeper. The stem, rising out of the ground, sends out its branches horizontally to a distance of a yard or more on either side. They deposit underground a number of tubers, much larger than the first I have mentioned. The natives, when seeking them, strike the ground with a stone, and discover by the difference of sound when one is beneath the spot.

In half an hour, great was our delight to see the ground covered in all directions with the water-melons of which we were in search. Igubo and his sons, who had never before seen any, instantly set upon them. They spat out the first, with wry faces. They had seized upon a bitter one. The other blacks, more cautious, ran along, cutting a small piece off with their knives, tasting each in succession, leaving the bitter and only cutting the sweet.

As we had not more than a load for one buffalo, we pushed on further, hoping to find a larger supply. After going a few yards, I saw Donald, who was in front, standing up in his stirrups. On getting up with him, he pointed ahead, when we saw in the distance what looked like a number of black mounds.

“A troop of elephants!” he exclaimed. “But it will be no easy matter to get near enough for a shot in this open plain.”

Riding on a little further, the elephants came more closely in sight; and near them were a number of rhinoceroses. It was soon evident that they were busily employed; and Senhor Silva said he had no doubt that they were eating the water-melons, a number of which probably grew there.

Eager as Donald was to obtain the tusks, we declined assisting him in so dangerous an undertaking. Turning southward to return to the caravan, we shortly afterwards caught sight of three lions, and a whole troop of hyenas and jackals, apparently quenching their thirst with the same juicy fruit. Scarcely had we lost sight of them, when several herds of antelopes appeared, scattered widely over the plain. They also were evidently feeding on the melons. We fortunately, however, fell in with a small patch of the fruit which had not yet been attacked, and were thus able to load our oxen. Continuing our course across the desert, we supported ourselves entirely by the watery fruit I have described.

We were pushing towards a village near a fountain, where Donald expected to find an ample supply of water. He and I were riding ahead. At length some circular, beehive-looking huts appeared in sight, with a few people moving about in front of them. The men were armed with spear and buckler, and wore the usual waist-cloth in front, and ornaments on their heads and arms. Several, when they saw us, came forward, and began to shake their spears and vociferate loudly. Before we could understand their meaning, they were joined by a tall oldish-looking man, who seemed to be their chief. After he had made a long harangue, Donald answered him; but I saw by his gestures and those of his followers that no satisfactory arrangement had been arrived at. Donald began to lose temper.

“The fellows guess the strait we are in, and refuse to give or sell us water,” he exclaimed, “unless I deliver to them six of my best oxen, four muskets, and I do not know how many articles besides. I have told them I will do nothing of the sort; and we shall soon see that they will come down in their demands. They know the country we have come through, and probably think we are harder up for water than is the case.”

The chief waited to see if we would accede to his demands; and Donald replied that as we could do very well without water they would get nothing, whereas we would have paid them liberally for what we took. Saying this, we turned round our horses and rode off. We had not got far when several arrows came whistling after us. Fortunately none struck us or our horses, for if they had, as they probably were poisoned, the result would have been serious. As we turned our heads for an instant, we saw a large number of people collecting from numerous huts scattered about in all directions. “We hastened back to the caravan to prepare for defence; for the natives, it seemed, were too likely to attack us. Stanley at once proposed encamping and erecting a stockade, within which we might defend ourselves.”

“Oh yes!” exclaimed Leo, “we could easily drive them off, as we should have done the natives of the north.”

“But,” observed Natty, “suppose they besiege us, what are we to do for water?”

“You are right, Natty,” said Stanley. “It would be better generalship to pass their village and try to gain another fountain further on.”

This, indeed, was our only secure course; for though our own blacks would certainly have fought well, Donald could not depend on his followers, who, he said, had shown the white feather on more than one occasion.

We therefore, instead of camping, as we had proposed, turned somewhat to the east, so as to leave the inhospitable village on our left hand, hoping to get a considerable distance to the south of it before daybreak. The country was tolerably level, and the moon was high enough to give us sufficient light to find our way. It was the first night we had attempted to travel without stopping, but it was absolutely necessary to do so to carry out our object. A battle with the natives was on every account to be avoided. Stanley and I rode as scouts on either hand, while Donald kept ahead to explore the way. We hoped thus to avoid being taken by surprise. We could see numerous animals moving around us. Once a vast herd of elephants hove in sight, another time one of buffaloes, while antelopes of various species bounded off as we came near. We could hear occasionally the muttering sound of lions and the cry of hyenas. Several, indeed, followed us, but as they did not approach, we refrained from firing at them, lest the sound of our rifles might betray our position, Timbo and Chickango brought up the rear on oxen, with directions only to fire in the case of any large body of natives being seen following, or should a wild beast threaten to attack them. Thus we travelled on hour after hour. We halted only once, to give the oxen some water-melons or leroshua roots, and to take a little food and water-melon ourselves, I found that Kate and Bella had become very anxious, because one of the Hottentot boys, who spoke a little English, had been telling them all sorts of stories of the ferocity of the natives, and of the way they had attacked travellers and carried off their oxen. Donald, on hearing this, soundly rated the lad, assuring the ladies that, as he had never been in that part of the country before, he could know nothing of the matter.

After a short rest we again pushed on. The sun at length rose above the dry plain, shedding a brilliant glow of crimson over the whole eastern horizon, and lighting up the summits of the bare rocks, and clumps of trees here and there, with a red tinge. I could not help dreading, with the prospect of a burning day before us, that water might not be found. At length we arrived at one of the sand-wells I have before described. We eagerly rushed into it, and sank our reeds, in the hope of obtaining water. It came, but at a slow rate, which promised but a scanty supply for our thirsty cattle, even though we might obtain enough for our own wants. The blacks quenched their thirst by sucking narrow reeds, which they ran into the sand. Donald, after examining it, gave orders to them to dig, in the hope of obtaining a larger quantity. The result of the operation was satisfactory, and we accordingly resolved to encamp there for a day or two, till our cattle had obtained enough water to last them till we could get across the desert. There was an abundance of grass, growing in tufts, and a small group of trees near us, which would afford us shade and firewood. Stanley also hoped to kill some game. The poor cattle had to wait, though, till our horses had the water they required.

Leo and Natty had been amusing themselves outside the camp. “Here; see what we have got!” cried Leo, returning after they had wandered to a short distance. “Hillo!” he exclaimed, turning round as I went out to meet them. “Why, it was a long creature just now; and see, it has turned into a ball; and a big ball it is!”

The ball of which Leo spoke was covered with large black scales, somewhat the size and shape of the husk of the artichoke, which overlapped each other in a very curious and beautiful manner. David quickly solved the mystery of the scaly ball. Being allowed to remain quiet for a few minutes, it unrolled itself, when it was seen to possess a head and a broad tail, likewise covered with scales. He pronounced it to be one of the manides or scaly ant-eaters—a rare animal, and seldom seen. It had a long extensile tongue, furnished with a glutinous mucous for securing its insect food. It was entirely destitute of teeth, so that it was evident it must suck in the creatures it caught, and swallow them whole.

David said that the manides are very inoffensive animals; that they live solely on ants and termites. They burrow to a great depth in the ground. For this, as also for extracting their food from ant-hills and decayed wood, we found that the creature’s feet were armed with powerful claws, which it could double up when walking.

“We are getting into a thorny district,” observed Donald, who had joined us, “very different to the thornless one we have passed through. What do you think of this?” he observed, stooping down and picking up a round disc with a sharp thorn in the centre. “Suppose this was to run into a poor animal’s foot; it would take him months to get it out, even if he did not become lame for life.”

Soon after we camped Donald started off on a hunt by himself. He had not been gone long when we saw him returning from the north, with a gemsbok, or oryx, as I have before called it, across his saddle. Considering the weight he carried, he came pressing on at a rapid rate. He was not a man much given to exhibiting his feelings, but I saw that something was the matter.

“Quick, lads!” he exclaimed. “We must get ready to defend our camp without loss of time. I thought as I rode along that I would just take a look at our inhospitable friends, and see what they were about. When I had got halfway between this and their village, I caught sight of a large number of them stealing along across the plain. I think they must have seen me, or perhaps they took me for a cameleopard or ostrich; for I only showed for a moment behind an ant-hill, then quickly again got under cover to reconnoitre them. There are some two or three hundred fellows at least, and by the way they were marching I am very certain that they intend to attack us. I had just shot this oryx, and I had no wish to leave it for them, or I might have been here sooner; but there is time to get ready, if we are sharp about it.”

Stanley, on hearing this, was in his element. He immediately ordered out all hands to cut down the smaller trees from the group I spoke of, to form palisades. The waggons and carts were placed on one side, while palisades were fixed all round, and strong cross-beams secured to them. This done, we set to work to throw up an embankment, which, with the light sand, was easily accomplished, the upright posts keeping it in its place. We thus, in a wonderfully short time, had a little fortress which might have stood a siege against men armed with muskets. As we hoped our expected assailants had no firearms among them, we felt no apprehension as to the result. The chief danger was that they might try to starve us out, which there was a possibility of their doing should they persevere in surrounding us. We were working away till long after dark by the light of our fires. Scouts were sent out, but came back after some time stating that they could see nothing of the enemy. At length Stanley expressed his belief that Donald had been mistaken; at which our friend bristled up. No, he was certain he had seen an army of blacks; probably, however, when they caught sight of him, they might have thought better of the matter.

“But perhaps they were merely on a hunting expedition,” said David, “or collecting water-melons.”

“They were keeping too close together for hunting; and as they were following in our track, they would have found neither water-melons nor water-roots,” answered Donald. “Do not be too sure that they will not come yet. These people, as I fancy you have experienced, like to take their enemies by surprise; and they will not come on in broad daylight with tom-toms and shouts, depend on that. It would be well that those who have the morning watch should keep a bright look-out, or we may be attacked when we least expect it.”

Donald’s advice was not thrown away on me. I had just relieved Stanley, who had taken what would at sea be called the middle watch, Jack and Timbo being my companions. The night was perfectly still. I could hear the low muttering of lions in the far distance, with an occasional roar as some other creature approached to dispute their prey with them. Now and then the trumpeting of elephants reached me, probably on their way to some distant fountain, or in search of roots or water-melons. I thought it was almost impossible that any enemies could approach without being discovered. Still, I had been too well accustomed to discipline at sea not to keep as bright a look-out as I should have done had I known they were near. I was standing with Timbo on the north side of the fort, when he asked me to let him go out to a little distance.

“If dey come, dey come soon; and we no see dem till dey close to de wall,” he whispered.

Trusting to his judgment, I willingly let him do as he proposed. He accordingly slipped over the palisade on one side, and I could barely distinguish him as he crept along over the ground towards the north. He was soon lost to sight. Jack and I kept anxiously looking out for his return. I felt little alarm about the natives, but I was afraid that some prowling beast might attack him. I must have waited half an hour or more, when I distinguished a long object crawling along on the ground. In the gloom I could not make out whether it was Timbo, or a panther perhaps, or a huge snake, so noiselessly and stealthily did it approach. It made, however, for the side of the fort, and in a short time Timbo came up to me, having been admitted by Jack through the sally-port in the rear.

“Dey come!” he whispered. “Dey no see me, dough. Dey t’ink dey find us all asleep. I go call de captain and de rest, and de black fellows; and we all get ready, and lie down and snore loud; and den, when de enemy come, we jump up wid loud shout, and dey run away.”

Timbo’s plan of action was simple, and I hoped might prove effective; so I begged him to carry it out. In a few seconds all our party, crawling out from their huts, or from beneath the waggon or lean-tos, assembled noiselessly, and took up their station at the palisades, kneeling down so as not to be seen by those approaching. Thus we all remained ready for the attack. Some time passed away, and no enemy appeared; and I could not help suspecting that Timbo might by some means have been mistaken. He, however, was positive that he had seen the enemy, and was rather indignant at my supposing that he could have been deceived. We kept watching on every side, not knowing on which the blacks, if they really were coming, might make their attack. At length I saw an object moving along the ground, exactly as Timbo had approached the fort; then another and another appeared. I found that Timbo had seen them too, and immediately he managed to give the information to our companions, when, somewhat to my amusement, a loud chorus of snores ascended from all parts of the camp. “Dat good,” he whispered to me; “dey t’ink we all sleepy. Now, see!”

As he spoke, we could distinguish several black figures crawling on the ground close up to the fort. They stopped and listened, then rising to their feet, ran back to their companions, who yet, we supposed, remained concealed in the neighbouring bushes and long grass. Fearing, probably, that the snoring garrison might awake, the whole array of blacks now advanced, crouching down close to the ground, and had we not been watching for them, they might easily have got close up without being discovered. They advanced in a semicircle, closing gradually in on the fort. We lay still as death. The dogs, I should have said, had been muzzled, and stowed away under the waggon, where they remained quiet. Closer and closer the blacks advanced. “Dey t’ink dey climb over and we not know,” whispered Timbo. “Now, see!”

We let the blacks get close to the palisades. They were touching them, expecting without difficulty to climb over, when at a word from Stanley up we all started, firing directly in their faces. The result was even more satisfactory than we could have anticipated, for in an instant the front ranks rushed away, knocking down those behind them in their terror, when the whole army instantly took to flight. The two boys gave vent to loud hurrahs, which were taken up by the rest of our party, when Kate and Bella, who had not been told of what was likely to take place, came rushing out of their tent to inquire what had occurred. We soon found, however, that we were not to gain so easy a victory as we had hoped. The blacks, recovering from their fright, and not acquainted with the effects our firearms were able to produce at a distance, once more assembled, and advanced bravely to the attack. We were consequently compelled to give them a volley, but except from the rifles of two or three of our best shots, very few of our bullets took effect. Seeing that we were not to be taken by surprise, the enemy again retired. We were in hopes that they had gone off altogether. To ascertain whether this was the case, Timbo volunteered once more to go out. He soon returned, saying that they had only retired under shelter, and from the sounds he had heard, he suspected that they proposed making another attack. We waited anxiously till daybreak. On looking out, we saw numerous blacks moving among the bushes. Then a large body appeared, apparently assembling to hold a consultation. After a time they separated, dividing into several small bodies. These marched forward, and posted themselves at equal distances round the camp. It was now clear that, having failed in their expectation of taking us by surprise, they had resolved on starving us out. Fortunately they could not interfere with our water, or they would have done so; indeed, they might possibly not have been aware of the supply we were gradually obtaining from the well.

The day passed away, but our pertinacious enemies made no signs of moving. Of course they kept us on the alert all night, not knowing at what moment they might again attack us. On the second day things began to look serious; for though we had water, provisions were growing scarce. Donald began to talk of cutting our way through the enemy; but as they could assail us at their pleasure as we marched along, this would have been a dangerous proceeding.

“It must be done,” he said at last; “if we remain here another day we shall starve, and it is better to run the risk of fighting than to do that.”

We had at length obtained a sufficient supply of water for the cattle, and had we been unmolested, we might now with confidence proceed on to the next fountain, after which Donald hoped to find each day a sufficient supply of water. Stanley however proposed, instead of risking an attack while moving on, to sally out with horse and foot and drive the enemy away. He, with Senhor Silva and Donald, were to form the cavalry, and I was to lead a party of infantry, consisting of Jack, Chickango, Igubo and his two sons, and four of Donald’s Hottentots.

“We must go too, then!” exclaimed Leo, when he heard the proposal.

“No,” answered Stanley. “I have no doubt of your bravery, but you will show it better by remaining to assist David and Timbo in garrisoning the fort.” After some hesitation Donald agreed to this plan.

At length, as evening drew on, the blacks appeared in greater numbers than before. Instead of allowing them to approach, however, we opened a warm fire upon them, when even at a considerable distance. This seemed to astonish them, as probably they were not aware that our bullets would reach so far, and once more they retreated under cover. Scarcely had they gone, when Donald gave us the unsatisfactory information that one meal alone remained for the party in the camp.

“Then, my friends,” said Stanley, “let us lose no time in making our retreat. We may get to a long distance before the blacks discover that we have left the fort; and if they follow us, we must turn round and drive them off.”

The necessity of moving was so obvious, that no time was lost in preparing to start. The waggons were laden, the oxen yoked. The usual fires were lighted, to deceive the enemy. Then in perfect silence we quitted the camp, Stanley and I bringing up the rear, and Timbo and Jack and four other men, well-armed, on foot. We moved on slowly; for neither we, our horses, nor cattle were capable of much exertion. Every now and then Stanley halted and faced round to ascertain whether we were pursued; but some hours passed by, and we began to hope that the enemy had retreated before we commenced our march, or had not ventured to follow us. We knew well, however, that if the blacks did pursue us, they would come on stealthily, so that we should have but a short time to prepare for their reception. Leo and Natty were persuaded to remain in the waggon with their guns loaded, ready to do battle for Kate and Bella; while Donald had put arms into the hands of the most trustworthy of his men, who promised to fight bravely should we be attacked. However, he confessed that he had no confidence in their valour. After riding for some time at a distance from the waggon we once more joined them, hoping that we should be able to proceed without molestation.

I was very thankful when the sun rose; and though his beams were likely to be somewhat hot, they greatly cheered our spirits. I was on the point, at Stanley’s request, of riding on to ask Donald Fraser when he proposed to camp, when, looking round, I saw away to the north, on the summit of an elevation we had passed over, a dark line moving towards us. I pointed it out to Stanley.

“It is the blacks! There can be no doubt about that,” he answered. “We must be prepared for them. I did not suppose they would have ventured so far in pursuit.”

“I say, Andrew, we must drive these fellows off, and have done with them,” said Leo. “You will see how Natty and I will fight!”

I was sure from his determined look that he would be as good as his word, and that Natty would not be less courageous, though he made no remark. Stanley had given orders that not a shot was to be fired till he issued the word of command. We were standing in expectation of receiving it, when Timbo shouted out, “See! see! some horsemen come dis way!” We looked towards the west—the direction in which he pointed—where, under a cloud of dust, a herd of buffaloes were seen scampering across the plain, with several horsemen in close pursuit. On they came directly towards our black enemies, who did not perceive them till they were within a distance of four or five hundred yards. The herd of buffaloes dashed madly forward into the very midst of the blacks, whom they scattered in every direction. Numbers were knocked over. The rest, taken by surprise, attempted to escape by flight. Instantly Stanley threw himself upon his horse and galloped forward, shouting to the hunters. The buffaloes meantime continued their charge wherever they saw the negroes assembled, and in a few minutes swept half round the circle, raising the siege in the most effectual manner. Stanley’s shouts soon attracted the attention of the hunters. A few words from him explained the state of affairs, and together they charged towards the remainder of the black army, who had hitherto stood their ground. The latter, without even stopping to draw their bows, took to flight towards the north, still followed, in the most extraordinary manner, by the buffaloes, who rushed in and out among them, urged on by the shouts and cries of the hunters in the rear. In a few minutes not a black was to be seen, except those who had been knocked over by the infuriated animals. All this time the only shots fired had been at the buffaloes, three of whom lay dead on the ground. At length the herd, after pursuing the blacks for a considerable distance, turned off to the east, leaving us possessors of the field.

As we were hurrying out to welcome the strangers, we saw Stanley warmly shaking hands with them, when what was my surprise as they rode up to recognise the Messrs Rowley and Terence O’Brien!

“We will tell you all about it,” said the latter, as we warmly shook hands. “But don’t you know him?” and he pointed to the fourth horseman.

I could scarcely believe my eyes, when my friend, the worthy first mate of the Osprey—whom I thought had long been numbered with the dead—jumped off his steed and took me by the hand.

“I have not a very long yarn to spin,” he said, “though it is a somewhat wonderful one. When I was washed off the deck, I found near me a topmast, which had probably been carried away and cut adrift from some craft ahead of us. I clung on to it, and was picked up a day or two afterwards by a vessel which had to touch at Walfish Bay on her way to the Cape. Finding a party settled there on a whaling speculation, I agreed to remain. However, after some time, as few whales were to be caught, I determined to go on to the Cape. Just as I was about to sail, I received an invitation from a gentleman—Mr Ramsay—about to start into the interior on a hunting and trading expedition, to accompany him as an assistant. The life he proposed to lead was a new one to me; but I had had enough of salt water, and after a little consideration accepted it. Who should arrive directly afterwards but our friends here, who, after having been cast on shore and gone through all sorts of adventures as they travelled down the coast from the north, had at length reached Walfish Bay. But they will give you an account of themselves. Do not ask, though, about their poor sister,” he whispered. “She is gone! Died soon after they landed; and that wretched fellow Kydd, he was washed off the raft in passing through the surf. These three young men alone remained, with scarce a rag on their backs, and not a sixpence in the world. They were therefore very glad to accept the offer made to them by my friend, to assist him in shooting elephants, and rhinoceroses, and other game. From what I have seen of them, they are better suited to that sort of work than the steady business of a colonist. We have now been out six months, and are on the point of turning westward; indeed, had the buffaloes not led us in this direction, we should not have come further to the east. The prospect of the desert is not over-inviting, and for my part, I have had enough of hunting. I have run a narrow chance of being killed a score of times by lions and elephants, not to speak of rhinoceroses and buffaloes, hyenas and snakes, and I do not know what other creatures. When my engagement is over, I have made up my mind not to accept another of the same sort, but to stick to the sea as long as I am fit for work, or till I can save enough to enable me to settle down in a snug cottage in old England.”

After the hint I had received from my friend Gritton, I forebore to make too minute inquiries of the Rowleys as to their adventures. Terence O’Brien, however, gave me most of the particulars. They had undergone a fearful amount of suffering even before they were cast ashore, and a still greater amount afterwards. It is surprising, indeed, that poor Miss Rowley should have survived so long on the raft; and we all, indeed, had cause to be thankful that we had been preserved from similar sufferings.

As soon as part of the buffalo flesh had been divided among our half-famished party, and had been cooked and eaten, we inspanned and pushed on to join Mr Ramsay’s caravan. Though there was little chance of our being pursued by the hostile natives, I was very thankful when at length the fires of his camp appeared in sight. Terence O’Brien had galloped on to announce our coming, and he now came up with loud whoops and cries, followed by most of his party, from whom we received the warmest welcome. We had still, however, a long journey before us; but the road was known, the fountains were within moderate distances of each other, and the natives were friendly. Mr Ramsay had been successful both in hunting and trading, and the large piles of huge elephant and hippopotamus tusks, lion and panther skins, and other articles, rather excited Donald Fraser’s envy. “However,” he observed to me, as he looked at his fellow-trader’s well-filled waggons, “I have had the satisfaction of rescuing you and your friends, Mr Crawford, out of as dangerous a position as travellers in Africa can well be placed in, and I have no reason to complain of the liberality of your generous friend, Senhor Silva.”

We at length reached Walfish Bay, where we found a vessel, the Flying Fish, just on the point of sailing for the Cape. The Rowleys and Terence O’Brien were, however, so enamoured of their hunting life, that they determined to start off into the wilds again on their own account. Our kind, noble-minded, and generous friend, Senhor Silva, here bade us good-bye, intending to wait for a vessel which was expected to call in on her way to Saint Paul de Loando. He shook my hand warmly.

“I am a widower, as you know, and I had a hope, I confess, which I must not speak of, for I see that it is vain,” he said. “You will think of me, and so will your sweet cousin, I trust, sometimes; and I shall be truly glad to hear of your happiness.”

We all embarked on board the Flying Fish, hoping at length, after all our adventures, to reach our destination in safety. I had made up my mind to settle on shore, and assist my cousins in cultivating their farm. Perhaps my cousin Kate had something to do with my resolution. At all events, when I proposed it she appeared very well pleased.

Leo, when he heard of it, exclaimed, “Oh, how delightful! because then, Andrew, you will not carry Natty away, as I was afraid you might have done; and he and I can manage to get on so capitally together. We have formed all sorts of plans already, and I only hope that you may marry Kate, and he, by-and-by, can marry Sheila; and then we shall all be brothers, ‘and live happily together to the end of our days,’ as the story books say.”

Though our voyage was a pleasant one, I was very thankful when at length the lofty height of Table Mountain appeared ahead, covered with its table-cloth, and we dropped our anchor off Cape Town. We had still a long journey before us; but at length the anxiety which my uncle and aunt had been so long suffering on account of the non-appearance of their children was relieved by our safe arrival at their farm.

After a few days’ rest, we all set to work on the special duties apportioned us. Kate did not neglect Bella’s education, even though in the course of the following year she became the mistress of a house of her own, of which I was the master. David settled down as the medical man of the district. Stanley, though he occasionally went out hunting, became a first-rate farmer, ably assisted by Timbo, Chickango, and Igubo and his two sons, who expressed no desire to return to their part of Africa. Jack Handspike accompanied Mr Gritton to sea, but lately came back again, saying that he had had enough of it, and was determined henceforth to plough the land instead of the ocean. I may say of myself and of all my friends indeed, that “whatsoever our hands find to do, we do it with all our might,” humbly endeavouring to serve God in our daily walk in life, and thereby enjoy that true happiness which even in this world can be obtained by those who know the right way to seek it.

The End.

W.H.G. Kingston

"In the Wilds of Florida"

Chapter One.

Without a profession—An Irish “squireen”—News from abroad—Uncle Nicholas and his family—Preparations for the voyage—Tim Flanagan—Parting calls—On board the “Liberty”—Our fellow-passengers—Table-talk—A friendly hint—A sail on the starboard bow—Monsieur Lejoillie—Little Paul overboard—Gallantry of Rochford—The lion of the day.

I had just left school, in a very undecided state of mind as to what profession I should select. The honest truth is, that I had no great fancy for one more than for another. I should have preferred that of a gentleman at large, with an independent fortune. But it had been so ordained that I should not possess the latter very satisfactory means of subsistence; and it was necessary, if I wished to support myself like a gentleman, that I should choose some calling by which I could at least obtain an income, supposing that I had not the talent to realise a large fortune.

My father, Captain Michael Kearney, had a small estate, but it was slightly encumbered, like many another in old Ireland; and he had no intention of beggaring my brother and sister in order to benefit me. In a certain sense, it is true, they were provided for. Ellen had married Captain Patrick Maloney of the Rangers, who had, however, little beyond his pay to live on. My younger brother, Barry, had entered the navy; but as he drew fifty pounds a year and occasionally other sums from my father’s pocket, it cannot be said that he was off his hands. I also had once thought of becoming a sailor, for the sake of visiting foreign lands; but I had allowed the time to pass, and was now considered too old to go to sea. I then took a fancy for the army; but my father declared that he could not afford to purchase a commission for me, and I had no chance of getting one in any other way. I talked of the law; but when I heard of the dry books I should have to study, and the drier parchments over which I should have to pore, I shuddered at the thought, and hastily abandoned the idea.

My kind aunt, Honor Molloy,—the sister of my mother, who had been dead some years,—pathetically urged me to enter the church, in the hope, as she said, that that would keep me in the right way; but I honestly felt that the church was not my vocation, and that I was much more likely to go the wrong way if I assumed an office for which I was unfit. Then she proposed that I should become a doctor; but I declared that I hated physic, and could never bring myself to drug my fellow-creatures with stuff which I would not take myself. My father offered to try to get me into a government office, though he acknowledged that he had but slight interest with people in authority, and that I might have a long time to wait before I could obtain a satisfactory appointment. He suggested, in the meantime, that I might become a clerk in a mercantile house, and that I might one day become a partner; but that day seemed so very far off in the perspective, that I begged he would not trouble himself about the matter, deciding rather to seek for some government appointment, either at home or abroad.

“Well, Maurice, my boy, you’ll become wiser as you grow older, and you’ll be glad to accept the first offer made you,” remarked my father.

He, however, immediately wrote to Dublin, to the only friend of the family who was likely to render us assistance. This was Councillor Roacharty, who in the course of a few days replied that he would do his best; but that his friend Maurice must put his impatience under lock and key until Ireland had her rights, and Irishmen ruled their green island home. As I confidently hoped that this happy event would soon be an accomplished fact, I was content; but my father was not so well satisfied as I was with the councillor’s reply.

Meantime I shot, fished, hunted, and visited our neighbours, and was rapidly adopting the habits and customs of Irish squireens, when one day, returning home from shooting, just before dinner, I found my father deeply engaged in reading a foreign-looking letter. So absorbed was he in its contents that he did not perceive my entrance. Not wishing to disturb him, I retired to get rid of my muddy boots and leggings; and on my return, dinner was on the table. During the meal he was unusually silent, not even inquiring what sport I had had. Dinner over, he drew his chair to the fire, and I followed his example. Taking the letter I had before seen out of his pocket, he glanced it over, and then looking up at me, he said—

“Maurice, you’ll be after wondering about the contents of this epistle. I have been thinking over it before telling you.”

“I observed that you had received a letter,” I answered. “I hope it contains no bad news.”

“Faith, it is difficult to say whether it’s good or bad,” he replied. “You have heard me speak about your Uncle Nicholas, who went away many years ago to America, but of whose subsequent adventures, or whether he was alive or dead, I had obtained no certain tidings. This letter is from him. He tells me that after knocking about in various parts of the Union, he found his way to Florida, down south, where he married a Spanish lady, Donna Maria Dulce Gallostra, of ancient family, young and beautiful, and, what was of no small consequence, considering his own financial condition, the owner of a fine estate. She has blessed him with three children,—two daughters, Rita and Juanita, and a son, Carlos: the former take after him, and are regular Irish girls, fair and pretty, fond of riding, fishing, and boating, full of life and spirits; while the boy, Carlos, takes after his mother, being a dark-eyed, handsome little chap, but restive as an unbroken colt, and passionate in the extreme when roused,—for his mother has humoured and spoiled him until she has lost all control over the young rascal, so that he fancies he can rule the roost better than his parents. Your uncle describes the country as being in a somewhat disturbed condition. The Indians are greatly irritated, and even threaten the destruction of the whites, in consequence of the intention of the United States Government to drive them out of the country across the Mississippi. His own health has lately been giving way, and he is very anxious as to what would become of his wife and daughters in the event of his death. His wife, Donna Maria, he says, though a charming woman, has very little notion how to manage the estate, and his son is too young to help her, or to take care of himself; while his daughters, delightful young creatures as they are, do not appear to possess the requisite qualifications. Having lately seen my name in an Irish newspaper, and knowing from this that I had come back to the old place, he determined to write to me, to implore me, by the brotherly affection which always existed between us when we were together, to come out and take charge of his daughters, whom he proposes to leave to my care in his will. Carlos will, on the death of his mother, inherit the Florida estate, unless in the meantime the boy succumbs, which my brother fears is not improbable. In that case his daughters would come into possession of the property; but as it is not in a part of the country in which it is desirable that they should live, he has arranged for the sale of the estate on the death of their mother. The girls have had three or four years’ schooling in Philadelphia, and have only lately returned to the south. Although they appear at present to enjoy the untrammelled life they lead, he thinks they will soon grow tired of it, and wish for a more civilised state of existence. He appeals to me so earnestly that I am unwilling to refuse his request; and he urges me to cross the Atlantic immediately, if I desire to be of service to him before he dies.”

“Sure then, father, what could be easier than to take me with you!” I exclaimed. “I would help you, and look after my cousins; and I daresay Carlos and I would get on together very well. Besides, I should like to see Florida. I have heard something about the country—that there is no end of game and sport of all sorts to be had in it.”

“Bless my heart, I never thought of that!” exclaimed my father. “Well, as it may be some time before you can possibly obtain employment, perhaps you could not do better than accompany me. There will be the additional expense; but your uncle generously offers to pay the cost of my voyage, and I shall see what funds I can raise. We’ll leave old Molly in charge of the place till we return, so that there will not be the expense of housekeeping. As my brother urges me to come without delay, we will forthwith set about our preparations. I have been too long in a marching regiment to require many hours for getting ready.”

I was delighted that my father had agreed to my proposal, and that he could not think of any other way to dispose of me. We talked the matter over until we settled that we should start for Dublin the next day if possible, and thence crossing to Liverpool, look out there for a vessel bound for one of the southern ports of the United States,—either Charleston or Savannah.

As soon as we had finished our talk, I jumped up and set about getting our traps in order.

“You’re the boy not to let the grass grow under your feet,” observed my father, well pleased at my alacrity.

Our first care was to look over our guns and sporting gear; the next, to put up such clothing as we thought we should require. My father then sent off for his agent; and I, meantime, wrote by his direction several letters of business.

While I was thus engaged, Tim Flanagan—an old follower of my father, who had served in his regiment, and on getting his discharge had come to live with us, uniting the offices of butler, groom, and general factotum—made his appearance, I having told him to come in as soon as his work was over.

“Tim, I’m thinking of running across to America for a few weeks, or months it may be, with Maurice here. I have not quite made up my mind how to find you employment. In the meantime, Molly will look after the house, and Dan Rafferty will mind the farm.”

“Sure, if your honour’s going to foreign lands, you wouldn’t be afther leavin’ me behind?” interrupted Tim. “An’ the young masther going away too! Though there might be work enough for me, I had much rather be followin’ you, capt’n, whether it’s fighting or hunting you’d be afther. It isn’t wages I want; so just let it be settled, if you plase, that I go with you and the young masther. I’ve heard say that there are Indians, rattlesnakes, and panthers, and all sorts of wild beasts out in them parts, an’ he’ll be wantin’ a steady man to be at hand to help him; and sure Tim Flanagan’s the right person to be following his masther’s son. So just say the word, capt’n dear, an’ I’ll be ready to march the moment I get the route.”

To my infinite satisfaction, my father answered, “If you wish it, Tim, you shall accompany us. In case anything should happen to me, I should be glad to think that Maurice had some one ready to stand by his side; and there’s no human being to whom I would so readily intrust him as to you.”

“It’s mighty thankful I am to ye, capt’n; an’ we’ll be afther seeing about the baggage, and getting all things ready for the march.”

Molly came in after Tim, and frequently applied her apron to her eyes, as my father went on to describe his plans. She was distressed at hearing of the illness of Master Nicholas, as she called my uncle, and at the thought of our going away.

“It’s your honour and Mr Maurice going off that grieves me,” she said. “Sure, if you must go, you must. I’ll not let the house go to ruin for want of dusting and cleaning, and looking afther the poultry and the pigs, and Dan Rafferty and the boys!”

Molly was much comforted when my father assured her that he could intrust the place to her care with perfect confidence.

In pretty good spirits she set to work to overhaul our wardrobe, and prepare everything for packing. There was little sleep for any of us that night; and the next morning, as soon as my father had made certain necessary arrangements with Mr Nolan, the attorney, his agent, we started for Dublin by Bianconi’s car, which passed our gate. Having settled some money matters, we visited Councillor Roacharty, who, with a bland smile, assured me that he would not forget my wishes during my absence. We then went on to Belfast, whence we crossed to Liverpool. Here, on our arrival, we immediately called on various shipping agents, and, much to our satisfaction, found that a vessel which was to sail that evening for Savannah had cabin accommodation for two or three additional passengers. A few hours after, we found ourselves again afloat on board the good ship Liberty, of four hundred tons, belonging to Liverpool, gliding down the Mersey with a fair breeze, which, we hoped, would carry us quickly across the Atlantic.

My father and Tim, who were old voyagers, lost no time in making themselves at home—the former with the captain, mates, and cabin passengers; the latter with the seamen and his companions in the steerage.

We had an assemblage of various nationalities. Almost every one on board was interested to some extent in the growth of cotton, the chief produce of Georgia, to the principal port of which we were bound. While we sat round the table at supper, the relative values of sea-island cotton and upland cotton, and the best modes of manufacturing sugar and tobacco, were the general subjects of conversation; but as I knew no more about these articles than I did of the cultivation of cloves and nutmegs, I could only sit and listen: though I was able to note the remarks of others, and tried to gain some idea of the character of the speakers. Two other persons were at first as silent as myself. One of them at length began to ask a few questions, speaking with a strong French accent. He appeared far more interested in what was said than the other. I heard him addressed as Monsieur Lejoillie. On inquiring about him from the gentleman who sat next me, he replied—

“What! don’t you know him? If you had seen his luggage coming on board you would have guessed—cases of all sorts, mostly empty, except a few containing instruments and bottles. He is a great naturalist,—and, I may add, linguist, for I don’t know how many languages he speaks. Not equal to our own Audubon, I guess, but a man of wonderful talent, notwithstanding. But, to confess the truth, I am not very well versed in the matters in which he excels.”

This information impressed me with a due respect for Monsieur Lejoillie, and I hoped to become better acquainted with him before long.

A remark made by the hitherto silent personage on the subject of slavery, which caused many of the party to prick up their ears and cast angry looks at the speaker, showed me that he was a fellow-countryman.

I heard Monsieur Lejoillie say to him, in a low voice, “Hush, my young friend! Liberty, equality, and fraternity may be very fine things to talk about in the Old World; for being incompatible with our advanced state of civilisation, people can there afford to laugh at such notions. It is quite a different thing in the New World, where hostile races are brought close together; and I would advise you not to give expression to your opinions except among intimate friends, or they may prove inconvenient, if not dangerous to you.”

“My heart burns with indignation when I think of the wrongs inflicted on those noble red men, the rightful inheritors of the soil, and on the down-trodden negroes, dragged from their native land to become the helpless slaves of arbitrary tyrants,” answered the other.

“Hush, hush, my friend!” again repeated Monsieur Lejoillie. “Such words, just as they may be, are not suited to the atmosphere of the land for which we are bound. I entreat you not to let them pass your lips in mixed society, such as is here assembled.”

Fortunately at this moment a warm discussion engaged the attention of most of the persons at table, who failed to hear the remarks made by my countryman, or the friendly advice given him by the naturalist. I saw that an old gentleman was seated near the former, a young lady only intervening. The old gentleman, who was listening to what was said, cast a look more of pity than of anger at the young man, but did not speak. The lady smiled, and said in a pleasant, sweet voice, “I would counsel you, Mr Rochford, to follow the advice of Monsieur Lejoillie. There are some on board who would resent such remarks as you have made. You must pass some time among us before you can form a correct opinion as to the way the Indians or the slaves are treated. You may discover that the red men are not quite the heroes you suppose, and that the negroes are far better off with us than they would be in their own country.”

“Faith! I cannot but desire to be guided by so fair an adviser,” answered Rochford, in a rich Irish brogue, bowing as he spoke.

The next day, as we were sailing down the Channel, I spoke to my countryman, Maulins Rochford—for such I learned was his name—not letting him understand that I had overheard his remarks on the previous evening. When he found that I was a countryman, he became frank and communicative. He was two or three years older than myself. His appearance and manner were prepossessing, and we at once became intimate. He had lately, by the death of his parents, come into a small property; but instead of spending his time idly at home in hunting and shooting, as many in his position do, he was anxious to be of use to his fellow-creatures. Having but a limited knowledge of the subject, and no one to consult, he had taken it into his head that he might aid the red men in retaining their rights, and the slave population in obtaining theirs. He was warm-hearted and generous, and from his manner, I had little doubt, as brave as steel. By many he would have been looked upon as a crazy enthusiast or a dangerous character, for whom the walls of a prison or a mad-house would prove the safest abode. He, however, had the discretion to follow the advice he had received, and did not again in public broach the subject of Indian rights or the iniquity of slavery. They were, however, common subjects of conversation between us, and he almost won me over to his opinions. What he intended to do he did not say. Indeed, I found that he had no very definite plan of proceeding. Had I been by myself, I do not know how I might have acted, but I fortunately did not commit myself by promising to aid him in any of his schemes.

I found the old gentleman I have spoken of was Mr Archelaus Shurtleff, a judge, whose residence was in Florida. The young lady, whom I at first supposed to be his daughter, was his wife. They had but one child, called Paul, a fine little fellow four or five years old, who happened to be with his black nurse in their cabin when I first saw them, and hence I did not discover my mistake until the next day. The kind old gentleman told my father and myself that he should be very happy to see us at his house, which was not far from that of my Uncle Nicholas, with whom he was well acquainted. My father replied that he would gladly pay him a visit, provided the state of his brother’s health and spirits would allow him to do so.

“Sorry to hear that our friend Nicholas is ill,” said the judge. “As to his spirits, he is over anxious about the state of the country. He is always apprehending an attack from the red men. It is a mistaken fancy of his. They’ll never dare to interfere with the settlers. They know too well the fearful retribution that would overtake them.”

The worthy judge and his wife, who appeared to have taken a liking for Rochford, had frequent conversations with him, and he told me that they had given him an invitation to their home, which he had gladly accepted.

“I hope that we shall meet there,” I observed. “At all events, as we shall not be far away from each other, we may have some sport together, and kill no end of crocodiles, bears, deer, and other wild beasts and birds of all sorts.”

I had expected that in crossing the Atlantic we should have encountered at least a gale or two of wind, and witnessed the sea foaming and roaring and running mountains high. Instead of this, with the exception of a little tossing and pitching for a week or two, we ran along over a smooth ocean, generally with a fair wind and delightful weather. Occasionally, when we were becalmed, the sun shone down on our heads, and sent us in search of every shady spot that could be found. Most of our companions were accustomed to a hotter atmosphere, which they told us we should find when we got on shore; but even they kept out of the rays of the sun as much as possible. When a breeze sprang up, we glided along with studding-sails on either side at the rate of some seven or eight knots an hour, and the look-out forward shouted, “A sail on the starboard bow!”

The captain remarked that, from the way she was standing, she would pass close to us. Most of the passengers on deck hurried across to look at the stranger. Rochford, who was seated on a coil of rope writing in his note-book, continued his occupation without moving.

Lejoillie, who had just come from the cuddy, sauntered along the deck towards him.

“What, my friend, are you inditing sonnets to your lady’s eyebrow, or composing your first speech as president of your model republic?” he said in his bantering way.

“Whatever I am about, I am not fond of being interrupted,” answered Rochford, looking up with a more angry glance than I had yet seen on his countenance.

“My dear friend,” exclaimed Lejoillie, taking his hands out of his pockets and stepping forward, “I am sincerely sorry, and beg your pardon. I thought you would like to see yonder fine ship as she passes us. Happily the world is at peace, or I should fear she was an enemy, and had some intention of attacking the Liberty; neither can she be a pirate, as our captain does not endeavour to keep out of her way.”

Rochford, quickly appeased, rose to look at the stranger. Instead, however, of crossing to where the rest of the passengers were standing, I saw him dart aft towards one of the ports, all of which had been left open to admit of a free current of air. At the same time, little Paul’s black nurse, Rosa, uttering a wild shriek, fell to the deck. I guessed what had happened. The child had escaped from her arms, and running heedlessly away, had fallen overboard through the port. Rochford, who had seen the occurrence, without stopping for one instant, plunged in after him. I felt inclined to follow, but I distrusted my own powers of swimming. I had, however, what was of far more use, presence of mind to run aft and drop a grating, which was fortunately at hand, over the side, and shout out, at the top of my voice, “Man overboard!”

While some ladies gathered round the poor mother, who was almost frantic with grief, and others attended to the nurse, who had gone off in a swoon, the captain issued the necessary orders for shortening sail; for, with all the flying-kites set, it was impossible, until the canvas was taken off the ship, to bring her up to the wind.

The judge, in the meantime, retained his calmness and presence of mind in a wonderful manner. My father, Lejoillie, Tim Flanagan, and two or three others, made preparations, under the superintendence of the second mate, for lowering a boat, every man of the crew being required to shorten sail. The helm was put down, the yards braced up, and the ship quickly brought to the wind. I was going to assist in lowering the boat, when the captain called me aft, and told me to keep an eye on Mr Rochford and the child.

Not having stopped to throw off his clothes, the moment he reached the water he struck out towards the boy, who had just risen after his first plunge: his head, I saw, was above the surface, and he had unconsciously turned on his back, stretching out his little arms for help. In another instant Rochford got up, and holding the child’s face well out of the water, was evidently trying to dispel his fears; then looking round, he saw the grating, towards which he at once swam, and placed the child upon it. All this time the ship was, of course, running away from the spot, and gradually he and his little charge became less and less distinct. I saw, however, that he was holding on to the grating, which, I was thankful to see, perfectly supported the child. A very long time seemed to elapse before I heard the order to put the helm down, and I even fancied that the ship was running away altogether from where little Paul and Rochford were floating. But what was my horror just then to see a black fin come gliding by. On the previous day we had passed several huge monsters of the deep. What if the shark should discover our fellow-passenger! I longed to be able to shout out to him to keep his legs moving; but he could not have heard me, even if I had shouted ever so loudly, and by so doing I should have still further alarmed the judge and his poor wife. Had Rochford been seized, there would have been little hope of the child escaping.

The moment the ship was hove-to, having pointed out to the captain the exact position of those in the water, and being unable to restrain my eagerness, I sprang forward, and just had time to glide down the falls into the boat, which, under the charge of the mate, pulled by her crew, was shoving off.

“Glad you have come, sir,” said the mate; “you can nurse the child when we get him into the boat.”

“If we do,” I said, and I pointed with a thrill of horror to the fin of the shark as its wicked eye glanced up at us. The fear seized me that it might follow the boat and discover Rochford. “I wish I had a pistol to shoot it!” I exclaimed.

Without answering, the mate seized the after oar and struck with all his force, the edge of the blade entering the water at the shark’s back.

The brute disappeared, and, I trusted, had sunk far down into the depths of the ocean. Away we pulled as hard as the men could lay their backs to the oars, the appearance of the shark making them still more eager to get up to the assistance of the brave young man and the child. To my joy I saw, as I got closer, that little Paul was resting securely on the grating, while Rochford was striking out with his feet, and one of his hands being still at liberty.

“Bear a hand, friends!” he cried out. “Take the child on board first, and the sooner you help me in I’ll be obliged to you. There are some ugly brutes cruising about here who have a mighty fancy for my legs.”

The boat approached the grating. I leaned over to grasp the little boy as soon as I could reach him, and as I did so I heard the mate tell the men to keep striking the water with their oars.

We soon had Paul safe. Not until then would Rochford allow the crew to help him on board. He had a providential escape as it was, for scarcely were his feet well over the gunwale, when the brute of a shark shoved its hideous snout above the surface, getting, however, an ugly prick in the nose for his pains from a boat-hook.

Rochford was well-nigh exhausted; but owing to his courage and presence of mind, the child appeared very little the worse for its plunge. What would have been his fate, however, had the monster of a shark we saw been near at hand at the moment he fell overboard!

We were speedily alongside, and I had the satisfaction of handing the little boy to his parents. The poor mother was about to thank me, supposing that I had been the means of saving him; but I pointed to Rochford, who stood dripping wet on deck, as the man who had performed the gallant act.

The judge wrung his hand. “I thank you, sir! I thank you!” he exclaimed.

The mother burst into tears as she held the child to her heart; then taking Rochford’s hand, she pressed it to her lips. The nurse, seeing the child was saved, quickly recovered, and exhibited her gratitude in even a more demonstrative way than her master and mistress.

I came in for a share of their thanks when they were informed that I had thrown the grating overboard which had contributed so much to save the lives both of the little boy and our friend.

Rochford having assured those who had collected round him to pay compliments, that he had really done nothing to deserve all the fine things that were said, dived below to change his wet garments. In a short time afterwards he appeared on deck as if nothing particular had happened.

As may be supposed, he became a greater favourite than ever with the judge and his wife; and even some of those who had before looked at him askance, acknowledged that he was a very fine fellow.

The ship was again put before the wind, and away she stood on her westward course.

Among those who looked upon Rochford as a hero was Tim Flanagan, who regarded his fellow-countryman with unbounded admiration, and declared himself ready to go through fire and water to serve him. Lejoillie had also taken a great liking to him, and they frequently walked the deck together, engaged in earnest conversation. Following the Frenchman’s advice, Rochford had been very careful not again to express his political opinions in public, though he did not hesitate to talk freely to me, as I have no doubt he did to the naturalist.

He was thus generally liked, and with the ladies, especially, he became a great favourite. No one, indeed, would have considered him a dangerous character, if one had seen him, whenever he could get little Paul out of the black nurse’s arms, carrying the child about and playing with him on deck, but taking very good care that he should not again slip through a port.

The weather continued brilliant; and the numerous sea-birds, which flitted high in the air or hovered round the ship, told us that we were nearing the end of our voyage.

Chapter Two.

First sight of land—On board the “Great Alexander”—Scissor-bills—Flying-fish—Off Amelia Island—Something about Florida—Indian treaties—Rochford’s desire to serve the Red Men—Entrance to Saint John River—The Hazard Lighthouse—A good cure for intemperance—Saint John Bluff—A sad history—A change of weather—The storm—A Florida swamp—A successful hunt—Surprised by Indians—Parting with our new friends.

Early one morning I was taking a walk on deck with Rochford, when we heard a cry aloft of “Land! land!”

“Ere long, then, I shall have an opportunity of commencing the glorious task I have undertaken!” murmured my companion.

As he did not exactly address me, I made no reply. We immediately went up the fore-rigging, but could only see a long faint line, distinguished from the ocean and the sky by the difference of tint. It was the coast of Georgia, the eastern portion of which is but slightly elevated above the water, though a hilly region exists in the northern part of the State. It was not till some hours afterwards, when we were approaching the mouth of the river Savannah, that we could see the land clearly from the deck.

The passengers having packed up their personal property in their portmanteaus and carpet-bags, ready for landing, we collected on the poop. As I stood near the judge and his wife, who were seated on the skylight, their little boy, guarded watchfully by black Rosa, playing near them, I heard the former say to Rochford that, as he intended to charter a schooner to convey himself and family up the Saint John River, he begged to have the pleasure of Rochford’s company on board.

“I purpose going on to Florida with Captain Kearney and his son and Monsieur Lejoillie; and as I cannot desert them, I regret that I am unable to take advantage of your kind offer,” was the answer.

“Get them to come with us then,” said the judge. “They can, if they wish it, pay a proper proportion of the expenses of the voyage; but I cannot allow you to do so. You must come under my wing, and you can join your friend Lejoillie whenever he starts on his proposed expedition in search of the wonders of our flowery land.”

When the judge made the offer to my father and Lejoillie, they at once accepted it, both being anxious to reach Florida with as little delay as possible.

We ran up the river until we anchored, seventeen miles from its mouth, off the city of Savannah, built on a sandy expanse, and elevated about forty feet above the level of the tide. I have little to say about the city, except that it struck me as a fine place, many of the streets being wide and bordered with trees, and that it contains numerous churches, hospitals, stores, and other public buildings.

On landing, the judge immediately engaged a schooner, known by the high-sounding name of the Great Alexander. Her skipper’s name was Ebenezer Crump. The craft was not unlike an Irish “hooker;” her great beam showed that she was likely to carry her canvas well. That very evening the judge and his family, my father, Tim, and I, accompanied by Rochford and Lejoillie, went on board, and dropped down the river with the tide, ready to sail the following morning.

We had plenty to amuse us. Crossing the bar at daybreak with a fair breeze, we ran along outside the line of islands which fringe the coast of Georgia, and which are devoted to the cultivation of “sea-island cotton.” The water teemed with fish, and birds innumerable came flying round us. The most remarkable of the latter were the scissor-bills, with black plumage, which went skimming along the surface, scooping up with their long lower mandible any unwary mollusc or fish of small size which came within their reach, and uttering every instant loud and discordant cries. Lejoillie told us that they were of the gull tribe, about twenty inches in length. The peculiarity of their beak consists in the lower mandible being considerably longer than the other into which it shuts. It is of an orange-red at the base, and deepens into black at the tip. To prevent the water rushing into its throat as it skims the surface with its beak, the bird is provided with a very small gullet. When unable to procure food by the method we saw it employing, Lejoillie said that it frequents the sea-shore as the tide is ebbing, where, finding mollusca with open valves, it inserts the lower mandible of its beak so as to prevent the shell from shutting; and then dashing it down on a rock, breaks it, and devours the inhabitant.

We frequently caught sight, too, of the frigate-bird, with its long forked tail sweeping behind as it came swooping down on its prey, which its keen eyes enable it to see from afar.

More curious to those who, like myself, have never been in the tropics, were the coveys of flying-fish, which rose out of the water, and even darted to great distances before their fins became dry and they fell again into their native element. Lejoillie told us that there were two species, one much smaller than the other. The larger are somewhat like red gurnards, and are said to prey on their smaller cousins, which are also pursued by bonitos, albicores, and dolphins of various species, as well as by numerous sea-birds. Several times we saw a large covey of the smaller kind rise above the surface, followed closely by another of the larger species, when at the same moment a dozen sea-birds would descend, and, quick as lightning, a dolphin would dart by, intent on sharing the prey. Looking down through the clear blue water, we could see the beautiful dorados, of pure turquoise hue, as they darted here and there, keeping away from the vessel while they gambolled round her.

We kept so close in-shore, that we could sometimes through our glasses distinguish the scissor-bills standing on the beach, and, in the distance, the buildings attached to the long staple cotton plantations for which the low islands are celebrated.

At length we came in sight of a line of sand-hills, with palmetto, pine, and live-oak growing at their summits, while below was a glittering beach, stretching away to the south; and close in front, low banks, over which the white-crested breakers dashed with a fury which made us careful not to get amongst them. To the south was a headland, which our skipper informed us was the north end of Amelia Island. Close to the island was a river of the same name, which united with another stream, the Saint Mary; they together made their way over a bar into the ocean. Crossing the bar, we passed close under the old Spanish Fort Fernandina, and shortly after brought up off a modern city called after the fort, consisting of half a dozen huts. We were now actually in Florida.

Lejoillie shrugged his shoulders, Rochford looked very blank, and I felt not a little disappointed; until the judge told us that we had only reached the most northern extremity of the country. The sight of what might some day become a thriving place did not afford us a favourable specimen of the scenery of Florida. Though there was not much to admire in the city itself, we saw several country houses surrounded by trees; but we were told that the sea-beach on the eastern side of the island, to the extent of thirty miles, is beautifully level, and so hard as to afford a delightful drive or ride.

The schooner having discharged her cargo, we again sailed, steering our course for the mouth of the Saint John River, twenty miles off.

As many of those who read my journal may be unacquainted with Florida, they may like to have a short description of the country. First, as to how it came to be called Florida. It was so named, it is said, by the Spaniard, Ponce de Leon, the first European who landed on its shores on Palm Sunday, 1513, either in honour of the day—Pasqua Florida—or because, being struck by the number and beauty of the flowers which covered the ground, he denominated it Terra Florida, or the Flowery Land. In shape it somewhat resembles a boot. The northern portion, joined to Georgia, is about three hundred miles from east to west; while the rest of the peninsula, which may be likened to the leg, extending from the Atlantic to the Gulf of Mexico, is about one hundred miles across. On both shores are numerous islands and sand-banks. There are neither mountains nor hills even, the greater part of the country rising but a few feet above the level of the sea. It contains, however, a great many lakes and a few rivers. The largest of the latter—the Saint John River—rises far away in the south, frequently expanding during the early part of its course into broad lakes, and in some places closely approaching the Atlantic coast. The southern point of Florida reaches to within twenty-five degrees of the equator, so that the vegetation is of a tropical character. Alligators swarm in the streams and pools; flowering shrubs of rare beauty clothe the banks of every river; and birds innumerable inhabit the forests, lakes, islets sand-banks, and sea-coast.

At the time I speak of there were several forts, with small garrisons, scattered here and there, and a few huts and stores in their neighbourhood; but the white settlers generally were located on the Atlantic coast or on the banks of the Saint John; while over the rest of the country the Seminoles, a detached tribe of the Creeks, who inhabited Georgia, roamed at large.

“A short time ago,” observed the judge, “the State of Georgia resolved to compel the Cherokees, the most civilised and most powerful of the Indian tribes, to abandon their territories, and remove to the western side of the Mississippi. Though they had written laws and an established government, the legislature of Georgia refused to allow them the rights of citizens, and passed a law, declaring ‘that no Indian, or descendant of an Indian, residing within the Creek or Cherokee nations of Indians, shall be deemed a competent witness or party to any suit or in any court where a white man is defendant.’

“Notwithstanding this, the Cherokees still determined to remain on the land of their fathers; but when they found that the whole of the white settlers of Georgia were arrayed against them, knowing that ultimately they would be compelled to succumb, they accepted the offers of government, and agreed, provided they were allowed time, to part with their lands and to remove to the territories allotted to them. The Creeks, then a numerous tribe inhabiting the western portion of Georgia, followed the example of the Cherokees, and consented to remove westward, although great opposition was offered by many of the chiefs to this treaty with the white men.

“The government of the United States, having succeeded with these two tribes, came to the resolution to deal with the Seminoles in the same manner, and had already issued a notice to their chiefs, ordering them to make preparations for migrating westward.

“Such was the state of the country at the time of which I am speaking.”

Rochford listened to the account given us by the judge, of which the above is only a brief outline. I observed his eyes flash, and the colour mount to his cheeks, but he restrained his feelings sufficiently to keep silence.

“I am more determined than ever to visit these ill-treated Indians, and endeavour, by some means or other, to serve them,” he said to me afterwards, as we stood together at a distance from the rest of the party.

“Let me know when you go,” I said; “for I should like to visit the red men in their native wilds, and learn their ways and customs.”

“I will not fail if I have an opportunity,” he answered. As Lejoillie joined us just then, he made no further remark.

In about three hours we were opposite some sand-hills and a lighthouse which mark the entrance to Saint John River; but as a long line of foam-covered breakers was rolling over the bar, our skipper ordered the sheets to be hauled aft, and we stood off, waiting until the tide had risen and we could pass with safety.

We had plenty of time to examine the lighthouse, which appeared to be entirely surrounded by the foaming sea. Many a gale it had stood, and being composed of solid masonry, it seemed capable of standing many more. Through our glasses we could distinguish a female form standing on the gallery. We inquired of the skipper who she was.

“She is the keeper’s wife; they say she’s not altogether right in her mind, so he brought her there, that she might be out of harm’s way. My idea is, she was fond of the bottle; but as she’s kept on short allowance out there, she is not likely to be the worse for liquor.”

“Poor creature! what a terrible existence for her, to be compelled to live from month to month surrounded by water, without seeing any one except her husband and his mate!” observed the judge’s wife.

“To my mind, marm, she’s better off up there out of the way of temptation than she would be if left at home alone hankering after the grog bottle. Maybe by the time she gets ashore she’ll be cured, and happier than she was before,” observed the skipper.

After making several tacks in sight of the lighthouse, we again kept before the wind, and the skipper taking the helm, we dashed on boldly towards the line of foaming breakers. The water bubbled and hissed around us, sometimes leaping up and falling with a splash on our deck. The schooner sailed on, and in a few minutes we were gliding calmly up the Saint John River, here a mile broad. We kept to the south shore for some time, till we came to a cliff some twenty feet in height, covered at the summit with palmetto, pine, and cedar.

Lejoillie inquired of the skipper the name of the cliff, and was told it was called Saint John Bluff; upon which he looked at it with great interest.

“Ah! I thought so,” he said; “it is the scene of the death of many of my compatriots. Have you not heard the story?”

“No,” I replied; “I thought the Spaniards were the only Europeans who held possession of the country until it was taken from them by the English, and being afterwards restored, was sold to the United States.”

“Ah! but I speak of some centuries ago, as far back as the year 1562. The brave Admiral Coligny wishing to found a settlement in the New World, where his co-religionists might be freed from the persecutions to which they were subjected, sent out a stout Breton navigator, Jean Ribaut, to search for a suitable spot.

“Entering the Saint John River, he fixed on yonder bluff, and, taking possession of it in the name of the King of France, he erected a stone to mark the site, and returned home with a favourable report. In a short time three ships were got ready to convey a large party of colonists, under the command of a Huguenot gentleman, Réné de Laudônière. On their arrival in the river, the Huguenots built a fort, which they called Fort Caroline, and strengthened it by stockades, behind which they might be able to defend themselves against the Indians, who, ill-treated by the Spaniards, had learned to look upon all white men as their enemies.

“For many months the colonists were ill supplied with provisions, but hoping to receive them from home, they struggled on, though closely surrounded by hostile natives. At first they endeavoured to win over the red men; but, pressed by hunger, they made prisoners of some, whom they detained as hostages, threatening them with punishment if food were not brought to the camp. The Indians, resenting this treatment, informed the Spaniards of the state of the French settlement, when Pedro de Menendez, who was engaged in the colonisation of the West Indies, landed on the coast, some miles south of the River Saint John, at the head of a large band of ruffian troops. Guided by a party of the treacherous Indians, he and his band made their way through the forests, and fell suddenly, sword in hand, on the almost defenceless colonists. Not a human being who could be overtaken was allowed to escape; men, women, and children were ruthlessly slaughtered by Menendez and his savage followers. When the work was done, he set up a stone, on which he caused to be engraved, ‘Not to Frenchmen, but to Lutherans and heretics.’ Laudônière, with a small party of followers, had been outside the fort when it was attacked. Getting down to the shore, they made their way on board a ship, one of a small squadron, under the command of Jean Ribaut, which had just arrived with new settlers and fresh provisions for the colony. The ship on board which the gallant Breton sailed had not reached the mouth of the river, but, encountering a storm, it had been thrown on shore some leagues farther to the south. Menendez, on hearing of this, immediately marched in search of the shipwrecked crew, numbering nearly one hundred men. Ribaut, on finding that Fort Caroline had fallen, agreed to surrender under a solemn promise from Menendez that his life and that of his companions would be spared. But no sooner had Ribaut and his party laid down their arms than they were set upon by the Spaniards, and slaughtered to a man. When Laudônière and the surviving colonists returned to France and told their sad tale, most of their countrymen only shrugged their shoulders, declaring that it was a fate Huguenots well merited, and the government declined to take any steps to punish the murderers.

“The history of the cruel act, however, inspired a Breton gentleman, Dominic de Gourgue, with the desire of avenging the outrage committed on his co-religionists. He soon collected round him a small body of friends animated by his spirit; but as the government would have put a stop to the expedition, they kept it a secret, giving out when they sailed that they were bound for the coast of Africa.

“Menendez had, in the meantime, rebuilt Fort Caroline, and established a colony on the spot. On the arrival of De Gourgue in Florida, he made friends with some Indians, who, having been cruelly treated by the Spaniards, gladly welcomed him. Guided by his Indian friends, he made his way through the forests and swamps, just as Menendez had done three years before. The French, rushing on, surprised the fort, and put every Spaniard within it to the sword. This act of retribution accomplished, De Gourgue erected a monument, on which he inscribed the words, ‘Not to Spaniards, but to robbers and murderers.’ He then set sail for France, where he arrived in safety.

“Since that day my countrymen have made no attempt to colonise the country; and from the view we have had of it hitherto, I consider they have acted wisely.”

I thought Monsieur Lejoillie’s account very interesting; but I have since reflected that although De Gourgue’s act of vengeance was sanctioned by the opinions of those days, it was utterly at variance with the spirit which should animate Christians, who profess to be guided by the precepts of the gospel.

After this the Spaniards made no attempt to rebuild Fort Caroline; and Saint Augustine, which was founded shortly after it some thirty miles farther south on the east coast, may therefore be considered the most ancient city on the American continent.

Not a vestige remains of Fort Caroline, which, probably being built of wood, soon fell into decay.

We continued our course west, up the broad river,—which has the appearance of an estuary, the country being flat and wooded on either side,—until, rounding a point, we began to steer due south, in the direction whence the river takes its rise, three hundred miles or so away.

Passing Cowford, near which now stands the very flourishing town of Jacksonville, then not in existence, we continued our course up the stream, here between two and three miles wide. We could see but little vegetation on the banks; but as we neared the shore, we saw that they were covered with forests of pine, live-oak, magnolia, and laurel, with occasional cypress swamps in the lower ground. The current was so sluggish that it impeded us very little; and as we made good way, the judge expressed a hope that we should reach his house—Roseville—early the next day. My uncle’s estate was only a few miles farther on, and the judge invited us to go on shore at his house, and to proceed there by land; but as my father was anxious to see his brother, he thanked the judge, and got the skipper to undertake to convey us thus far in the schooner, which was afterwards to go on to Bluespring, the most southern settlement then existing on the river.

As night approached, the weather suddenly changed, dark clouds gathering in the sky. The thunder roared, the lightning flashed, and the wind blew with a force which threatened to drive the schooner on the tree-fringed shore. We shortened sail, and endeavoured to gain the eastern bank, where we might have anchored in comparative safety. The generally calm surface of the river was broken into foaming seas, which dashed up over us, while the schooner heeled over to the blast. Sometimes I thought that our voyage would end in our being carried to the bottom to become the food of alligators. Before, however, so undesirable a catastrophe happened, our skipper bore up and ran for a creek on the western shore, with the navigation of which he was fortunately acquainted. After tearing along for a few minutes before the wind, we saw by the fast waning light an opening in the trees, towards which we steered, the branches almost catching our rigging. After lowering every stitch of canvas, we ran on a short time longer, and, rounding a point, brought up in what had the appearance of a lagoon, under the lee of some tall trees. Darkness suddenly came down upon us,—such darkness as I had never before witnessed, making the flashes of lightning which darted through the air, and crackled among the cypress-trees, appear still more vivid. The thunder crashed louder than ever; the wind roared and howled through the forest. The judge’s wife sat in her cabin, holding her boy in her arms and trying to quiet his alarm, while she herself retained her composure. Black Rosa, however, looked dreadfully frightened, and, crouching at the feet of her mistress, hid her eyes whenever a louder crash of thunder was heard.

We at length lay down, wrapped in our cloaks, in different parts of the vessel—on the top of the cargo, or wherever we could find room to stretch our legs—leaving the little cabin to the judge and his family. But what with cockroaches crawling over us, and the mosquitoes buzzing round our ears and running their sharp stings into our flesh, sleep appeared out of the question. However, I at length did close my eyes.

When I awoke I went on deck. The storm had passed away. Not a breath of air ruffled the surface of the lagoon, or stirred the boughs of the surrounding trees,—among which were cypresses, live-oak, water-oak, the cabbage-palm, and many others, festooned with wreaths of the gorgeous trumpet-flower of crimson hue, wild-vines, and parasites innumerable; while a short way off I could distinguish a meadow of tall grass or reeds a dozen feet in height at least. All nature seemed alive. Numberless birds, many of large size, flew through the air or waded on the banks. Among them were the black and white wood-ibis, which appeared in large flocks from among the branches of the trees; there were blue herons, snow-herons, pelicans, and cranes. Ever and anon an osprey could be seen darting into the water, to rise with a fish in his claws, which he was quickly compelled by the baldheaded eagle to drop. This true pirate of the air, soaring above on the look-out to deprive the weaker bird of its prey, generally seized it before it reached the water. Here and there, among the water-lilies, I caught sight of a happy family of small alligators, waiting for an opportunity to lay hold of the legs of some of the waders, who were, however, too cautious to be so entrapped.

While I was watching, a herd of deer, headed by a fine stag with branching horns, came down to the water to drink. The sight excited my sporting propensities; and rousing my father, Lejoillie, and Rochford, I proposed that we should borrow the schooner’s boat, and try to get a shot at them. The skipper, who had turned out of his bunk forward, consented to lend it, but advised us to look sharp, as, should a breeze spring up, he would sail immediately. Rochford, though the best sportsman of the party, as he shortly afterwards proved, declined to come. Tim and I took the oars, while my father and Lejoillie held their rifles ready to fire, as soon as we got near enough.

On leaving the schooner we kept close to the bank, so that we might approach the deer without being observed. “We should be afther keeping to windward; but when there is no wind, sure it’s a difficult matter to say which side to pull,” whispered Tim to me.

We selected the side from which a point projected thickly covered with long grass; and on rounding it, we expected to be close to where the deer were standing. We roused numberless water-fowl, many of magnificent plumage; and I saw Lejoillie lift his rifle, as if inclined to fire.

“If you do, we shall miss the deer, to a certainty,” observed my father. “The birds will stay for us until we come back, so that we can bag them by-and-by.”

I kept my rifle by my side, ready for service. We rowed on, now and then knocking a young alligator on the nose as he popped his ugly head out of the water to have a look at us.

“Faith it isn’t a place I’d like to be capsized in,” observed Tim in a low whisper.

At length we got close to the end of the point. “Now, give way, boys,” said my father; and we pulled round it as quickly as we could.

In another instant we were face to face with the deer, not thirty yards away from us. I drew in my oars. The herd gazed at the boat a few moments, giving us time to take a steady aim. My father hit the buck; and the same instant I shot a doe, which had turned to fly, but dropped before she had got many paces. Lejoillie wounded another; but, notwithstanding, the animal went off with the rest of the herd.

Tim and I having resumed our oars, we pulled in to secure our prey. Rushing in among the reeds, we sprang on shore, and quickly put out of suffering the deer which had first fallen. Not to lose time, we carried it to the boat, that it might be cut up on board. We were returning for the other, when a number of figures, bursting out of the forest, rushed towards us; some running to intercept the deer wounded by Lejoillie, others bounding along in the direction of the one I had shot. A glance showed us that they were red men, with feathers in their hair, their leathern dresses ornamented with coloured beads and cloth.

“Shove off!” cried my father. “These fellows don’t look very friendly; and it will be as well to be out of their reach, until we see what temper they are in.”

Doing as he directed, we pulled the boat a short distance away from the shore, when the Indians, lifting the deer, carried it off, casting a look of triumph behind them.

“Sure, that’s pretty impudent, to carry off our game before our very eyes!” exclaimed Tim. “You’ll be afther shootin’ them, captain, won’t you?”

“I should certainly be sorry to shed blood for a deer,” answered my father; “but we will show them that they do not escape from our want of the means to punish them.” And lifting the rifle he had just reloaded, he sent a shot which struck a tree a considerable distance beyond the Indians. Observing it, they redoubled their speed, and were soon beyond our reach. We had, however, secured one deer, which would afford us more venison than we could use.

On our return, Lejoillie shot a number of birds of various species, being highly satisfied with his morning’s sport. Disregarding the neighbourhood of the Indians, he set up the birds on reaching the schooner, and began drawing them as rapidly as he could.

The judge seemed greatly surprised at the appearance of the Indians, and their behaviour. “I thought that they had all beat a retreat from this part of the country,” he observed. “It is fortunate that they did not catch you, for they are treacherous fellows, and would probably have taken your scalps, as well as your rifles and ammunition; and if they could have got hold of the boat, they would have boarded the Great Alexander, and to a certainty put us all to death.”

Mrs Shurtleff looked dreadfully frightened, and hugged her boy as the judge spoke.

“I cannot believe that the noble Indians would have been guilty of so barbarous an act,” exclaimed Rochford. “They probably considered the deer their own, and that they were justified in carrying it off.”

“Wait, my dear sir, till you have seen more of these red-skinned gentlemen before you pronounce an opinion,” said the judge; and Rochford was silent.

We lost no time in cutting up the deer, and had some of the venison steaks for breakfast. Soon after, a light breeze enabled us to get clear of the creek, and once more to continue our course up the main stream.

The judge talked a good deal about the Indians. “The Redskins require to be kept in order,” he remarked. “They will not, however, dare to face white men who show a bold front, as our settlers are sure to do if attacked.” I did not forget the judge’s remarks. Before long we were to have fearful proof of the mistaken character of his views.

It was some time past noon when we came in sight of several huts or shanties scattered along the shore, with a store or two, a chapel of unpretending architecture, and a few other public buildings, which the judge pointed out as the commencement of a city. Soon afterwards, running into a small bay, we hove-to before a house of superior pretensions, with a veranda round it, backed by an orange grove, a vegetable garden and orchard on one side, and plantations of various sorts on the other. It was the judge’s home. He warmly pressed my father and me to accompany him on shore, Rochford and Lejoillie having accepted the invitation he had given them. But my father, eager, as I before remarked, to reach my uncle’s house, declined promising, however, if possible, to visit him on a future day.

Chapter Three.

First view of my uncle’s house—The landing—My cousins—We are shown over Castle Kearney—In the orange grove—A pleasant walk—My uncle’s health—Proposed visit to Judge Shurtleff—A Florida hummock—Rita and the puma—A timely shot—Captain Norton—Shall we turn back?—Arrival and reception at Roseville—The Judge on Indian troubles—The chief inn of the settlement—Captain Norton and the black—An agreeable evening—A strange disappearance.

“There’s where Nicholas Kearney lives,” observed the skipper, pointing to a small island off the left bank of the river, towards which we were steering. “I’ll send the boat on shore, gentlemen, with you and your traps, and will heave the schooner to until she returns. As we shall be up to the spot in a short time, the sooner you are ready the better.”

I looked eagerly ahead, but at first could distinguish only a wood of cabbage-palms and pines towering above the shrubbery of magnolias and laurels. As we got nearer, I caught sight of the roof of a house on the inner side of the island. We had enough to do, however, in getting our traps into the boat, which was hauled up alongside. The schooner was hove-to, and two blacks stepping in to pull, we wished the skipper farewell, and shoved off.

“I trust you may find your brother better than you expect, captain,” he said, as he waved his hand.

We had some little distance to go, as we had to row to the western or inner side of the island, where the captain told us we should find the only landing-place. As we approached, our astonishment was considerable on seeing the style of house inhabited by my uncle and his family. It was a building of considerable pretensions, erected on piles close to the edge of the water, above which it rose with a somewhat sombre and gloomy aspect. Not a window could be seen on the lower story, and the only entrance, which had the appearance of a gateway, with a portcullis, looked towards the mainland, to which access was obtained by a drawbridge, lowered and raised by two heavy chains. A broad veranda ran round the building above the ground-floor, on which the windows, unusually narrow, opened. From the part of the veranda above the entrance of the gate, projected the muzzles of two ship’s guns, commanding the approach to the house on the opposite side. The windows of the upper story were exceedingly small, and seemed intended to serve as loopholes for musketry, as well as to afford light to the rooms. The building was entirely surrounded by a strong palisade of stout timber; and besides this, there was, along the edge of the water, an outer line of defence of the same character, pierced here and there with loopholes. Altogether, it had the appearance of a regular fortress of the olden days; though, if attacked by an enemy possessing cannon, it could not have afforded protection to its garrison for a single hour. But it was well calculated to resist an attack from Indians, even if armed with musketry.

“How are we to get in?” asked my father. “Stop, massa cap’n, me holloa,” said one of the rowers. “Hi dare, Pedro Manoel, one ob you niggers dare. Some gen’lemen come to see padrone; hurry up an’ let dem in.”

Instead of a black, a youth appeared on the balcony with a rifle in his hand; but seeing us, he waved his hand, and quickly disappeared.

In a short time a small wicket in the palisade, which we had not before noticed, was opened, and the same youth appeared, and pointed to some steps by which we could reach it.

“Who are you?” he asked, as we got up.

“My son and I have come to visit my brother, Nicholas Kearney,” said my father.

“What! are you Uncle Michael, to whom my father wrote some time back?” exclaimed the youth. “He’ll be very glad to see you, for he has been doubting whether you would come.” And the speaker, who was, as I rightly conjectured, my cousin Carlos, turning round, shouted up a passage, when several blacks came rushing down, and forthwith began assisting Tim and me in landing our traps.

Dismissing the boat with a present to the crew, we followed Carlos up the dark passage which led into the interior of the building. On reaching the upper floor, we had abundance of light.

“I’ll tell my father of your arrival,” said Carlos. “It might agitate him too much if you walked in without being announced. In the meantime, you will find my mother and sisters in yonder room. As the windows look up the river, they did not perceive your arrival.—Go and tell the ladies that Captain Kearney and his son have arrived,” said Carlos to one of the blacks, who appeared to be a butler or major-domo.

By this time I had been able to observe my young cousin. His figure was small but well built, his features regular, his complexion and black hair showing his Spanish descent. He seemed to be wonderfully self-possessed, and his manners were those, as far as I could judge, of a well-bred young gentleman. That Carlos might have time to prepare Uncle Nicholas for our arrival, we followed the servant into the sitting-room.

“Who do you say?” asked a voice in Spanish, as the black announced us.

The man had time to repeat what he had said before we advanced. On entering the room we saw three ladies, the eldest one with a spinning-wheel by her side, the other two, evidently my young cousins, busily plying their needles.

On hearing our names, the two girls, jumping from their seats, hurried forward to meet us, exclaiming, “Uncle Michael!—Cousin Maurice!” and as they did so, they presented their fair cheeks to be kissed.

The elderly lady rose more leisurely, and with stately politeness welcomed us to Castle Kearney. “My husband will indeed rejoice to see you,” she said in very good English. “He has been a sad invalid for a long time, and keeps much to his own room. He told us that he had written to you, and was sure that you would come if you were able, so that we had begun to look out for your arrival, though we scarcely expected that you could reach us so soon. He is full of anxiety about the present and future of the country, which, owing to the warlike character of the natives, he considers to be in a more alarming condition than most settlers will allow; hence the fortified state of our dwelling-house, with which you must have been struck as you approached.”

My father replied that he considered his brother had shown wisdom in protecting his family against any attack which might be made on the house by the Indians. He then explained how we had been fortunate in finding a vessel sailing for Savannah, and had come on without a moment’s delay. My cousins and I were soon engaged in a lively conversation, they rapidly asking questions which I had to answer.

On hearing that Judge Shurtleff and his wife and little boy had returned, they both declared that they must, as soon as possible, go and pay a visit to the lady, who was a great friend of theirs, though Juanita said that she could not admire her taste in marrying the old judge.

“But then she has such a charming little boy; he is a great pet of ours,” exclaimed Rita.

When I told her how nearly he had been lost, and how Rochford had leaped overboard to save him, she exclaimed—

“Oh, I should so like to see your friend! He must be a fine fellow.”

“What if he were a little hump-backed man, with one eye?” I observed, laughing. “Still the gallantry he displayed would be the same, and probably he would have run still greater risk of being drowned. However, as he is staying with the judge, you will be able to form an opinion about him if you go over to see your friends.”

The conversation was here interrupted by the entrance of Carlos to summon us to his father’s room. My uncle, who had risen from a network hammock in which he had been reclining, stretched out both his hands, and grasping those of my father, exclaimed as he looked him in the face—

“I knew, Michael, that we loved each other as boys, and that age would not diminish your affection more than it has mine. Your coming proves that I was right; and I thank you, I thank you.” As he spoke, he threw his arms round his brother’s neck and burst into tears.

My father then introduced me to my uncle, who gave me an affectionate reception. In a short time Carlos returned, and invited me to come with him, which I gladly did, that I might leave the two brothers to themselves.

“Would you like to inspect our castle, and see my guns, and dogs, and fishing-tackle? Or do you wish to go back to the girls, to whom you appear to have had plenty to say just now when I interrupted you?”

He spoke in a somewhat sarcastic tone, which I did not altogether like.

“I shall be happy to return to the young ladies if you think they wish it,” I answered.

“Oh, of course; they cannot fail to be delighted with a young gentleman who can give them all the news of the old country,” he answered, leading the way back to the drawing-room.

“Here, girls, Cousin Maurice puts himself at your disposal; talk away as long as you like, and when you have done with him send for me. I in the meantime have matters of importance to attend to.” Having made this remark, he hurried out of the room with an air which made me much inclined to laugh. My fair cousins, however, did not appear to notice the style of his exit, and talked on as before, asking all sorts of questions, and answering those I put to them. My aunt spoke little; indeed, I was struck with her reserved manner and melancholy expression of countenance. After a time Carlos returned.

“Well, are you now inclined to take a stroll round our castle and grounds?” he said.

“With much pleasure,” I replied.

“We’ll go too,” exclaimed the young ladies together; and each putting on a large straw hat which lay near them, they accompanied us.

Carlos led the way with the air of a person who considers himself master of the house. He first showed me the various rooms, which opened into a broad passage, and then going into the veranda, he pointed out how completely it commanded the approaches to the house on every side.

“You see these two guns, and you observe that we can wheel them round to any point which may be attacked. Not that I, for my part, believe the Redskins will ever venture to come near us.”

The house, I saw, was built on a point, so that, except on one side, it was surrounded by water. The upper floor to which he conducted us contained several rooms. The roof, however, was low, the windows narrow, and so placed that musketry could be fired from them in all directions, or missiles could also be showered down on the heads of any assailants who might reach the gallery below. The rooms were furnished in a way suitable to the climate, and wore an air of neatness and comfort. Two of them, I guessed, from their appearance, belonged to my fair cousins; while another, the walls of which were ornamented with guns and pistols, swords, bows and other Indian weapons, Carlos told me was his.

At the back of the house were outbuildings and huts, in which the blacks on the property lived; and the whole of the rest of the island was occupied by an orange grove and garden, in which grew a great variety of vegetables.

“Now you must come down and see the lower regions of our castle,” said Carlos, descending the steps.

The ground-floor had but a few strongly-barred windows, opening on the water, which we had not observed on approaching, and a single door into the back of the house. There was a kitchen of large size on one side, and on the other the rooms of the domestics.

“We are not without our dungeon,” said Carlos, striking his hand against a strongly-barred door. “A captive would find it a difficult task to get out of this, and it has safely held more than one in its time.”

“As soon as Maurice is satisfied with a sight of this gloomy place, I hope that he will come and see the garden,” exclaimed Rita, I of course said, “Yes.”

Two fine dogs, whose kennels were near the entrance, came up, wagging their tails, and rubbing their noses against my legs, as if to know me again. A short distance to the right were some open sheds serving as stables, in which were several stout horses, generally called mustangs in that part of the world. The girls said that they and their brother frequently rode out on horseback, but that of late they were not allowed to go far from home. Passing the huts of the slaves, which for economy of space were huddled close to the stables, we entered the orange grove. It was the first I had been in. In all directions ran small aqueducts formed of bamboo, so that the ground might be easily irrigated. The water, my cousins told me, was let on every evening, and while we were there, we saw it trickling along the miniature canals, and almost instantly the flowers gave forth the most delicious perfume.

“That’s what the Spaniards call ‘returning thanks,’” observed Juanita. “It is a pretty idea, is it not?”

Carlos, fancying that I took more pleasure in the society of his sisters, left us, and I had a pleasant stroll round the whole island with my cousins. They showed me that the wild trees I had seen coming up the river were left there merely as a protection to the garden, and I saw that the stockades which surrounded the island were so placed as to prevent any persons landing, and might serve also as an outer fortification to the castle. When we returned to the house, we found supper prepared, and my uncle, accompanied by my father, entered the room.

“Why, papa, you are already better for Uncle Michael’s coming,” said Rita, giving him a kiss.

“I feel so,” answered Uncle Nicholas. “I hope, before long, to be myself again, and be able to show him and Maurice some of the wonders of the country.”

The young ladies, mentioning the arrival of the judge, begged permission to ride over the next morning to pay their friend his wife and little Paul a visit.

“You need have no fear of Indians,” observed Carlos; “for it is said that the few families which occasionally visited this neighbourhood have moved away west, having probably made up their minds to accept the offers of the government and vacate the country.”

When I mentioned our encounter with the Indians in the lagoon, he replied that they were probably a party of hunters who considered that they had a better right to the deer than we had, and that, notwithstanding the apprehensions of the old judge, they would not likely have molested us; besides which, as the place was a long way off, we should certainly not meet with them on our contemplated excursion. Though my uncle at first offered some objections to the proposal, he ultimately gave his daughters permission to make the excursion.

Tim came into my room before he went to bed, and expressed himself as highly satisfied with his quarters.

“Sure, it’s a fine place, Mr Maurice,—a regular castle. The drawbridge is raised and the portcullis closed, so that a thieving Redskin would find it a hard matter to make his way in. From what I hear, it is not unlikely that before long they’ll be trying to drive the whites out of the country.”

“I heard very differently at supper,” I observed. “My uncle is satisfied they are peaceably disposed, and that there will be no more trouble about them.”

“That’s because he gets his knowledge from the whites, Mr Maurice. The nigger boys know more of what’s going on than they do.”

After breakfast next morning we set out on our expedition. Carlos had provided me with a pony like those he and his sisters rode. We were accompanied by Toby, a black boy, who went to hold the horses and make himself useful in any other way, and by Tim, who carried a rifle. I took mine, and Carlos said that he never went out without a brace of pistols and a fowling-piece.

The ground in the immediate neighbourhood of Castle Kearney was part of my uncle’s property, and was well cultivated; but we very soon got into the primeval forests, where the woodman’s axe had been employed only in cutting a path along which baggage animals could proceed in single file. The trees were mostly live-oak or pine, amid which grew magnolias and laurels. The ground was very uneven, though from the river it looked level. We had to cross what is called a hummock, which was in reality a depression, but not low enough to be swampy. Here grew huge cabbage-palms, cotton-trees, and scarlet maples, with a dense undergrowth of sumach, hydrangeas, azaleas, and many other shrubs; while from the branches hung in profusion wild-vines, convolvuli of many colours, and numerous other parasites. The path was so narrow, that although we had previously contrived to ride two abreast, we were now obliged to allow one to go before the other. Rita, with whom I had been riding, whipping on her pony, dashed forward, exclaiming,—“I am in my native land; it is my duty to show you the way, Maurice.”

Several trees had fallen over the path, which was exceedingly rough. Her little mustang leaped them, however, with wonderful activity, and mine followed. She had got some distance ahead, when suddenly I heard her utter a cry; her pony stopped short; I saw her clasp her hands as if paralysed with fear. She had cause for alarm. Not five paces off, crawling along the top of a bank, was a huge puma, apparently about to spring upon her. In another instant the monster might have seized her in its paws and carried her into the jungle, where none of us could have followed. I shouted to try and frighten the brute, and endeavoured in the meantime to unsling my rifle; but my pony, alarmed, endeavoured to turn round, and I was compelled to handle my rein to make him go forward: indeed, it would have been difficult to fire without a fearful risk of injuring my cousin. While I was endeavouring to make my horse move forward, and at the same time to unsling my rifle, expecting every moment to see the puma make its fatal spring, I heard a shot, and the animal, leaping into the air, fell over dead close to the pony’s feet. On looking round, I saw that it was a stranger on horseback who had fired the shot.

I made my way up to Rita’s side, for I thought she would have fallen, but she quickly recovered herself.

“I was in a dreadful fright, Maurice,” she said; “but you saved me from the creature’s claws by your timely shot.”

“No, it was that person out there,” I said, pointing to the stranger, who now, leaping over the fallen trunks, joined us close to where the puma lay.

He bowed politely to Rita, and I now saw by his uniform that he was a military officer. Of course, I thanked him, as did my cousin. On the rest of the party coming up, they joined us in expressing our gratitude.

He laughed as he answered, “I should have been glad to have killed the beast at all events, so pray don’t thank me. Let me ask where you are going. I don’t think it prudent for ladies to be riding through the country without a large escort.”

On hearing that we were going to the judge’s, he advised us to hasten on, saying that he was going in the same direction, and would be happy to accompany us. He introduced himself as Captain Norton, and told us that he had received information that a band of Indians was in the neighbourhood, and that he was about to collect a party of volunteers to defend the settlement should they exhibit any hostile intentions. Hearing this, I proposed to Carlos to return; but he was of opinion that as we had already performed three-fourths of the distance, we should proceed to the settlement, observing that there were plenty of people to defend Castle Kearney, that a sharp look-out was always kept there, and that it was very improbable that the Indians, even if they were intent on mischief, would venture to attack it.

Captain Norton agreed with Carlos; and as Rita had now recovered from her fright, we continued our course as before.

Getting clear of the hummock, we were now in more open ground. In a short time a hut came in sight, then another and another, and we found that we were in the suburbs of Roseville. The huts varied in character, though most were of the roughest description. Some were built of logs placed horizontally one upon another, others were frame erections covered with boards; very few were of a more substantial character. At last several edifices of superior architectural pretensions, having two stories and broad verandas on all the sides, and surrounded by gardens and orchards, came into view.

Captain Norton parted from us at the outskirts of the settlement, saying that he should have to call officially on the judge, and hoped to hear that Miss Kearney had not suffered any ill effects from the alarm she had experienced.

“You need be under no apprehensions on that score, captain,” said Rita, laughing; “I am quite myself again, though none the less grateful to you for having saved me from the claws of that hideous creature.”

The judge was pacing up and down the broad veranda surrounding his house, while little Paul, with a hobby-horse between his legs, was trotting about, watched over by black Rosa. The judge waved his hand while he shouted indoors to his wife, “Marian, Marian, here come our friends from Castle Kearney.” Then taking hold of Master Paul’s hand, he ordered Rosa to call the boys to look after the horses.

Mrs Shurtleff quickly made her appearance, and she and her husband greeted the young ladies as they ran up the steps, and gave Carlos and me a cordial welcome. When the judge heard of Rita’s narrow escape, he exclaimed—

“We must have a broad road cut through that hummock. It will not be safe to traverse until that’s done. We are all deeply indebted to Captain Norton for his timely shot, and I shall be happy to make his acquaintance if he comes here.”

We inquired for Rochford and Lejoillie.

“They went away at daybreak into the forest—the one bent on slaughtering game, the other on collecting objects of natural history. A clever fellow is that Frenchman, and I have begged him to remain here as long as he can find subjects for scientific research,” he answered.

When we told him the object of Captain Norton’s visit to Roseville, he laughed, and replied—

“I don’t believe the Indians will venture near the place; they know too well the effect of our fellows’ rifles. Since I came home, I find that a treaty has been entered into with them. The meeting took place at Payne’s Landing, on the Ocklawaha River, and they have agreed, in the course of a few months, to move westward across the Mississippi, where the Creeks and Cherokees are also about to migrate; so that we shall, in a short time, I hope, see the end of all these Indian troubles.”

We found that the judge had business to attend to, and Carlos suggested that we should take a stroll through the settlement. We had got some little distance, when my companion pointed out, with a laugh, the chief inn of the place, in front of which, nailed to a tree, hung the sign of “The General Washington.” It was a weather-boarded shanty, fixed up in an open space between several trees, which the builder had not thought it worth while to cut down. From the boughs hung several cages full of birds, while a number of hideous little mongrel dogs ran about, attended by a black boy, who sat on the steps, apparently having nothing else to do than to scratch his woolly pate. As we approached, Captain Norton rode up, and calling to the boy, directed him to summon his master.

“What you want him for, massa cap’n?” asked the black.

“I tell you to call him,” answered the captain.

“Him fast ’sleep in him hammock now. No want to be ’sturbed.”

“Go and call him, whether he is asleep or awake,” said the captain, getting angry.

Just then a person, who I had no doubt was “mine host,” appeared at the door, though as unlike my notion of what a landlord should be as possible.

“Wal, cap’n, what do you want?” he asked.

“I am sent to require you, and all able-bodied men to turn out armed, for the defence of the country, and of this settlement in particular, against the Redskins, who, we have information, are approaching the place with the intention of attacking it.”

“I guess though we’ll soon put them to the right about,” answered mine host. “Won’t you step in and liquor?”

The officer excused himself, and having mentioned the spot where the volunteers were to rendezvous, he turned his horse and rode towards us. We asked him what success he had had in obtaining recruits.

“Those living on the outskirts are willing enough,” he said; “but some of those whose houses are near the river, and who believe that the Indians will not molest them, are less inclined to turn out.”

As our new friend had to hurry on, we parted with him; but he promised to call at the judge’s in the evening.

Wherever we went, we found people talking about the supposed approach of the Indians, though no one seemed to think there was much chance of their attacking the settlement. We hoped, on getting back, to find Rochford and Lejoillie; but they had not returned. Soon afterwards, Captain Norton came in, and the judge and Mrs Shurtleff, by their kind reception, at once made him feel at home. He appeared to be much struck with my cousins, and I heard him observe to the judge’s wife that he was not aware such charming young ladies were to be found in that part of the country. Rita was, at all events, well pleased to listen to his conversation, which was lively and sensible.

Late in the evening Lejoillie arrived, guided by a black whom he had engaged for the purpose. He had lost sight, he said, of Rochford, and though he had hunted about in every direction, he could not rejoin him. He hoped, however, that he would before long find his way home.

Latterly we became somewhat uneasy at the non-appearance of our countryman. Could he possibly have fallen into the hands of Indians? If so, anxious as he was to serve them, they, ignorant of this, would kill and scalp him as certainly as they would any other white man.

The night passed on. The judge sent us to our sleeping-rooms, saying that he would have a watch kept to let our friend in, should he appear. The captain had, I found, also sent out scouts, to prevent the risk of the settlement being surprised; and before he turned in, he rode round, to ascertain that they were on the alert.

Chapter Four.

Rochford’s disappearance—Organising a searching party—Muster of the Roseville Volunteers—The start—A pine-barren—Through hummocks, swamps, and forests—A mid-day halt—The alarm—Strange behaviour of our party—Recovery from the panic—Scouts—Rochford and the native Chief—The return to Roseville—An introduction to the Judge—Our native guest—His strange disappearance—What Captain Norton knew about him—A pleasant discovery—Rumours of Indian outrages—Hunting expedition—Rochford and Juanita—Good excuses—An incident in the orangery—Cuban blood-hound—An ocelot—A successful day—Rochford again goes off—Search for him—A note of explanation received—Return home.

When I awoke in the morning, I sincerely hoped to find that Rochford had returned; but on inquiry I was told that he had not made his appearance, nor had any news been received of him. Lejoillie, who had taken a great liking to him, became more and more anxious, especially when he heard that Indians were in the neighbourhood.

“I have no wish to lose my scalp, even for the sake of science; and it will be a great disappointment to me if I am unable to continue my travels through the country,” he remarked.

“You need not be anxious,” said the judge; “these Indian troubles will soon be put a stop to. If Rochford doesn’t return during the morning, we must organise an expedition to search for him. I fear that I cannot undergo the fatigue myself, but I will use my influence with others; and with the assistance of Captain Norton, we may send out a strong body, who will defy the Redskins, should any be met with. In my opinion, however, the appearance of a few hunters, or a single family or so, probably gave rise to the report.”

The judge’s idea was entertained by the greater part of the inhabitants, and, I suspect, contributed not a little to the readiness with which they volunteered to form a party to go in search of our missing friend. Captain Norton, who was met by an orderly and four troopers, had to leave us and push on to carry out his instructions. Before he left, he warned the people not to venture far from the settlement. He especially counselled Carlos not to allow his sisters to return by land, but advised that, as soon as possible, they should go back by the river, as he considered that Castle Kearney was the safest place in the neighbourhood. The remainder of the day was spent in preparations; and it was agreed that the party should set off the next morning, should Rochford in the meantime not have made his appearance.

Carlos at first declared that as he had nothing to do with the stranger, he should remain to look after his sisters; but he afterwards consented to join the party, Tim and I, with Lejoillie, felt ourselves bound to go.

As Rochford did not return, the Roseville volunteers assembled in front of the judge’s house at daybreak, the time agreed on. They formed a motley group, in every variety of costume: some were whites, others brown men and blacks, with two or three half-caste Indians. The question was, who should take the command. The judge would have been the proper person; but as he could not possibly go—and had he done so, he would have greatly impeded the progress of more active men—Lejoillie, though a stranger, was requested to lead the party.

“For one object I will go,” he said. “I am not fond of fighting; but I wish to find my friend, and will endeavour to conduct you to the best of my ability.”

We mustered between thirty and forty men and boys, with all sorts of arms and, as I have said, in every variety of costume. Each man had been directed to carry provisions for his own consumption, as we should certainly be out the whole of one day, and perhaps for a night and a second day. I don’t know what Captain Norton would have said had he seen us as we marched along in a straggling fashion, many of the men with pipes in their mouths, and all either talking or laughing loudly.

Having left the settlement behind, we crossed a wide extent of prairie land, where the sun beat down on our heads, and we had to force our way among the sharp teeth of the saw-palmetto, which scratched our legs and tore our trousers, and sometimes inflicted disagreeable wounds. Then we came to what is called a “pine-barren;” the ground being flat and the soil of a sandy nature, out of which rose enormous tall pines, having beneath them a growth of rank grass, and here and there clumps of low bushes, well calculated to conceal an enemy, while our course was often impeded by fallen trunks and half-burned stumps. Several times we had to turn aside to avoid the swampy ponds, fringed with tall saw-grass; from amid which rose snipes, plovers, and wild-ducks, and occasionally flocks of the beautiful white egret and snowy heron. The water was brackish, and covered with lilies of varied colours; from amid which, every now and then, alligators popped out their heads to look at us. Other birds, among them the great sand-hill crane, stalked about, until, uttering loud whoops, they took to flight, frightened by our shouts.

When we came to spots where the forest was too thick to see far ahead, we sent out scouts; but I observed that few of the men were willing to get out of hearing of the main body. At last we found ourselves in another hummock: a dense jungle of tall cabbage-palms, oaks, hickory and cotton-trees, with an undergrowth of shrubs such as are to be found only in carefully-cultivated gardens in England—hydrangeas, azaleas, lobelias, and shrubs and creepers of varied colours and gorgeous hues; while overhead the green leaves of the wild-vine and other climbers formed a delicious roof to shelter us from the sun’s rays. Out of the wood burst forth a concert of song-birds, amid which the notes of the sweet-toned mocking-bird could be especially distinguished. To Carlos it was no novelty, nor was it to most of our companions; but Lejoillie and I were delighted.

We had as yet discovered no trace of our friend. The few woodmen we met had seen nothing of him. We had passed the spot where Lejoillie and he had separated; and we felt convinced that unless we took a much wider range, we should have little chance of finding him.

Several of the party now called out that they were getting hungry; and as we had reached a shady spot, we agreed to halt and dine.

“Before we do so, gentlemen, we must ascertain that no enemies are lurking in the neighbourhood,” said Lejoillie.

Accordingly, he directed three of the men, who had proved to be the best scouts, to push forward and examine the ground around us. Many of the party had unstrapped their wallets; some had thrown themselves on the ground; and others had gone to a green and unattractive pool to obtain water.

Two of the scouts had come in, and assured us that they could discover no trace of the red men. “We may then venture to recruit our strength, my friends,” said Lejoillie.

Carlos and I seated ourselves before a fire kindled by Tim, at which he was cooking some slices of bacon. Our motley party lay about in all directions: some had thrown aside their coats, as well as their shoes and hats; and others had even taken off their shirts, that they might the more completely enjoy the cool air. We had begun our meal, and Lejoillie was offering Carlos a petit verre from a bottle he carried at his side, when suddenly a shout was raised—“The Redskins! the Redskins are upon us!”

“Stand to your arms, men!” cried Lejoillie, leaping up.

Carlos and I, following his example, seized our rifles; Tim did the same. But the words produced a terrifying effect on the rest of our companions, who, without waiting to ascertain the number of our enemies or how far off they were, took to their heels, and scampered away, leaving their hats, coats, and shoes behind them, many even forgetting their rifles. In vain Carlos, Lejoillie, and I shouted to them to stop.

“Halt, ye villains! halt!” cried Tim, “or I’ll be afther sendin’ a shot among ye that’ll make a hole in one of your backs.”

Tim’s threat produced no effect, and away went our brave party, tumbling over each other; and certainly, had the Redskins been close at hand, every one of us would have been scalped.

The scout who had given the alarm, and who was a brave fellow, now joined us, and explained that he had seen a large party of Indians in the distance, making, as he supposed, towards the hummock; and that he had shouted out, not supposing that his warning would have produced so terrifying an effect.

Lejoillie directed him to hurry on, and try to induce the men to come back for their clothes and arms; and to point out to them that should their flight be discovered by the Indians, they would certainly follow, believing they would obtain an easy victory; whereas, if we were to halt and show a bold front, they would probably not attempt to molest us.

Tim accompanied the scout, and fortunately overtaking the fugitives, gave them Lejoillie’s message. Having pointed out that we had remained behind, and that the Indians were still at a distance, they induced them at length to come back and collect their scattered garments. We then retreated at a rapid rate, in somewhat better order than before, as we were anxious to get out of the hummock, where the Indians, had they discovered us, would have taken us at a great disadvantage. In the open prairie, or even in the pinewood, we should have no fear of the Indians, though more numerous than ourselves, as our rifles would tell with more deadly effect than their inferior arms or bows and arrows. I cannot say that I felt very confident that, should an enemy appear, the Roseville volunteers would not again cut and run. I must say, however, that most of the heroes looked very much ashamed of themselves. The truth was, they had been seized with a panic, such as occurs sometimes even among regular troops. Lejoillie, who was acting as their leader, was a stranger to them, and they probably also had very little confidence in each other. Having got to a sufficient distance from the hummock to prevent it affording shelter to an enemy firing at us, a halt was called, and Lejoillie advised that scouts should be sent back to ascertain the whereabouts of the Indians.

Carlos and I volunteered to undertake the duty. On hearing this, Tim stepped forward.

“Sure, Mr Maurice dear, it’ll be better for me, an old soldier, accustomed to the ways of the savages, to go out and scout than you,” he said. “What could I say to the capt’n if the varmints were to shoot you down and take your scalp?”

“I am not afraid of that,” I said. “If my cousin and I hang back, we cannot expect the rest of the people to show any courage; though I shall be very glad if you will accompany us.”

“Then, Mr Maurice dear, I’ll go with you,” said Tim; “and if I say, ‘Run,’ just promise me that you will run; and I won’t say it unless I see it is the best thing to be done.”

To this I agreed, knowing that Tim was a stanch old soldier, who would not beat a retreat unless we were likely to be overpowered.

On seeing us prepared to set out, two other men stepped forward who had before acted as scouts. We made our way as rapidly as we could towards the hummock. Advancing quickly through the forest, keeping ourselves concealed from any one in front by stooping down behind bushes, or running from one trunk to another, we reached the spot where our party had so ignominiously taken to flight, without having seen an enemy. After this, we expected every instant to discover the Indians who had caused the alarm, as, unless they had halted, they could not be far off. We had thus worked our way to the farther side of the hummock, when looking out from behind a tree I had just reached, I saw two persons advancing across the open, neither of whom had much the look of an Indian.

“Sure that’s not the band of Redskins that set our fellows running so hard!” exclaimed Tim, who had at the same time caught sight of the two men.

As they drew nearer, to my infinite satisfaction I discovered that one was Rochford. It was difficult to determine whether the other, a tall, fine-looking man in hunter’s costume, was an Indian or a white.

There being no further need for concealment, I hurried forward, followed by Tim, when Rochford and his companion rapidly advanced to meet us.

“Where have you been?” I exclaimed. “We feared that you had met with some accident, and we have been hunting for you all the morning.”

“I am sorry to have caused you and my other friends any anxiety, but I could not help myself,” he answered. “While chasing a deer which I had wounded, I was made prisoner by a band of natives, who dragged me off, and were about, I feared, to put me to death, supposing that I was a settler, when my companion here, who is a chief of importance among them, made his appearance. On my explaining who I was, and my object in coming to Florida, he at once set me at liberty, and treated me with the greatest kindness. As he appeared anxious to see the settlement, I induced him to accompany me to Roseville, having pledged myself for his safety.”

“No one would wish to interfere with him,” I observed. “I feel very sure he will meet with a friendly reception.”

To my surprise, the Indian chief, turning to me, said, in perfectly good English—

“I know that I can rely on the honour of an Irishman. My sole object in entering the settlement is to assure the white inhabitants that my countrymen desire peace, and that they need be under no apprehension of an attack from us. All we wish is to retain our hunting-grounds, and to cultivate our lands unmolested.”

While we were speaking, Carlos and the two other men came up, when Rochford’s companion repeating what he had said to me, they invited him to accompany us back to the settlement. On our way I inquired of Rochford what could have caused our scout to suppose that a band of Indians was approaching.

“He must have seen my new friend’s followers in the distance,” he answered. “They set out to accompany him, but returned by his directions to a wood a short distance from this. There are a couple of hundred of them, fine-looking fellows, all well-armed, and evidently devoted to him. It proves, I think, his friendly disposition; for, were he ill disposed, they might pounce down on the settlement at any moment, and destroy it before the inhabitants could have time to defend themselves.”

“Then he does not altogether rely on your safe-conduct; for he knows well that should the inhabitants of Roseville attempt to detain him he would quickly be rescued by his followers,” I remarked.

Lejoillie showed his delight at recovering Rochford by giving him a warm embrace; and then turning to the chief, he welcomed him cordially.

I observed that the latter carefully eyed the countenances of our companions, as if wishing to ascertain if any of them knew him, while, at the same time, he kept his rifle in his hand, ready for instant use. When we began our march, he came alongside Rochford, Carlos, and me, in the rear of the party, who now hurried on, eager to get back to their homes.

He addressed himself especially to Carlos, from whom, it appeared to me, he was endeavouring to obtain information which neither Lejoillie nor I was able to give him. It was late in the evening by the time we reached Roseville. The judge, on seeing Rochford, blamed him for having caused us so much anxiety.

“Now we’ve got you, we’ll not let you run away again,” he exclaimed, shaking him by the hand.

Rochford then introduced his Indian companion.

“I have seen many of your people, but I don’t know that I have ever before met you,” observed the judge, eyeing him narrowly.

“I am fonder of the chase than of war or treaty-making with the whites,” answered the Indian. “I have visited you now for the sake of assuring you of the friendly feelings of my people, so that you may rest in quiet without any apprehensions of an attack from us.”

“I said so! I always said that the red men were well disposed!” exclaimed the judge. “I expect Captain Norton back to-morrow, and I should be happy if you could remain, and give him the same assurances that you have given me.”

“I would willingly have an interview with Captain Norton, but my stay here must be short. I will leave you to repeat to him the assurances of our pacific intentions,” answered the Indian.

The judge’s wife and my cousins now made their appearance. The Indian chief appeared to regard them with great admiration. They on their part declared that he was very agreeable and good-looking, and that he behaved like a polished gentleman, conducting himself at table with thorough propriety.

The judge offered him a bed, but he declined, saying that, accustomed as he was to sleeping in the open air, he should prefer to pass the night in the veranda,—where a hammock was accordingly slung for him, so that he might occupy it whenever he felt disposed.

I forgot to say that Rochford, being introduced to my cousins, at once entered into conversation, and appeared to be winning his way into their good graces. He seemed much pleased when Carlos invited him to Castle Kearney.

After the ladies had retired, the gentlemen sat up some time smoking their havannahs, the Indian taking part in the conversation.

At last we all turned in to our respective quarters, the judge having, some time before, set us the example. On looking out of the door of the room I occupied, which opened on to the veranda, I saw the Indian throw himself into the hammock. In another minute he was apparently fast asleep.

On awaking early the next morning, the first sound I heard was the voice of black Rose, little Paul’s nurse, uttering exclamations of surprise. Presently I heard the judge’s voice; and on looking out, I saw them examining, with puzzled looks, the hammock in which the Indian guest had slept. One of the ropes had apparently been cut, and the hammock had come to the ground.

“Can anything have happened to him? Where can he have gone to?” exclaimed our host. “Hunt about, Rose, and see if you can find him anywhere.”

“Me ask Toby,” said Rose; “he up early, perhaps he see him.”

Toby was the black boy of the establishment, and was a great admirer of Rose.

I heard the judge walking about the veranda. I dressed as rapidly as I could, and went out to meet him. He presented, it must be confessed, a somewhat curious figure habited in his morning costume, a coloured dressing-gown, with a red night-cap on his head, and spectacles on his nose, while he looked puzzled and annoyed in the extreme.

“I trust no one has knocked my guest on the head during the night,” he said. “The Indian has gone—vanished—disappeared! I would not have had it happen on any account!”

“Perhaps he has only gone to stretch his legs, and will return for breakfast,” I observed.

While we were talking, Rose and Toby appeared together, and reported that they could nowhere find the Indian. The judge then sent off Toby and two or three other black boys to make inquiries through the village.

In a short time they returned, declaring that no one had seen him, and that if he had gone, he must have taken himself off during the night.

“I fear the worst then,” said our host. “He would not have gone away without at least paying his respects to me. These Indians are as ceremonious as the courtiers of an emperor.”

We were soon joined by the rest of the party in the veranda, and Rochford seemed more astonished than any one on hearing what had happened. He told us that he had thought of offering to accompany the chief back to his home, that he might have an opportunity of seeing Indian customs and manners.

“Any romantic opinions you might have entertained on the subject would quickly have been dispelled,” observed the judge. “I would advise you, my friend, to keep out of their way, and live among civilised people.”

Rochford, who made no answer, probably considered the judge prejudiced against the Redskins.

Our kind host pressed us so warmly to remain another day, that we consented. He promised that he would arrange for our conveyance back by water the following morning, when Lejoillie and Rochford agreed to accompany us.

In the afternoon Captain Norton returned. On hearing of the visit of the chief, whose appearance was described to him, he exclaimed—

“Why, he is no other than Powell, or Oceola, as the Indians call him, their great leader, and the most dangerous person in the country. I believe that no Indian bears a more deadly hatred to the Palefaces, as he calls us, than does that man. Notwithstanding all his promises, I would not trust him. So violent was his behaviour while the other chiefs were making the treaty at Payne’s Landing, that General Thompson caused him to be seized and carried off in irons, though he managed to slip out of them, and to make his escape. He has since sent word that he would agree to the treaty; but those who know him best mistrust him most. What could have induced him to run the risk of coming to this settlement, I cannot say; probably he supposed no one here was acquainted with him, and evidently had some object in view.”

“At all events, he saved my life when his countrymen were threatening to take it,” observed Rochford, stepping forward; “and I am deeply indebted to him.”

“My dear, sir, he may have had an object in saving your life; and knowing you were a British subject, he would not hate you as he does Americans. Am I wrong in supposing that you are an Irishman, though I have not the pleasure of knowing your name?”

“Maulins Rochford,” said my friend, bowing to the captain; “may I ask yours?”

“Roger Norton, of the United States army. I am familiar with your name, having some relatives of the same in the old country. May I ask if you belong to the Rochfords of Killmallan?”

“Mr Rochford of Killmallan is my uncle,” answered Maulins.

“Then we may hail each other as cousins,” said Captain Norton, putting out his hand. “We Americans are always glad to meet with relatives from the other side of the Atlantic. I shall be truly glad if, after you have seen something of the country, you make up your mind to remain with us.”

Rochford, who was warm-hearted in the extreme, cordially shook his cousin’s hand. Of course they each had numerous questions to ask and answer.

The remainder of the day was happily spent, in spite of the judge’s anxiety as to what had become of his Indian guest. Captain Norton, however, assured him that he was confident the chief had gone off of his own accord some time during the night, fearing that it might be discovered who he was, and that he might again be made prisoner.

The young captain would gladly have accompanied us to Castle Kearney, but his duties prevented him from doing so. He undertook, however, to come over in the course of a few days, and to bring our ponies, with a sufficient escort. He expressed himself very glad that we had arranged to return by water.

Our friend Lejoillie had not been idle, but had been constantly employed in searching for objects of natural history, of which he found no lack even in the judge’s garden. He had been watching, with great attention, the nest of a humming-bird, which he had discovered a short distance from the house, and invited me to come and see it. No parents could be more attentive to the wants of their young than were those bright little gems, the smallest of the feathered tribe. They were constantly flying hither and thither, bringing insects too minute even to be seen, which they put into the gaping beaks of their young ones, each scarcely larger than a humble-bee. As we were looking, we saw a spider, one of the largest I had ever seen, crawl up the branch to which the nest was attached. Slowly and cautiously it made its way upward, with the fell intent, I felt sure, of seizing the young birds, and perhaps the parents also, in its embrace.

“Stay,” whispered Lejoillie, holding my arm, “it is a question I have long desired to have settled, whether these spiders really do feed on birds.”

“But there is no doubt about it!” I exclaimed, trembling for the fate of the beautiful little creatures.

“It is not yet an accomplished fact,” answered Lejoillie; “the creature may have some other object in view. Overcome your humanity this once for the sake of science;” and he held me back.

On crawled the horrid monster. The hen-bird sat on the nest with open beak, while the cock fluttered with wings expanded just above the creature’s claws, endeavouring to attract its attention, or to seize one of the claws in its beak, which at times I thought its parental feelings would induce it to do. All its efforts were in vain. The monster, knowing its power, crawled on, and putting in its claws, seized one of the young birds, which in an instant it applied to its mouth.

I could bear it no longer. “You are satisfied of the fact,” I cried; and rushing forward with a stick, I struck the hideous creature to the ground.

“Not that it kills the older birds as well as the young,” said Lejoillie, somewhat vexed at my proceeding.

“It would have done so, depend upon it. Pray enter the fact in your note-book.”

He did so, fully satisfied, I believe, and really not sorry that I had saved the humming-birds, or, as he called them, the “fly-birds,” from destruction.

The next morning a large boat, having a gay-coloured awning, with six rowers, provided by the judge, was in readiness to carry us up the river. Captain Norton escorted the ladies on board. It took us very much less time to proceed by water, even though the current was against us, than to have come by land.

We found my uncle greatly recovered. He expressed his pleasure at seeing our friends Rochford and Lejoillie, and begged that they would remain at Castle Kearney as long as they felt disposed to honour him with their society. They expressed their admiration of the house and everything about it, including my fair cousins, who certainly did their best to entertain them.

In consequence of the rumours which had reached my uncle regarding the threatened hostility of the Indians, he would not allow us to engage in any shooting excursions. We contrived, however, to amuse ourselves by making occasional trips in a boat up the river, when Lejoillie succeeded in obtaining a number of specimens of birds.

In a few days Captain Norton arrived with the ponies, and set my uncle’s mind at rest by reporting that the Indians had retired westward, and that it was supposed they would before long finally take their departure, according to the treaty they had entered into, and cross the Mississippi. As soon as Carlos heard this, he proposed that we should set off on a shooting expedition.

Lejoillie at once agreed, hoping thus to find opportunities of adding to his specimens of natural history; but Rochford showed no desire to accompany us. It was very evident that he preferred the society of the ladies, and especially of my cousin Juanita, to whom it appeared to me, he was paying devoted attention. Whether or not the elders of the family observed this I could not make out. The girls were also both so lively and animated, that it was difficult to be certain that my young cousin had discovered our guest’s feelings towards her, or, at all events, that she returned them. Her manner was in no way altered; she treated him, as she did Lejoillie and Captain Norton, in a frank and easy manner.

Carlos showed some annoyance when Rochford made excuses for not going with us.

“We are not a large party, and we fully relied on having your company,” said my cousin. “You came out here to see the country, and you will know nothing about it if you stop in the house and only take a short ride occasionally with the girls or paddle them about on the river. You can return with us, and stop here afterwards as long as you like.”

Still Rochford would not promise to go.

Captain Norton also excused himself. He had, he said, traversed the country and camped out often enough in the course of duty. He was not particularly fond of sport; at all events, it would not recompense him for the life he should have to lead. He could spend but a few days at Castle Kearney, and must then return to Saint Augustine, where his regiment was quartered. At this I was not surprised, though I liked him so much that I should have been glad of his society. He, however, I suspected, was paying attention to Rita, and, as far as I was able to judge, was making progress in her good graces. My uncle and aunt were, of course, grateful to him for having preserved her from the puma; and though he claimed no merit for the service he had rendered, it was very natural that it should be in his favour.

We had all gone out in the evening to enjoy the cool air in the orangery, in which were seats on raised terraces, where views could be obtained up and down the river. I had separated from the rest of the party, when, after wandering about by myself for a short time, I passed one of the bowers I have mentioned. On looking in I saw Juanita and Rochford. I overheard my cousin say, in answer to something her companion had said—

“It is impossible—I cannot quit my home; and I tell you frankly that you have not won my heart.”

As my cousin did not call, though I was sure she must have seen me, I felt that it would not be right to interfere, and therefore hurried on until I was out of sight.

Some time afterwards, when the ladies had returned to the house, Rochford came up to me.

“Maurice, I have made up my mind to accompany you on your expedition,” he said. “I shall be obliged if you will let Carlos know. I see that I cannot with propriety stay here any longer.”

He did not tell me, but of course I guessed, the cause of his sudden change of plan. I could not help thinking Juanita had done right, for he was in reality a comparative stranger; and except that he was a warm-hearted, impulsive young man, we knew little of his principles or character. Carlos, on hearing of his intention to go with us, exclaimed, “I am very glad of it; he’ll make a capital companion: he sings a good song, and I dare say will prove a good shot.”

At daybreak on the following morning we started, our party consisting of Lejoillie, Rochford, Carlos, Tim, and myself, with two ponies for carrying game, and four blacks to beat the bushes and make themselves generally useful. We had six dogs, well-trained animals, two being retrievers, the others, powerful brutes, taught to rush into thickets and turn out the game, or to pull down the larger animals. The blacks carried guns, axes, and machetes; while we had our rifles, a brace of pistols, and a long knife a-piece.

We at once struck away to the south-west, in the direction in which Carlos considered we were most likely to find sport. Rochford was unusually silent; a change had evidently come over him, and he seemed almost morose and sullen. When Carlos bantered him with not being as merry as usual, he turned away, and soon afterwards dropped behind the rest of the party. Lejoillie was too much occupied in observing the various birds and animals to remark our friend’s behaviour.

I should have said that one of the dogs was a large handsome spaniel—“Caesar”—of which my uncle had kindly made me a present some days before. The animal seemed to understand the change of masters, and having taken a great fancy to me, obeyed my orders as readily as if I had trained him from his puppyhood. Three other animals, if not perfectly well-bred, were closely allied to the Cuban blood-hound, too frequently employed in hunting runaway slaves, although equally useful for driving game out of thick coverts or protecting the camp when committed to their charge. They were possessed of great keenness of scent, were fierce, courageous, and very powerful animals, and could endure the intense heat of a tropical sun. They could follow the wily ocelot, making their way noiselessly through the dense palmetto-scrub, and could fearlessly tackle panthers or bears.

We passed, on our course, alternate narrow strips of grass and jungle, with cabbage-palms and numerous live-oaks scattered about in picturesque groups. Sometimes we came to ponds fringed with saw-grass eight or ten feet in height, from amid which rose large flocks of the beautiful roseate spoonbill ibis, while the white ibis and ducks of varied colours stalked and swam around the edges, and snipes rose frequently almost from under our feet. From among a flock of turkeys, which flew up from a thick palmetto jungle, we knocked over four fat gobblers, sufficient for two substantial meals to our whole party.

I must not stop to describe the adventures of each day. For the first three or four, we met with less large game than we had expected, Carlos always telling us that farther south we should find much more.

We were not altogether unmindful of the reported bad temper of the Indians, and had we not taken precautions against surprise, we might possibly have been attacked; but at night two of the party were always on watch, accompanied by a blood-hound, to give notice of the approach of a foe. We put up rough tents, which afforded us sufficient protection against the weather, though not against the mosquitoes, which frequently troubled us severely. It was only towards morning that we felt any sensation of cold. We were then glad to draw our blankets tightly around us, though a small amount of exercise soon warmed our blood. Our plan was to breakfast before daylight, so as to get some of the cool hours of the morning for hunting.

We had not been long on foot—the fourth day after leaving Castle Kearney—when we saw the hounds running backwards and forwards from one large clump of scrub-palmetto to another.

“They are after a cat,” exclaimed Carlos; “but it will be some time before they catch it.”

“A cat?” I asked.

“We call it ‘cat’ for shortness’ sake. Its common name is a ‘catamount,’ or, more properly, an ‘ocelot.’”

The hounds, who well knew where the ocelot had gone to, were chasing it from tree to tree; but still it continued to elude them. All we could do was to stand by with our rifles ready to shoot the creature, should it burst forth into the open. Nearly two hours must have passed since the dogs first got scent of it, and yet the animal managed to evade them. I was standing in a palmetto-scrub almost up to my shoulders, when about a dozen paces off I saw a movement among the leaves, which I suspected was caused by a wild beast of some sort. I stood ready to receive it. In a few seconds, catching a glimpse of a yellow skin, I fired, but my bullet failed to take effect; and the next instant an animal, with glaring eyes and outstretched claws, sprang towards me, as if about to fly at my throat. I was endeavouring to reload, when I heard a shot, and the creature fell dead almost at my feet. Turning round, I saw that it was Rochford who had fired.

“Thank you,” I said, as he came forward to examine the animal.

It was, as had been supposed, an ocelot, the most beautiful creature of that region. It measured about three feet in length from the nose to the root of the tail. It had a reddish fur, marked with black spots, oblong on the back, and round or streaked on the under part and paws. The strongly-formed shoulder showed the power which it could exert when seizing its prey. Its handsome fur was soon taken off, and placed on the back of one of the ponies.

The dogs in a short time hunted out two other ocelots, which were speedily shot; and we killed also several racoons, polecats, opossums, two deer, besides turkeys, ducks, snipes, and quails,—which I mention to show the abundance of game to be found in that part of the country.

We encountered several rattlesnakes; but as they gave us notice of their whereabouts, we easily despatched them, and carried off their rattles as trophies. The one I killed, by blowing off its head, was upwards of seven feet in length, and would have proved a disagreeable customer to meet with in a narrow pathway. We fell in also with several herds of wild hogs; but as we had brought no salt for pickling them, we shot only one each day, that we might have fresh pork for dinner, for in that climate meat becomes unfit to eat in the course of a very few hours. As may be supposed, we lived very well, as far as meat was concerned; and we also occasionally added a cabbage-palm, and some wild roots and fruits, to our bill of fare.

At length Carlos and I agreed that we ought to turn our faces homewards, as we had almost come to an end of our ammunition, as well as of our flour and other stores. On our return journey we shot merely what we required for food.

On the evening of the first day, when we were on our homeward march, Rochford did not make his appearance in camp. “He’ll soon be up to us,” observed Carlos in an unconcerned tone; “though it may be as well to fire a shot or two to show him where we are encamped, should he fail to catch sight of our fire.”

We soon had two fires blazing up, round which we gathered to cook our provisions, and to shield ourselves from the attacks of mosquitoes, which were kept at a distance by the smoke. Supper was over, and we were preparing to lie down. Still Rochford did not appear. I began to grow anxious about him. As it was not likely that he would be discovered should we set off to search for him in the dark, we settled to wait till the following morning, hoping that in the meantime he might come into camp.

The night passed away, and he did not appear. At daybreak, leaving two of the blacks to look after the animals, we divided into three parties: Tim going with me; and Lejoillie and Carlos, each having a black with him. We traversed the country in the direction from which we had come, but no trace could we discover of our missing friend. I wished that we had had Indians with us, or more experienced woodmen, who might have perceived traces which we failed to observe.

Tim and I returned late in the evening to the camp, where Lejoillie and Carlos had shortly before arrived, as unsuccessful as we had been. If Rochford had met with any accident, we should, we thought, have discovered some traces of him. On inquiring, however, of the blacks what had happened at the camp during our absence, one of them presented me with a small piece of paper, saying that an Indian had left it to be delivered to the young white stranger. I eagerly held it to the light of the fire, and I read the words:—

“Farewell! I have too long neglected my duty. I must endeavour to carry out the object for which I came to this country. I trust that justice will be done to the children of the soil, and peace be maintained. Hoping to meet you again,—yours sincerely—

“M.R.”

Though this paper showed that our friend had not met with any accident, I regretted that he had not returned, as I feared that he contemplated engaging in some hopeless enterprise, which could not benefit the Indians, while he himself would be exposed to considerable danger.

Carlos was very indignant at the way he had left us. “Why couldn’t he have told us where he was going?” he exclaimed. “If he puts the Indians up to mischief with any of his wild notions, he will be hunted down, and to a certainty will get hung on the nearest tree.”

The appearance of the Indian showed that some of his people were in the neighbourhood, and Carlos thought it prudent to keep a strict watch during the night. Not waiting for daybreak, as the country before us was tolerably level, we struck camp and pushed homewards. Although we occasionally saw Indians in the distance, none came near us. It was, however, pretty evident that our movements were closely watched, but for what object we could not surmise, as we were allowed to proceed without being molested.

I missed Rochford greatly; and though I was interested by Lejoillie’s remarks on the natural history of the country, I was very glad when we at length reached Castle Kearney.

I watched my cousin Juanita when Carlos was giving her an account of Rochford’s disappearance, “I am very sorry,” she answered in quite an indifferent tone. “I thought he would have come back again; but as he has chosen to go away, I only hope that the Indians will treat him well. Perhaps he’ll return with a red squaw, as a proof of his affection for the Indian race.” She laughed, but perhaps not quite so heartily as she tried to do.

Chapter Five.

A cruise on board the Great Alexander—Oyster-beds—A curious sight—Pelicans fishing—Specimens for the naturalist—A storm—Martyr to science—Tim finds oyster-trees—The racoon—A fishing-party—Florida wreckers—On the Everglades—Look out for snakes—Indians—Retreat through the forest—The old lighthouse—A siege—Killing for killing’s sake—Attempt to burn us out—The Redskins defeated—The turn of the tide—Safe on board.

We had returned but a few days, and Lejoillie had scarcely had time to arrange the collections he had made daring our late trip, when the Great Alexander anchored off the island, and Captain Crump came on shore to deliver some goods he had brought for my uncle. He was going afterwards down the east coast to the Florida Keys, as those coral reefs and islands which fringe the southern end of the peninsula are called. He intended to touch at several places on his way, and perhaps afterwards run up the west coast as far as Cedar Keys.

Lejoillie at once inquired whether he would convey passengers; and on receiving a reply in the affirmative, he invited Carlos and me to accompany him, and Tim if he wished to go.

My father and uncle willingly gave us leave, and we lost no time in making preparations for the voyage. This was soon done, and that very evening we went on board. Captain Crump had brought a fresh supply of ammunition; and as we had plenty of provisions, we were in want of nothing.

I took Caesar, and Carlos had two other dogs. I have already described the schooner, as well as that portion of the Saint John River which we now sailed over. Rounding the Hazard Lighthouse, we steered for Saint Augustine, not only the oldest city in Florida, but the most ancient built by Europeans in the whole continent of North America. It stands on a narrow peninsula formed by the Sebastian and Matanzas rivers.

Carlos had often been there before, as it is only a few miles across from the Saint John River, and he had friends and relatives of his mother residing there. It still contains many old Spanish buildings, which give it a very picturesque appearance. The streets are, however, somewhat narrow and paved with stone, or rather with a conglomerate of shells. As we remained there but a few hours, I can say little more about it.

From Saint Augustine, for three hundred miles southward, there extends a succession of long narrow banks, which form the outside of a series of lagoons, so shallow that only vessels drawing a very few feet of water can navigate them. We kept out to sea for about a hundred miles, when, passing through the Mosquito Inlet, we entered the Mosquito Lagoon. Outside, we had been tumbling about in the rolling Atlantic. We were now in perfectly smooth water; but our skipper and his mate had to keep a sharp look-out, to avoid running on the numerous shoals which lay in our course. The narrow strip of land outside was only a few feet in height, covered with pines, oaks, and palmettos. As it was impossible to navigate the lagoon at night, we came to anchor. The next morning we continued our voyage. Looking over the side, we could see the fish swimming about in vast numbers. Frequently we found ourselves scraping along over oyster-beds, which in some places rose to within a couple of feet of the surface. As we got farther to the south, the banks were fringed with mangroves, and the cabbage-palm and palmetto made their appearance. On some of these oyster-reefs the mangrove trees had struck root—thus forming islands, which are constantly increasing, and still further narrowing the channel.

Leaving the Mosquito Inlet, we entered another lagoon, known as Indian River, upwards of a hundred miles in length, and in some places only sixty or seventy yards across, though in others three miles in width. The most interesting objects on shore were the orange-groves, for which the banks of the Indian River are celebrated. Some of the plantations are of large size; and our skipper told us that one we were then passing produced in good years a crop of more than a quarter of a million of oranges.

One afternoon, the wind having dropped completely, we came to anchor off a sandy point which afforded an easy landing-place. Our skipper having lent us his boat, advised us to go on shore, and to make our way towards the south, when, as he said, “we should see what we should see;” adding, “Don’t let your dogs get ahead of you, friends, or they will spoil your sport.”

Making our way in the direction pointed out, we saw before us a creek falling into the lagoon. Extending some distance from it was a forest of dead trees, the stems and branches bare and gaunt, crusted with white, and supporting on their highest branches the roughly-constructed nests of a vast colony of pelicans, the most curious-looking birds of the feathered tribe.

As we approached the spot, our ears were assailed by a chorus of discordant sounds, proceeding not only from pelicans, but from numerous other aquatic birds collected on the shores of the creek. Holding back our dogs, we made our way through a tangled wood, concealing ourselves as much as possible, until we got within a short distance of the creek, where we lay hid behind some bushes, whence, on looking through the branches, we were rewarded with a most curious sight. An army of white pelicans was drawn up in a row across the middle of the creek, the water reaching half-way up their bodies, while they stood upright with their necks raised in the air, evidently engaged in some important occupation, in which they were so absorbed that they did not observe our approach. They were apparently waiting in the attitude of attention for a signal from a large, grave-looking old pelican, the chief of their band, who stood on the shore ready to issue his orders. Presently we heard him utter two loud cries in a hollow tone, which sounded like “Heou-korr, heou-korr!” The instant the signal was given the troop started forward, beating the water with their outstretched wings, and holding their necks far forward; their object being, as we soon afterwards discovered, to drive before them into shallow water the fish swimming in the stream.

The two ends of the line advanced faster than the centre, so that in a short time the birds formed a vast crescent, which stretched across a good-sized bay; and as the distance from one bird to another was measured exactly by the span of their wings, not a single fish could break through the circle of menacing beaks. Indeed, the pelicans enclosed the fish with their united wings in a regular line as close and compact as a trawl or drag-net. As the circle gradually contracted, the fish began to jump into the air, and to dart about in all directions, leaving many a muddy streak to mark their course.

Besides the old “fugleman”, there were several other patriarchs, who now advanced into the water to perform the office of fishermen. Standing perfectly motionless, they seized the fish as they passed, and stowed them away methodically in their enormous pouches under their beaks. The whole of this time the rest of the troop continued to beat the water with their wings, and appeared to be fully occupied in preventing their prey from escaping, without attempting to catch any in their own beaks.

This curious fishing appeared to have excited immense interest among the feathered tribes of the neighbourhood. Birds of every description were collected on the surrounding trees, filling the air with their discordant cries, apparently jealous of the pelicans, and eager to take a part in the feast which they were engaged in providing.

Clouds of gulls and sea-mews fluttered over the surface of the water, seizing any small fry they could reach, while robber crows quarrelled over scraps of stolen fish; and three or four bold grebes succeeded in getting into the circle, where they floated and dived at leisure, successfully avoiding the numerous thrusts aimed at them by the formidable beaks of the pelicans.

Several cormorants, perched on the trunks of submerged trees, now and then darted down like arrows on some big fish which their keen eyes had espied, and as they rose, tossing them up in the air with their tails, they never failed to catch them again by the head, and swallow them at a mouthful. The pelicans did not venture to interfere with these rovers of the deep, being probably well acquainted with the strength of their powerful beaks. Lastly, came a mob of egrets, crab-eaters, and little herons, which perched on the surrounding trees, stretched out their necks, rolled their wild eyes, and danced about on the dead branches, uttering their jealous cries, but not daring to interfere with the industrious pelicans.

The fishing over, the pelicans arranged themselves in a circle on the sand, when those who had been engaged in fishing proceeded to empty deliberately their pouches, spreading the contents before their grave old chief, each taking care to knock on the head any fish which was still living. Then, at a signal from the chief, a bird advanced, and taking a fish swallowed it; then came another croak, and another pelican walked forward and took his share, and so on until every bird had been fed.

The feast over, they began carefully to prune their damp plumage, turning their necks over their backs in a way of which I should not have supposed them capable. Having arranged their plumage, they moved off towards their roosting-places, and the rest of the birds which had been watching their departure darted down, hoping to pick up some of the fish they might have left.

Lejoillie all the time, though scarcely able to contain himself for laughter, was holding his gun, ready to obtain specimens for his collection.

At length, fixing his eye on a blue crab-eater, he fired, and the bird fell to the ground. At the sound of the shot the pelicans took to flight in good order, followed by the cormorants and crows; the gulls and terns flew off up the creek; but the herons, more courageous or more stupid, remained perched on the higher branches of the neighbouring trees.

Not to let them all escape, I aimed at a beautiful egret with white plumage, and to my great delight down it fell. It was nearly three feet in height, with a long tuft of silken and silvery feathers down the back of its neck. Carlos knocked over a beautiful little bird with a chestnut-coloured head, a perfect heron in miniature, but only the size of a thrush. Lejoillie was delighted, and would have hugged us both as we brought him the specimens.

As there was no chance of a breeze, we agreed to spend the night on shore, where we could stretch our legs and enjoy a cooler air than we could find in our close little cabin. We accordingly sent for a sail, rigged a tent, lighted a fire, and did our best to make ourselves at home, while Lejoillie skinned his birds and “potted” his insects, as Carlos used to call the operation.

“I wish he’d pot these mesquitoes,” exclaimed my cousin, as clouds of what he called “blind mesquitoes” came round us, dropping into the pot in which our coffee was boiling, and covering all our food. As, however, they did not bite like the “galley nippers” of other parts, we soon got accustomed to them, and if they added to the strength of our coffee we did not mind. We were not, however, allowed to finish our night’s rest. A breeze unexpectedly getting up, the skipper called us on board, and we continued our course down the lagoon. I never remember seeing the water so phosphorescent in any other part of the world. We could distinguish the jew-fish, the saw-fish, and many other denizens of those Southern waters, which, disturbed by the schooner’s keel, darted away in all directions in a blaze of light, every scale on their bodies being clearly defined. Indeed, they looked like meteors, their rapid course marked by trails of light. The next day the wind was so light that we made but slow progress. The appearance of the shore on either hand was monotonous in the extreme. At length, passing the settlement of Saint Lucie, the most southern in Florida, we might have got out to the ocean through the Indian River Inlet, but the sea was breaking heavily on the bar; and as the weather looked threatening, we continued our course down the lagoon, steering for an opening called Jupiter Inlet. At night we lay-to among a number of mangrove islets, on the east bank of the sound, being just able to see our way until we dropped anchor.

Scarcely were the sails furled than the storm which had been brewing burst above our heads. The thunder roared, lightning flashed, and down came the rain in torrents, flooding our decks. We had to take refuge in the cabin, which we shared with the troops of cockroaches, centipedes, and numberless other creeping things. At length the rain ceased, and the thunder rolled away, and we were expecting to enjoy some sleep, when clouds of mosquitoes and sand-flies came off, literally filling the air, and, finding their way into the cabin, made a fearful onslaught on our bodies. In vain we endeavoured to shield ourselves from their sharp stings. They defied the clouds of tobacco smoke we puffed at them. We had no sulphur, or we would have submitted to inhale its noxious fumes in preference to being bitten by these abominable creatures.

“Have patience, my friends!” cried Lejoillie, when he heard Carlos, Tim, and me crying out as we slapped our hands and faces, and tried to drive off our assailants; “recollect we are suffering in the cause of science.”

“All very well for you who get the honour and glory, but, for my part, I hope never to endure such another night of misery again,” cried Carlos.

Daylight came at last, when, going upon deck, we found ourselves in the midst of a forest of mangroves, rising some forty or fifty feet above the water, the lower branches, stems, and spider-like limbs, within reach of high-tide, being completely covered with thick clusters of oysters.

“Sure, do them shell-fish grow on the trees?” exclaimed Tim. “Though I’ve been the world round, never did I see such curious fruit.”

Captain Crump explained that the young oysters seize on every hard object on which to fix themselves; and he pointed out the mud-banks, where they lay three or four feet in depth Tim, jumping into the boat, rowed off, and soon brought back several branches of oysters, which he thought would serve us for breakfast. We found them, however, very bitter to our taste.

The skipper told us they were called ’coon oysters, as the racoons are very fond of them, or perhaps can get at them with greater ease than they can obtain the common oyster. While we were watching the shore, sure enough a racoon came down, and seizing several oysters which hung just below the surface, picked them off the branch, and shaking them violently backwards and forwards, ran back with his prize to a convenient spot on the beach, where, with his teeth and claws, he opened the shells, and speedily devoured the contents. Presently we saw him dart into the water, and return with a handful of shrimps, which his keen eyes had perceived; and he again immediately sat himself down to devour them, giving each of them a pinch as he placed them by his side. He appeared perfectly fearless of the neighbourhood of the vessel, though, no doubt, had we been on shore with our dogs and guns, he would quickly have concealed himself.

Lejoillie remained in the bows of the vessel watching its movements with his gun ready. As soon as the poor ’coon had finished its meal, destined to be its last, he fired, and over it fell, though still struggling violently. Tim and another man immediately jumped into the boat, and pulling to the shore, quickly put it out of pain, and brought it on board. It was about the size of a fox, being somewhat larger than the common racoon. Lejoillie called it the agouara, and our skipper said it was the crab-eater. The fur was of a blackish-grey, with a tinge of yellow. The tail was somewhat short and marked, with six black rings on a greyish ground.

As there was but little chance of our making progress for some hours to come, after breakfast we pulled off in the boat to secure some fish for dinner. Our skipper possessed a species of harpoon called grains, which consists of a two-pronged iron-headed barb, about ten inches in length. The head is loosely slipped into a socket at the end of a staff about twelve feet long, and the two are connected by a rope. A double prong is used for catching fish, but for killing turtle a single-pronged barbed head is employed, as it pierces the shell more easily. We had not gone far when Captain Crump, standing up in the bows like an old Triton, lowered his weapon close to the water; it flew from his hand, and immediately afterwards he drew up a red-fish of about twelve pounds weight, and threw it into the bottom of the boat. He then stood ready for another stroke. Again he darted down the deadly weapon. The head, which had a long line attached to it, by slipping off at once from the staff, remained sticking in the fish, which, after being allowed to struggle so as to exhaust its strength, was hauled on board. Three or four other fish having been caught in the same way, we had an ample supply for ourselves and dogs. We pulled back to the schooner, on our way collecting, off a bank, a number of fine oysters, very superior to those which the ’coons are addicted to eating.

At length a light breeze sprang up, sufficient to carry us at a slow rate down the sound. We passed vast numbers of the Florida cormorants—a small species, which breeds in the mangrove islets. They were feeding on shoals of mullet, which rushed along the surface of the water, endeavouring to escape the attacks of sharks, porpoises, and other cruel foes beneath the surface. The cormorants, however, did not have it all their own way; for, watching their opportunity, numbers of ospreys and pelicans incessantly splashed down among them to rob them of their prey. Whenever we brought up, we pulled off in the boat to supply ourselves with fish, which we seldom failed to take with hook and line, even when the skipper was unsuccessful with his grains. We baited with land-crabs, which abound in the mangrove swamps. Frequently within a quarter of an hour we caught red-fish, dark-fleshed jack, and black and white banded sheep’s-heads, in numbers sufficient to feed all on board. Indeed, we agreed that no one need starve in Florida, if only provided with guns and ammunition, hooks, lines, and harpoons.

At length Jupiter Inlet was reached. It is narrow, and very shallow, and is occasionally closed by a strong easterly gale. We were now once more in the open sea, steering southward for Key Biscayne, at the north end of a line of keys or islets which sweep round the whole southern coast of Florida. Our skipper kept a sharp look-out for wrecks, numbers of which occur on this dangerous coast. His object was, he said, to assist the crews, and to take possession of the cargoes. There were, he told us, a number of vessels so employed—cutters and schooners constantly cruising about in search of wrecks. Their skippers were honest men; but there were others—“beach-combers,” he called them—who not only plundered shipwrecked crews, but endeavoured to allure to their destruction, by means of false lights, any vessels approaching the coast. Many a stout ship has thus been lost, their crews miserably perishing.

Although our skipper spoke with just indignation of such a mode of proceeding, he had no objection whatever, when a ship was on shore, to get out of her all the booty he could obtain. We passed the skeletons of several wrecks; but they had long before been visited by the ever-vigilant wreckers, and everything of value on board carried away.

Lejoillie had a great desire to visit the Everglades—a large tract extending over the greater part of the southern end of Florida. It consists of a vast plain of coarse saw-grass; above which, here and there, rise well-wooded and fertile islands, composed of coral rock of a crescent form, which they assumed when first forced up, by some convulsion of nature, above the surface of the ocean. The plain is swampy; and down it narrow channels exist, which drain the water in a great measure towards the west.

As our skipper wished to obtain some cocoa-nuts which grew abundantly on the shore, and proposed to employ the time of our absence in catching turtle, he consented to bring up for a few hours; advising us to keep a sharp look-out for Indians, and to avoid them, as they would certainly rob us, and perhaps take our lives, should they find us off our guard. He offered to allow one of his crew to accompany us, who, being well acquainted with the country, and a good sportsman—as most wreckers are—would act as our guide.

Standing into a small bay, lined on either side with mangroves and cabbage-palms, having at the farther end a grove of cocoa-nut trees, we came to anchor. At the outer point was a deserted lighthouse, which we agreed would serve as a guide to us should we have any difficulty in finding our way back. We lost no time in going on shore, accompanied by Tim and Bill Dixie, boatswain of the Great Alexander, and forthwith made our way west towards the nearest point on the Everglades. We had not gone far before we fell in with a deer, which I shot. Knowing how welcome it would be on board, and hoping the schooner had not sailed, we despatched Bill to request the captain to send for it. In the meantime, leaving Tim to guard the game, we went forward, and were fortunate enough to shoot a couple of parrots, which were sent on board with the men who shortly afterwards made their appearance.

Having as much game as we required, Lejoillie begged that we would at once push forward, as our object was to visit the Everglades, which we had not hitherto reached.

The Everglades answered the description I had heard of them. Carlos and I agreed that there was so little attractive in the region, that except for the sake of saying we had been there, we would rather have remained on board and amused ourselves by fishing or spearing turtle with the skipper. However, as we had come, and our friend wished to proceed, we went on with him. Though we had shot several birds, Lejoillie wanted to reach one of the woody islands I have described, which appeared some way ahead; so on we went.

“Keep a look-out for snakes,” said Carlos, “or we may very likely step on one before we see it.”

“It will not be very easy to avoid the creatures in this high grass,” I observed. “Don’t you think we had better turn back?”

“Not until we have attained the object of our visit to this region, my friends,” answered the naturalist. “The love of science should make us despise all dangers and difficulties.”

The next instant Carlos fired. Running forward, we found that he had blown off the head of a huge rattlesnake which his keen eye had detected in the grass, though the rest of us had failed to see it. It proved that his warning was not unnecessary. The creature was over seven feet long, and a bite from its fangs would quickly have proved fatal.

Still, Lejoillie insisted on going forward, and we were ashamed of deserting him. At length the island for which we were aiming was reached. It extended for several miles, in a crescent form, from north to south-west, rising abruptly eight or ten feet above the plain. It was composed entirely of coral, though covered over thickly with creepers of various sorts. On the summit grew enormous trees mostly of the palm species, such as I have before described.

We halted on the top to refresh ourselves with the provender we had brought. Not until then did we discover how large a portion of the day had gone by. We lighted a fire to boil our kettle, and were seated round it, the smoke partially keeping at bay the mosquitoes and other stinging creatures, when Tim, who had gone a short distance from the camp, came running back.

“We had better be afther puttin’ our best foot foremost, gentlemen!” he exclaimed. “As I was lookin’ away to the westward, my eye fell on a number of creatures moving among the grass. I stopped until they came to an open space; then I saw that they were Redskins, with feathers on their heads and firelocks in their hands. I counted twenty of them, at least; and there were more behind. Maybe they have seen the smoke of our fire, and are coming to see who we are and what we are about. They may be friendly; but I’m afther thinkin’ that if they find they outnumber us, they’ll be for taking our scalps, if they can get them. I’m an old soldier, and I wouldn’t be afther sayin’ ‘run’ from an enemy if there was a chance of driving him back; but still the best thing we can do is to beat a retreat in time.”

“I believe that Tim’s advice is good,” observed Carlos.

“I am sure it is,” I added. “If we were to stop here and try to defend ourselves, the Indians would starve us out, at all events. What do you say, Lejoillie?”

“Ma foi! that we had better retreat,” exclaimed the naturalist.

“Well, then, gentlemen, we will throw a few more sticks on the fire, to cause plenty of smoke; and that’ll make the Redskins fancy that we have a large party encamped, so that they will approach more cautiously, and we shall have time to get well ahead,” said Tim.

The old soldier’s advice was therefore acted upon. We gathered up our rifles and the various articles which lay on the grass, and began to retreat, as far as I could judge, by the way we had come. The sky, however, which had hitherto been clear, had, unfortunately for us, become obscured, and it was difficult to decide which was the right direction. We pushed forward as fast as we could; but the old wrecker, our guide, seemed, as we thought, somewhat uncertain of the path we ought to take. We frequently looked back, and, as long as we could see the island, it assisted to guide us. Nothing of the Indians could be discovered; but that was no proof that they were not near, as they would keep concealed in the tall grass, and wait until they had a favourable opportunity of pouncing suddenly upon us. I must say that we felt rather ashamed of ourselves for running away from what, after all, might prove an imaginary danger. Still, it was better to run than to be overpowered and scalped,—our probable fate should the Indians prove to be hostile; and, from Tim’s account, they were certainly on the war-path. The sun had sunk beyond the vast plain of grass stretched out behind us, when we emerged from the Everglades, and found ourselves in the forest-belt which separates that region from the sea. We now called a halt, to consider what course to pursue. It was evident that we had not returned by the same way we had come, for we could discover no signs of having been on the spot before.

“We cannot be more than a couple of miles from the shore, and when we reach it, we shall know which direction to take,” said our guide. “We may still, if we push on, keep ahead of the Redskins.”

Though tired and hungry, we agreed that it would be more prudent to push on than to halt longer. Scarcely, however, had we got among the palmetto-scrub, than looking back, to ascertain if we were followed, I caught sight, amid the thickening gloom, of a number of dark figures following up our trail. I pointed them out to Tim.

“Do you advise that we should halt and face them, or continue our course?” I asked.

“No use halting unless we are prepared to fight it out to the last,” he answered; “better to keep moving on, while we can see our way. And maybe they don’t intend to attack us at all until we have encamped, in the hope to find most of us asleep.”

Lejoillie and Carlos agreed with Tim. We spoke in undertones, so that our voices might not reach our pursuers. They, probably, were well aware that there were only five of us; but they knew that five rifles might bring down as many of their number before they had killed us, and this made them afraid of approaching too near until they could find us, as they hoped, off our guard. It was not a pleasant feeling to know that a party of savages was close upon our heels, and yet not to be able even to get a sight of them; for after the momentary glance Tim and I had obtained of our pursuers, they did not again show themselves, though we felt sure that they were skulking along under cover of the trees and bushes.

The old wrecker kept us at a good pace, scrambling and leaping over fallen trunks, until we saw the top of the old lighthouse, for which we had been looking, rising above the palmetto-scrub. The dense foliage had hitherto concealed it, though it was not more than a hundred yards off. We hurried on. Its massive walls would, at all events, afford us a place of safety until daylight. At that instant our ears were assailed by a fearful war-whoop, and a shower of bullets and arrows whistled about our heads; but, happily, not one of us was hit.

“Keep together, gentlemen,” cried Tim; “and don’t fire until we can see our enemies. If we do, they’ll take the opportunity of springing upon us before we have time to reload, and we shall be done for.”

Happily the ground between us and the lighthouse was pretty open. As we made our way over it, lighted by the moon, which had just risen, I could see our schooner in the distance, standing in for the bay, and another vessel farther off.

We dashed across the open as fast as our legs could carry us, expecting every moment to have another shower of missiles sent rattling after us; but the Indians were either stopping to reload, or were so much astonished at seeing us unhurt that they thought it useless to fire again. At all events, we gained the lighthouse in safety. There was a strong door at the base, which, happily, had been left unbarred. We dashed in and secured it, while we made our way up the winding steps to the first landing-place, whence two narrow windows commanded the ground below on either side. Scarcely had we reached it than we saw the Indians bursting out from among the trees, not aware, apparently, that we had already gained a place of safety. As we had not fired, they might possibly have supposed that we were unarmed; for they advanced fearlessly, shouting and shrieking, close up to the walls of the tower.

“Let them shout on,” said Lejoillie, “their shrieks cannot hurt us; and, unless they attempt to break in, it would be useless to shoot the poor wretches.”

The enraged cries of the Indians increased when they found that the door was closed. They attacked it with their tomahawks; but their weapons were blunted against the hard oak, clamped with iron as it was. By Tim’s advice we still reserved our fire, as our stock of ammunition was small, and we might require it for an emergency.

The closed door must have showed the Indians that we were within, though, as we took care to conceal ourselves, they might not otherwise have known it.

The door was, fortunately, fitted into the wall of the building, and was so strongly and tightly closed as to prevent the entrance of water, which we saw, from the marks on the walls, must occasionally rise some feet in depth round it. As we did not venture to look out of the window, we could only judge, by the sounds which reached us, what the Indians were about. There was not much to fear from the blows of their tomahawks, though in time they might have contrived to cut a small hole through the door. We could, however, hear the sound of chopping again and again repeated, while the shouts and shrieks of the savages, as they ran round the building looking out for an opening, became more and more vehement. At last they were silent. Wishing to ascertain what they were about, I crept up to the window, and put out my head far enough to take a glance round one side of the tower and over the ground below me for some distance. I saw that a party of Indians were engaged in bringing up a long log of wood, which they evidently intended to use as a battering-ram. I must have been seen, for, although I withdrew my head as rapidly as I could, the next instant a couple of arrows entered the window, and several others struck the wall outside. Had I remained a moment longer, I should probably have been killed or wounded.

“We must prevent them battering in the door,” I exclaimed, after telling my companions what I had seen. “We must show the fellows that we have got fire-arms, and know how to use them.”

The difficulty, however, was to reach our assailants without exposing ourselves. One window only commanded the approach to the door. Here Tim offered to station himself, and begged us to hand the rifles up to him as fast as we could load them.

“I’ll teach the spalpeens a lesson they’ll not forget,” he said, as he took aim with his rifle. He fired, but with what result we could not tell.

“Hand up another,” he cried; “quick, quick!” Again he fired, while I loaded the first. In this way one after the other was discharged and reloaded, so that Tim was able to fire with a rapidity which must have astonished the Indians, who had not, apparently, until then discovered the existence of the window, as he fired eight or ten times before any arrows were shot in return. Still the savages, with unusual perseverance, rushed forward, carrying the log in their arms, and drove it against the door, which creaked and groaned under their repeated blows. From the sounds which reached us, it appeared too probable that they would succeed in breaking it in. But even should they do so, we might still defend ourselves on the staircase; for, as it would allow only one person to ascend at a time, we should be able to keep the whole horde at bay. How many Indians had fallen from Tim’s fire we could not ascertain, on account of the uncertain light and the rapid way they were moving about. He had probably oftener missed than struck an enemy. It was evident, however, that his fire had at length become too hot for them, as the blows on the door ceased, and he told us that they had thrown down the log, and were retreating.

“Hand me up another rifle,” he cried; “I’ll give them a few parting shots.”

“Oh, let them escape without further punishment, my friend,” said Lejoillie. “We should not wish to take their lives. They only acted according to their instincts, and considered that we were trespassing on their property.”

Tim did not seem to understand this idea; nor did Carlos, who, having his musket ready, sprang to the window and fired. The act nearly cost him his life for at that moment an arrow flew in, and, grazing his head, struck the wall behind him. This showed us that the Indians were on the watch, and that we must be careful how we exposed ourselves.

In the meantime, Dixie, our guide, had gone down to examine the door, and came back to report that it still stood firm, although the Indians’ weapons had made some impression on it, having formed a slit in the upper part, two or three splinters being actually driven in. It was thus evident that had they persevered they might in time have cut through the door; though the aperture would have enabled us to fire at them, and would probably have given us an advantage which they little expected. As it would have been difficult to stop up the hole, we allowed it to remain.

Doubting, however, that the Indians had gone off altogether, we kept a vigilant watch for their return. We soon found, indeed, that they were not so easily defeated as we had hoped. Again looking out of the window, I saw them coming back, each man loaded with a mass of brushwood. Their object was evidently to kindle a fire round the door; and having burned it down, to rush in and capture us while we were smothered with smoke. It was of the greatest importance to prevent them from placing the fagots as they intended; and Tim once more resumed his post at the window to fire at them as they approached. The wood they carried served as shields, which they held over their heads, and trusting to this protection they rushed forward, each man throwing down his load as he got near the door; but the bullets from Tim’s rifle struck several of them before they got as close as they intended. Notwithstanding this, however, a heap of firewood was piled up, in a short time, close to one side of the building. The Indians must, however, have known that the moment the flames burst forth, they would be brought into sight, and be more exposed than heretofore to our shots, and they therefore seemed very unwilling to set fire to it. At length the last fagot was thrown down, and Tim told us that he saw an Indian approaching with a flaming torch, which he had kindled at a distance.

“The fellow keeps leaping about like a regular Jack-o’-lantern; but I’ll soon put a stop to his dancing,” he added.

The Indians, however, must have foreseen that the torch-bearer would be specially exposed, and to cover his advance they began shooting their arrows with a rapidity which compelled Tim to keep under shelter. Several came through the window, while others struck the stones on either side. Still undaunted, Tim stood ready to fire. It must be remembered that we were in comparative darkness, the faint light which came through the windows alone enabling us to load our rifles, and see our way about the little rooms in which we were stationed. Again Tim stepped forward; the crack of his rifle was heard.

“I’m mightily afraid that I missed him,” he cried, as he sprang back under shelter. “Hand me up another rifle.”

Once more he fired.

“I’ve hit him this time,” he cried out; “but sure the fellow has thrown his torch among the fagots.”

The thick smoke which in another minute came curling up around us proved too truly that the Indian had effected his purpose; while the arrows which flew in at the window prevented us from firing. We could hear their shrieks and cries of triumph, as they believed that in a short time we should become their victims. None of us, however, thought of yielding. To avoid the smoke we went down to the lower story. Although a small quantity made its way through the crack, we could breathe freely, and we calculated that it would take some time before the outer door was burned through. We held a consultation as to how we should act when that should happen. Carlos was for rushing out, firing a volley at our assailants, and endeavouring to drive them back with our hunting-knives. Tim advised that we should hold the fort to the last.

“Sure, a little smoke won’t do us any harm,” he exclaimed. “The Redskins will have to clear away the ashes before they can get in, an’ we shall then have an opportunity of shooting down not a few of them when they do that.”

Lejoillie proposed that we should retire to the upper story, to which the Indians would not probably venture to ascend, as it could only be reached by a trap-door.

I, however, pointed out that they might fill the interior of the building with fagots, and setting them on fire, literally roast us. I therefore thought our safest plan would be to remain on the ground-floor, as Tim had proposed. Our guide also thought Tim was right, and we soon won Carlos and Lejoillie over to our opinion.

We spent, as may be supposed, a very anxious time. The fagots, being composed chiefly of green wood, though they caused a great smoke outside, did not burn as rapidly as we expected, and as yet the door, when we felt it, was not even hot. This satisfied us that hours might elapse before it was burned through. I again ran upstairs, and in spite of the smoke which came through the window, on looking out as the wreaths were occasionally blown aside, I saw that the Indians were keeping under cover to avoid our bullets, and waiting until the fire had done its work. They, of course, knew that the glare of the flames would expose them to view should they venture into the open. Finding that the top of the tower was tolerably free from smoke, I climbed up to the lantern whence I could obtain a view over the sea. I looked out eagerly for the schooner. She must have come up to the spot where we had left her, but she was nowhere visible. One thing I observed, however, was, that the tide, having already risen, was washing round the mangrove trees at the base of the tower; and it appeared to me that in a few minutes it would be surrounded.

As our distance from the schooner could not be great, I hoped those on board had heard the firing, and, guessing that we were attacked, would come to our rescue. On that point, however, I was uncertain, as the skipper would be unwilling to leave his vessel, and the few hands he could bring with him would, he might think, be insufficient to drive back the Indians. I was, therefore, not very sanguine that we should receive assistance from him.

I did not remain long in my exposed position, as, should I be seen by the Indians, I thought that some of them might steal up and make me a target for their arrows. I therefore hurried down again, to report my movements to my companions. That I was right in my conjecture as to the rising of the tide we soon had proof, for the water was already bubbling up under the door, loosened somewhat by the blows of the Indians’ battering-ram; and to avoid wetting our feet, we had to retreat from the lower steps of the stair. A hissing sound soon after showed us that the water, rushing in, was extinguishing the fire burning nearest the ground, though the upper part of the pile of brushwood still crackled and smoked as before. We now hoped that it might be an unusually high-tide, so that the tower would be completely surrounded.

Our hopes were not disappointed; the hissing sound increased, while the smoke decreased. In a short time the floor of the tower was a foot deep in water, and the smoke ceased to come through the slit in the door. I ran upstairs, though I could see the glare of fire. On looking out, I discovered that it was produced by portions of the burning brushwood, which were being carried away by the water as it swept in a broad sheet round the base of the tower. I uttered a silent prayer of gratitude. We were safe for the present. The attempt of the Indians to burn us out had failed; and after the reception they had met with from our fire-arms, they were not likely to venture again up to the tower by wading through the water. I called down to my companions, who soon joined me.

“We must not trust too much to them, though,” observed Carlos. “I know the cunning of the Redskins; they’ll wait until the tide falls, and then again attack us.”

As we watched the water, it seemed as if about to cover the whole level ground, leaving only a rock here and there above the surface.

“At all events, we shall be safe till daylight, as the tide won’t go down for some hours after then,” observed Dixie; “and by that time it will be curious if Captain Crump doesn’t send to look for us.”

On hearing this, I proposed that we should fire off our rifles from the summit of the tower, when probably the sound would reach him. Just as we were about to do so, Carlos exclaimed—

“Can that be a boat coming round the point there?”

I looked in the direction he pointed. I had little doubt about the matter. In a short time we clearly made out a boat pulling towards us. I fired off my rifle, and we all shouted at the top of our voices. She came on quickly, and we now saw her directing her course to the tower. The water was perfectly smooth; she was thus able to get up close to the base. Captain Crump himself was seated in the stern. He hailed, to know what had happened. A few words explained this. The difficulty was to get into the boat. Should we open the door, the water, which was of considerable height outside, would rush in and wet us all through, if it did not drown us. There was, fortunately, a long rope in the boat. By means of the straps to our knapsacks, our handkerchiefs, and some pieces of string which we mustered among us, we formed a line of sufficient length to lower down and haul up the rope. The end of this we secured to an iron hinge, to which a shutter had once been fixed.

Dixie, as the only sailor amongst us, offered to go first. He very quickly descended into the boat. We followed in succession; when the captain, standing up, cut the rope above his head.

“Now, lads, let’s make the best of our way back,” he said; “the tide will soon be falling, and I have no fancy to be stranded and have to fight a battle with Indians, or, what would be worse, find that they had made their way on board the schooner during our absence.”

We, of course, were equally anxious to get away from the dangerous neighbourhood; and pulling the boat out through the slight surf which broke on the shore, we were soon clear of the land.

On hearing our account, our worthy skipper congratulated us on our escape, and blamed himself for having allowed us to go on shore.

“I ought to have warned you not to go so far, for the Indians hereabouts are always ready to attack white men, if they can find them unprepared for resistance; and they have already cut off several settlers and hunters, whom they took by surprise,” he observed.

It was nearly morning by the time we reached the schooner, and as there was a light wind off shore, the captain immediately got under weigh. We were then glad enough to wrap ourselves in our blankets, and lie down on the deck to obtain the rest we so much needed.

Chapter Six.

The cruise continued—Among the islets—Turtles—Harpooning—A beautiful subject for study—Lejoillie obtains a supply of curiosities—A dangerous route—Tim’s advice—Caught in a gale—The schooner comes to grief—Resolve to cross the country—Voyage up the river—Monster fish—The canoe leaks—We land and camp—Silas munch—Appearance of the stream—An alligator island—Good shooting—An unpleasant concert—Encounter with a bear—A curious cry—Lejoillie secures a prize—The voyage finished—friendly counsel—“Jupiter,” our guide—We part with our pilot.

I cannot stop to describe the many adventures we met with on our voyage, or the curious scenes we witnessed. We were now sailing among that group of islands at the southern extremity of Florida, inside the ill-famed Florida reef, on which so many stout ships have been cast away. The inhabitants were mostly ruffianly characters, who lived by the plunder they obtained from the vessels wrecked on their shores. We put into a small bay in one of the largest of these islands, called Cayolargo. Though it is composed of coral rock, there are numerous spaces covered with dark-red soil, from which the inhabitants raise pineapples in vast numbers, as well as lemons, oranges, limes, bananas, mangoes, guavas, tomatoes, alligator pears, peppers, and even sugar-canes; but as there was no near market for their produce, they depended more on the booty obtained from wrecks than on the produce of the soil. As, however, they were all well known to our skipper, who had constant dealings with them, they received us in a friendly way.

We afterwards passed numerous inhabited keys, among which was a group called by the Spaniards Los Martires, or The Martyrs, from the number of seamen wrecked on them who have lost their lives. In the shallow water among the keys we fell in with several boats manned by whites and negroes engaged in fishing for sponges. Some waded out from the rocks, having a long pole with a scythe-like knife at the end of it, with which the sponges were cut off from the rocks. Others sat in the boats, using a bucket with a glass bottom, which, being sunk a few inches below the surface, enabled them to peer down into the water to a depth of nearly three fathoms. The sponges were then cut off with the knife I have just described. In deep water, divers were employed; but of course the risk was great, as they were liable to attacks from sharks and other monsters of the deep.

We fell in with a countless variety of animal life in enormous quantities as we sailed along within the reef. The most curious were the beautiful paper-nautili, which swim with their long arms extended in a straight line, their bodies contrasting with their fragile shells, being remarkably ugly, and appearing as if scarcely connected with them. Porpoises rolled along in large shoals, numerous sharks showed their dark triangular fins above the water, and turtles of several species floated on the surface; while ospreys and other sea-birds flew above our heads, darting down ever and anon to pick up a luckless fish which came within their ken. As the breeze fell light, our skipper determined to obtain a supply of turtle to feed us and his crew, and to dispose of at the first port we might touch at. He had been a turtle-hunter from his youth, and knew their ways, he told us, as well as any man. There are four different species—namely, the green turtle, the hawks-bill turtle, the loggerhead turtle, and the trunk turtle. The first is that which makes its appearance at aldermanic feasts. It deposits its eggs twice a year, in May and June. Its first deposit, in which it lays about two hundred and forty eggs, is the largest. The flesh of the hawks-bill turtle is not considered equal to that of the green turtle, but its shell is of great value as an article of commerce. It also lays eggs twice a year, in July and August; generally three hundred at a time. The loggerhead lays three sets of eggs, each averaging one hundred and seventy. The trunk turtle is frequently of enormous size, with a pouch like a pelican’s; the shell is soft, and the flesh is almost of the consistency of butter. It is the least valuable, having no shell, and the flesh being seldom eaten. They all lay their eggs much in the same way. On nearing the shore on a moonlit night, the turtle raises her head above the water to ascertain that no enemy is near, and if she thinks all safe, she emits a loud hissing sound to drive away any which may be concealed from her sight. Landing, she slowly crawls over the beach, raising her head, until she has found a suitable place for depositing her eggs. She then at once forms a hollow in the sand by shovelling it out from beneath her, first by her hind flippers, then with her fore ones, until a hollow has been dug nearly two feet in length. This operation she performs in about nine minutes. Having deposited her eggs in regular layers, which occupies about twenty minutes, she scrapes the sand over them, and then smooths the surface, so that any one passing would not discover that any creature had been there. This task accomplished, she rapidly retreats to the water, leaving the eggs to be hatched by the heat of the sun. On some parts of the shore, within the space of a mile, hundreds of turtles deposit their eggs. Each time they form a new hole, generally near the first. The young, when hatched, are scarcely larger than a dollar. Having scratched their way through the sand, they at once run towards the water, though a large number are picked up on their passage by birds and the numerous other enemies of their race. All turtles have beaks; but the loggerhead has the most powerful set of jaws, which enables it to crush the shells of mollusca of large size with as much ease as a man can crack a nut. Turtles swim through the water, in spite of their shape, at great speed, with the same ease apparently as a bird flies through the air; and we saw numbers of them, as we stood on the deck of the schooner, darting about in search of their prey.

“How will you ever get hold of these fellows?” asked Carlos, as the skipper was preparing to shove off in the boat, armed with his harpoon.

“You shall see,” he answered.

Tim and I took the oars, Carlos steered, and Lejoillie, note-book in hand, was ready to jot down his remarks.

Scarcely a minute had elapsed after leaving the side of the vessel, when the skipper told us to pull in the direction he pointed, while he stood in the bows of the boat, holding a single-pronged harpoon in his hand. He had seen a turtle floating just below the surface. Almost the next instant the weapon darted with tremendous force from his hand. To the harpoon a line had been attached, which had been carefully coiled away in the bows. This quickly ran out until the huge loggerhead turtle which had been struck reached the bottom, when we hauled taut the line and belayed it. We now sat quietly waiting until the turtle should be compelled to rise to the surface to breathe. About twenty minutes passed, when, as it came up, the skipper hurled another weapon into its body. Now began the tug of war. The turtle went rushing backwards and forwards, sometimes sinking, sometimes rising, the skipper taking care to keep the line over the bows, for had it slipped to the side, we should have been capsized in a moment so tremendous were the jerks the creature gave.

For nearly an hour the struggle continued, until the turtle gave in, when, passing a rope round one of its flippers to prevent its sinking, we towed it alongside the schooner. The turtle, however, was not dead. As we hoisted it on board, by means of the windlass and a couple of tackles fastened to a rope secured round its flippers, its huge jaws, large enough to bite a man in two, opened and shut, biting furiously at everything near it. We calculated that the monster weighed fully six hundred pounds.

We afterwards killed a hawks-bill turtle and two small green turtles, the flesh of which was kept for the cabin table. The meat was preserved by being cut up into slices and hung in the rigging to dry in the sun. After this we had turtle-soup, and turtle-steaks, and turtle-hash, until we agreed that we should infinitely prefer some slices of mutton.

It was extraordinary to observe what tenacity of life was exhibited by the turtles. For some time after the head was cut off it would snap at everything near it. Even the tail wriggled about after it was severed from the body. Captain Crump gravely asserted that, cut up a turtle as we might, it would not die until the moon rose. No doubt the heads still retained their muscular power until nightfall.

While in search of turtle, we pulled over a coral reef, where the water was so clear that we could see to the very bottom; and beautiful indeed was the spectacle we beheld. From the rocks grew sea-weeds of the most brilliant colours,—the peacock’s tail, sea-fan, and other lovely forms, hanging in wreaths round the holes; while shells of every variety covered the surface of the rocks, amid which appeared sponges, sea-eggs with long spines, and sea-anemones. Hither and thither darted fish of every size and hue, from huge sharks to green, red, and gold fish of the size of minnows. On the shore of an island where we landed we found an enormous number of shells of the most brilliant colours and graceful shapes, from which Lejoillie selected so many that we could scarcely carry them back to the boat.

After touching at Key West, where the United States Government has a naval station, and in the neighbourhood of which a town of some size has sprung up, we steered due north, intending to proceed to Cedar Keys, where the Great Alexander was to finish her voyage. The first place at which we were to touch was called Punta Rassa, at the mouth of the river Caloosahatchee. High up the river was Fort Myers, the most westerly of the line of forts extending across the country to keep in check the Everglade Indians.

Lejoillie proposed that we should try to make our way by these forts to the head-waters of the Saint John River, by descending which we might return to Castle Kearney. Our skipper advised us, however, not to make the attempt. He warned us that the difficulties in the way—cedar swamps, rivers, lakes, marshes, wild beasts, and savage Indians—would prove insuperable, and that we should probably never again be heard of.

“Consider, my friends, how much we should add to our stock of scientific knowledge,” said Lejoillie, who was not to be turned from his object.

Carlos and I were ready to accompany him; but Tim, who had listened attentively, took an opportunity of speaking to me on the subject, saying—

“It’s all very fine, Mr Maurice, for Mr Jolly to wish to know about the birds an’ bastes of the country; but what would be the good to him or any one else, if he got knocked on the head and scalped?—an’ from the capt’n’s account that seems to me mighty likely to happen. I’d stick to the Great Alexander, an’ return home in her. The longest way round may prove the shortest way back. Or I’d wait at Cedar Keys until we can find a party of soldiers crossing the country to Saint John River; for, depend on it, the Indians are in a bad temper, an’ it wouldn’t be safe to cross the country with a small party.”

I was much inclined to agree with Tim, and told him I would have a talk with my cousin about the matter.

The river with the long name is the southernmost of three streams which fall into a deep bay full of islets, called Charlotte Harbour. We had nearly reached a mangrove island, called Sanibel, when a squall from the eastward struck the schooner and almost laid her over on her beam-ends. The after-sails were quickly lowered, and as she righted away she flew before the gale, leaving the port for which we were bound far astern. The farther we got from the land, the heavier the sea became. At length the tossing and tumbling to which the old schooner was exposed began to tell on her hull, the seams opening and letting in the water at an unpleasant rate. The pumps and buckets were therefore set agoing, and we all turned-to, labouring at one or the other; but in spite of all our efforts there appeared a great probability that the Great Alexander would go to the bottom. Happily, however, the gale abated in time to prevent that catastrophe. Once more we hauled our wind and stood back, steering, however, for the northern entrance to the harbour, as our skipper intended to touch at Hickory Bluff, near the mouth of Pease Creek, instead of Punta Rassa, as he at first proposed doing. On standing in, however, we ran on one of the many oyster-banks which exist between the islands. As the tide was falling, we in vain endeavoured to haul off the schooner, which bumped pretty severely for some time,—an operation not likely to improve her seaworthy qualities. At last we were left almost high and dry,—the only advantage we gained from this being the power of collecting an ample supply of very fine oysters.

“Ah!” exclaimed Lejoillie as he popped one after another down his throat, “this is indeed a fine country, and might maintain a population as dense as that of China with the abundance of food its shores and surrounding seas afford.”

“What are we to do next?” asked Carlos, when we had finished our oysters.

“Wait till the tide rises, and then, if we can keep the craft afloat, make for Hickory Bluff, where I guess we shall have to put her on shore and try to patch her up,” answered the skipper.

“And how long will it take to perform that operation?” inquired Lejoillie.

“Maybe a week, or maybe a month,” was the answer. “I guess we shall have to put a new bottom into her, for most of her planks are as rotten as touchwood.”

This was not pleasant information, as we had still some miles to sail; but we were thankful that we had made the long stretch from Key West without going to the bottom. At last we did get off, and by dint of hard pumping and baling the Great Alexander was kept above water until we reached the neighbourhood of Hickory Bluff, on the northern shore of Pease Creek, when, the wind being favourable for the purpose, we ran the craft at high-water right up on the sandy beach just in time to prevent her sinking. As the tide on ebbing left her dry, we surveyed her bottom, when it seemed doubtful whether she would ever float again, and we had therefore to decide as to our future proceedings. Lejoillie, after examining the map, proposed that we should pull up Pease Creek to its head-waters, whence he calculated it was about a hundred miles to Lake Washington, through which the Upper Saint John River flows. We might perform the journey after leaving the canoe, he calculated, in ten days or a fortnight, or, by crossing another large lake in the intermediate space, considerably shorten the distance by land.

As we found no vessel sailing northward, Lejoillie’s plan appeared the best; and we accordingly, the next morning, having engaged a canoe, with two blacks to paddle and a white man to act as pilot, put up our goods in compact bundles, and bade farewell to the Great Alexander, her mosquitoes, cockroaches, scorpions, tarantulas, fleas, and bugs, as well as to her worthy skipper and his crew.

We then embarked on our adventurous voyage. Besides our crew, the canoe held Lejoillie, Carlos, Tim, and me, our stores (including powder and shot), and my faithful dog Caesar, who at once took up his position in the bows, where he sat, as if on the look-out to warn us of danger ahead. There were two spare paddles, of which Tim and I made use, as we were ashamed of sitting idle, and we found that we could greatly add to the speed of the canoe. Several times I felt something bump against the bottom of our craft, and, on asking our pilot what it was, he replied—

“Only maybe a shark or a devil-fish; they are pretty plentiful hereabout.”

Upon looking over the side indeed, so clear was the water that we could see vast numbers of monster fish,—not only sharks and devil-fish, but saw-fish, jew-fish, sting rays, whip rays, and other specimens of the finny tribe, of great size,—swimming below and around us in such numbers that they threatened to upset the canoe, and we actually struck them over and over again with our paddles.

By the time we had gone about a mile, having reached the centre of the river, a strong breeze sprang up, and a good deal of sea constantly broke over us, and compelled Carlos and Lejoillie to employ themselves in baling. Our pilot, however, assured us that, in the course of half an hour or so, we should be in smooth water, if we were not upset in the meantime. It made us shudder at what would be our fate should such an event occur. However, we were in for it, and determined to keep our course up the river. Our canoe, I should have said, was a dug-out, made from a cypress trunk, about forty feet in length and three feet in breadth, and sharp at both ends. She had eight thwarts, on which the paddlers sat, and a seat aft for the helmsman, who also used a paddle for steering. For several miles mangrove trees bordered the river on either side, without a single spot, so far as we could see, where we could land should it become necessary. Wind and tide being in our favour, we made good progress; but still the water bubbled over the gunwale, and the canoe leaked considerably. Our guide assured us that this was nothing, and that he would soon stop the leaks when we got on shore.

“If we don’t go down in the meantime, my friend,” said Lejoillie. “I rather think that in leaving the Great Alexander, we only tumbled out of the frying-pan into the fire.”

“Don’t trouble your head about that,” observed our guide, Silas Munch, whom, by-the-by, I ought before to have introduced. Born in the Bahamas, of British parents, he had come over to the States, and had become a naturalised citizen, such characters being known in that region as Conches. Hot sand and sea air had burned his countenance to a mahogany tint. He was small and wiry. His costume consisted of a broad-brimmed hat, a coarse blue cloth jacket worn above a jersey, while his nether man was clothed in leather gaiters reaching to the thighs, and strong boots, so that he was prepared for service either afloat or ashore. He carried a rusty rifle, with a powder-horn and belt slung over his shoulders, and an axe and long knife stuck in his belt.

We had paddled on all day. Still the banks appeared as far off as ever, and the water as rough as at first. Just, however, as the sun was sinking, Munch pointed out a sand-bank, where he thought that we could land and pass the night. We were very glad to get on shore, and haul up the canoe. While some of the party collected wood for a fire, and made other preparations for camping, Munch, taking his gun and a small iron pot, asked me if I would accompany him into the forest. In a short time we reached a group of pitch-pines, one of which he tapped, and collected the juice in the pot. Not far off also were some gum-trees, from which he gathered a handful or two of gum. With these we returned to the camp; when, mixing the juice of the pitch-pine with the gum, he boiled it down in a small tripod. The canoe being by this time dry, he spread the mixture over the leaks, and assured us that she would thus be perfectly water-tight. Though we kept up a blazing fire, the sand-flies and mosquitoes nearly drove sleep away, and we were all ready at early dawn the next morning to continue our voyage. We had now got beyond the influence of the tide, and had the current against us; but as it ran with no great strength, we made good way.

The river was still of considerable width, though the water was perfectly fresh. As we passed along the banks, alligators innumerable were seen. On one occasion a strong blast struck us as we were rounding a point, and almost drove our canoe among the tangled brushwood which lined the banks, where a dozen or more of these enormous reptiles were disporting themselves. They refused to move, until we were within a few feet of them, when half of their number plunged into the water right under our canoe, striking her bottom so violently with their scaly backs that we fully expected to be upset.

We paddled as hard as we could to get off the shore. Had we been capsized, our fate would have been sealed, for many of them were twenty feet in length, and could have crushed us and our canoe with one snap of their jaws. Happily, the brutes are as cowardly as they are powerful in appearance, and they were probably more frightened at us than we were at them. I rather think that Lejoillie, judging by his countenance, heartily wished himself safe on shore.

As we paddled on, the scenery changed, and animal life became more abundant. Snake-birds, uttering their shrill cries, flew off from every overhanging bough; kingfishers darted hither and thither, astonished at the appearance of our canoe; bitterns flew from tree to tree, and terrapins splashed hastily into the water, as we approached. Tall lilies, with large white, crimson, or purple blossoms, and beautiful flowers of various descriptions, fringed the water’s edge; while the banks were overhung with tangled masses of the densest tropical vegetation, beyond which rose forests of cabbage-palm, backed on the higher ground by tall pine-trees. The alligators continued as plentiful as ever; numbers of them lay on the banks, watching us with savage eyes. Lejoillie shot one of the fellows, who refused to get out of our way; indeed, had we not been unwilling to expend our ammunition, we might have killed scores of the monsters. We passed one huge fellow swimming slowly down the stream, with a number of birds on his back, to which also was attached a whole forest of boughs, reeds, and water-plants, so that he had the appearance of a floating island. Lejoillie was of opinion that he had been wallowing in the mud, as his back was thickly covered with slime, to which the water-plants and boughs had become attached so firmly that he was unable to shake them off. It was curious to see several birds flying about him; or settled on his back, exhibiting the most perfect fearlessness.

We encamped on a spot of much the same character as we had chosen on the previous night. A short distance behind rose a rich hummock, where live-oak, mahogany, mulberry, gum, cabbage-palm, and other valuable trees and shrubs, grew together in the greatest luxuriance. Beyond it stretched a savanna, where our pilot told us we should find abundance of small birds. At daylight we took our guns, and went in search of them. We saw plenty of quails, gorgeously coloured red-birds and blue-birds, and mocking-birds of sweet tone, but no animals of any size, though we came across not a few black snakes and rattlesnakes; the former, being harmless, were allowed to live, but we never failed to shoot off the heads of the latter.

We returned with a good bag of quails, which afforded us a luxurious supper. As game would not keep many hours, we had to eat it at once, or throw it away. We formed our camp with more care than usual, as our guide suggested that there might be Indians in the neighbourhood, or that a panther or a bear might pay us a visit, while it was not impossible that an alligator might come foraging into our camp. We kept up a large fire, therefore, and one of the party remained on watch, each man taking a turn of a couple of hours. About midnight we were aroused by a most fearful bellowing. We started to our feet, and, supposing that some unknown monsters were approaching, seized our rifles and pistols, ready to defend ourselves. On looking about, however, we could see nothing. Our pilot’s laugh reassured us.

“Those are only ’gators,” he said; “it’s the sort of music they’re fond of, and it’s no use trying to stop them. They’ll not come on shore while the fire burns brightly. As long as they keep in the water, they’re welcome to make all the noise they like.”

Never having heard the sound of the alligator’s voice before, I had no idea that it could give forth such fearful roars. As our guide had observed, there was no use in attempting to stop them; so they continued their horrible concert, preventing us taking a wink of sleep, until morning dawned, when we turned out, and gathered round our fire to enjoy our breakfast, for which our wakeful night had given us an appetite. As soon as our meal was over, we started; but we met with no particular adventure.

It was time again to land for dinner, or rather forage for our dinner, for we had no meat on board fit to eat.

Carlos and I accompanied Lejoillie, while the rest of our party remained to catch fish, and make up the fire for cooking them.

We had shot several snipe and a fat turkey, when, as we were clambering up a bank, being somewhat before my companions, I was not a little surprised to see, within four paces of me, the huge head of a black bear, peering over the tops of the palmetto to ascertain what was approaching. I mechanically raised my rifle to fire, calling at the same time to Lejoillie and Carlos to come to my assistance should I miss. I never felt more nervous in my life, for although I believed that I should wound the bear, yet I might the next moment find myself in his embrace, with his jaws applied to my neck. Aiming at his chest, I pulled the trigger, and then leaped back to avoid him should he spring on me. He, however, had been more frightened than I was. When my shot entered his body, he must have been on the point of turning to fly; but the bullet had taken deadly effect, and he had not gone ten paces, when over he rolled, and lay struggling on the ground. Lejoillie and Carlos coming up, fired into his head and killed him. We at once set to work to cut him up, and procured an ample supply of steaks for all our party.

Paddling on again, as usual, we continued our journey, until a favourable camping-place presented itself. During the night, while I was on watch, I heard a singular cry, ceaselessly repeated, which resembled the words, “Down-ka-dou, down-ka-dou,” accented in a guttural tone. I waited until I was relieved by Carlos; then, instead of lying down, rifle in hand I crept towards the point whence the sound proceeded, when I saw a tall bird standing in the water, every now and then darting forward, poking his long bill amid the reeds which grew around. I should at once have shot it; but I knew that, if I did so, I should be unable to pick it up without the risk of being caught by an alligator. Thinking that probably the bird would remain until the morning, I returned to camp.

As soon as Lejoillie awoke, I told him what I had seen. He and I at once set out with Caesar in search of it. We had not gone far, when, on dashing forward, a large bird rose, and was flying over our heads. Lejoillie fired, and brought it down. He uttered an exclamation of delight as he ran forward, observing that it was a bittern of a peculiar and rare species, of which he had not a single specimen in his collection. It stood nearly two feet high. The plumage was of a rich brown, streaked with black; its breast grey; its beak as sharp as a dagger. The loose plumes on its neck, with its large yellow eyes dilated, like all night-birds, gave it a stupid look. Lejoillie hurried back to the camp to skin it. On cutting it open, we discovered that it ate small birds, as a water-rail, which it had swallowed whole, was found in its stomach.

It took us ten days to ascend Pease Creek. Though the current ran at no place very strongly, it was against us; and as we got higher up, our course was obstructed by the trunks and branches of trees blown down by a tempest, through which we had to cut our way.

At length we reached a small shallow lake, from which the eastern branch of the river takes its rise. We had come to the termination of our voyage.

“I have brought you thus far in safety, gentlemen,” said Munch, as we paid him the stipulated price for his services, and the hire of the canoe. “I wish that I could accompany you farther, and that I could be certain you will get through without misadventure. I have little doubt about your finding the food you require; but I am not quite satisfied that you will escape the Redskins. Keep out of their way if you can; or if you fall in with any, show them that you are not to be trifled with.”

“I have a favour to ask, my friend,” said Lejoillie. “Will you allow your black, Jupiter, to accompany us? I have spoken to him, and he is willing to go if you will give him leave. I’ll pay for his journey back to Hickory Bluff, when we reach Castle Kearney. We should not wish to part with him until then.”

Munch hesitated. “Toby and I will find it a hard matter to paddle the canoe back without him. Still, as we shall have the current with us, I won’t prevent him, if he wishes to go. What do you say, Jup?”

“Me like to go with Massa Jolly, an’ Tim, an’ young gentlemen. Maybe dey not find de way without me,” answered the black.

“In that case you may go, if they pay your wages from the time we left Hickory Bluff,” answered Munch, who had an eye to business, and would thus save several dollars. To this Lejoillie at once agreed; and it was settled that Jupiter, or “Jup,” as he was more familiarly called, should join our party. We were very glad to have him, for he was an active, intelligent fellow; born of free parents in the country, and well acquainted with every part of it. He had frequently joined hunting expeditions into the interior, and knew the habits of the Indians as well as he did those of the animals we were likely to meet with.

The lagoon was filled with alligators, who shoved their noses up among the lilies and other water-plants, looking at us with hungry eyes, as if they would very much like to feast on our bodies. We managed, not without difficulty, to reach the shore, and, carrying our traps to a pine-ridge elevated three or four feet above the lake, we encamped. The next morning, having strapped on our knapsacks, we commenced our march eastwards; while Munch and his companion set off on their return voyage down Pease Creek.

Chapter Seven.

A dreary region—Hunting—The valley of mushrooms—An explosion and cannonade—Gobblers—The cabbage-palm—A palmetto-leaf hut—The mocking-bird—The red Orpheus—An evening’s amusement—Attacked by spiders—Sounds of the forest—“Jup” and the eagle—Indian trails—On the borders of Lake Kissimmee—Canoe or raft—Shooting an alligator—The cat-bird—Future movements—In camp—Our course selected—Making a raft—“Attacus Luna”—What Tim saw in the morning watch—About to start—An alarm—Indians—The raft launched—Under weigh—Out of range—Afloat on the lake.

We five travellers had been for some time making our way eastward in as direct a course as we could steer by compass across a pine-barren. The ground was as level as a floor. Now and then a rivulet appeared, from which we quenched our thirst; while the magnolias and other flowering plants on its banks relieved the dull uniformity of the woods. The sun, however, beat down on our heads with intense force, and our legs were torn by the sharp teeth of the saw-palmetto which covered the ground. Here and there rose distant islands of pine, which give the name to the region. Not a human being could we see, the only animal life visible being some lean wild cattle, which found a scanty subsistence in the natural grasses which had sprung up where the palmetto-scrub had been burned. Frequently we had to turn aside to avoid the swampy ponds fringed with saw-grass. The surface of these ponds was covered with water-lilies of various hues, amid which alligators large and small popped up their heads, warning us not to approach too near. Tall sand-hill cranes stalked about uttering loud whoops, until, disturbed by a shot from one of our rifles, they flew off to a distance. Turkey buzzards, useful but disgusting-looking birds, were feeding on the carcasses of some of the cattle which had died from disease, or been bitten by rattlesnakes. Near the edges of the ponds we observed the tracks of numbers of these snakes. Probably the cattle, going down to drink, had trodden on some of the creatures, and been bitten in return. We killed several which lay in our path.

We had been unable to get near any of the wild cattle, nor had we come across any deer, so that, with the exception of a duck, two snipes, and a plover, we had shot nothing that would serve for our supper. At last a hummock appeared in the distance ahead, and towards it we directed our course, intending to camp near its borders at an early hour, so that we might have time to obtain a supply of large game. As we approached the hummock, we found it to be of considerable size, and apparently denser than usual; still we hoped to be able to make our way into it in search of deer.

I have already described the various trees which grow on these hummocks,—enormous cabbage-palms and cotton-trees, scarlet maples and cedars, black and white gum-trees, magnolias, and many others, the whole festooned with creepers and hung with air-plants of gorgeous hues. The spot we chose for our camp was a high sandy ridge, on which grew a group of pines, affording shelter and firewood, while a stream flowed near, into the bottom, where it was lost to view.

Carlos, who was tired and somewhat out of sorts, remained with Tim and Jup to form the camp, while Lejoillie and I set out with our guns in search of game. We had not gone far when my companion fired at a duck of peculiar and beautiful plumage, with a black body and white tuft on its head. We hurried forward in pursuit between the thick trees, eager to secure the prize. The duck, however, again rose just as we had got up to it, but fell once more in a still thicker part of the hummock, where we could see through the trees the glitter of water. In spite of the numerous impediments in our way, we pushed forward until we found ourselves well-nigh in darkness, though the sun was still high above the horizon, the tree-tops which joined overhead being interlaced by numberless creepers of various descriptions, forming a roof impenetrable by the light of day. An almost insupportable mouldy odour, like the effluvium arising from a dead body, pervaded the atmosphere; but eager to obtain the bird, Lejoillie pushed on, and I followed. The pool into which the duck had fallen was covered with a green scum; and on throwing a piece of wood into it, the green changed into violet, as if some chemical product had been mixed with it. The ground itself was covered with a white efflorescence, which stuck to our feet, and made us slip at every step.

As our eyes became accustomed to the light, we discovered that we were in the midst of fungi or mushrooms of every shape and colour. Some were almost microscopic, collected on the bark of the decaying wood; others were of gigantic proportions, equal in circumference to the trunks of the enormous trees amid which they grew. No vegetables except moss and toadstool-like productions could exist in that airless and pestiferous region. In every direction lay the trunks of enormous trees blown down by some hurricane, so completely rotted by damp that a stick run into them went right through. They lay like vast skeletons, serving to nourish the mushrooms which grew vigorously in the rank vegetation.

Here also were vast gelatinous and transparent masses, from which oozed out a yellow-tinted liquid, of so venomous a character that a drop falling on the skin raised a blister. Other fungi were of dazzling whiteness, which Lejoillie likened to a casket of pearls, supported by an azure stalk. Many were in the shape of a Chinese hat, and of an orange-red colour, striped with silver bands; indeed, the whole tribe of fungi appeared here to have their representatives. Many were as tall as children, with heads upwards of two yards in diameter. Some were of rose colour, and resembled vast umbrellas. Still more numerous were those of a cup shape, and of a bluish tint, the interior resembling a huge pot.

We advanced in single file amidst the rows of giant mushrooms, not without considerable fear that in this gloomy valley some strange monster would suddenly appear before us, to resent our intrusion into his domains. Suddenly Lejoillie, who was a short distance in front, slipped on the slimy ground over which we were walking, as if on ice, and in falling struck one of the largest mushrooms, which, to my astonishment and dismay, immediately exploded with a report like that of a piece of artillery, throwing into the air a vast cloud of dust. Losing my balance almost immediately afterwards, I followed his example, when directly the whole valley resounded with reports, the mushrooms bursting on every side, as if defending their colony against the visit of strangers. Confused by the sound and blinded by the red dust which, filling our ears and irritating our eyes, made us sneeze and cough continuously, we beat a hasty retreat, entirely forgetting the duck we had come to seek. Not until we had got clear of the fusillade directed against us by the fungi, did we stop in our flight, when, clearing the dust from our eyes, and shaking it off from our heads and clothes, Lejoillie burst into a fit of laughter.

“You will like to understand how this happened, my young friend,” he observed. “Possibly others will be incredulous when they hear of our adventure. These mushrooms, like other vegetables, have the power of suddenly bursting without being touched, Nature having provided them with this means of spreading their seed over a wide extent of ground. The red dust which so disagreeably filled our eyes is composed of imperceptible spores, each atom containing a germ. The shock produced when we fell caused the explosion of some of the largest of these, and they set all the others agoing, though who would have believed that two brave hunters could be put to flight by mushrooms!”

Comical as was the adventure, the result to us was far from pleasant, for we both had our faces and hands covered with pimples, while it was some time before we ceased coughing and spluttering from the quantity which had got down our throats; indeed, the mushroom germs had completely poisoned us. We were still more vexed at the thought of losing the bird after encountering so much annoyance, when Caesar, who had followed us, appeared, bringing it in his mouth. Although we did not venture back again into the bottom of the hummock, we succeeded in killing a couple of fat gobblers, which amply supplied us all with supper and breakfast the next morning.

Just outside the hummock was a cabbage-palm, which, as I have said, abounds in Florida. It rose in straight and graceful grandeur to the height of a hundred feet without a branch, then burst into a mass of dark-green, fan-shaped leaves. In the centre of this mass grows the far-famed cabbage, which is a tender white shoot, protected by numerous fibrous folds. We were wishing for some vegetable, when Jup undertook to obtain a cabbage. Fastening a belt round his waist and the trunk of the tree, he worked himself up to the summit, when, drawing his knife from his belt, he cut out the vegetable. He then chopped off a number of the large leaves from the summit for the purpose of forming a palmetto hut, which might afford us shelter. We cooked the cabbage, though it is often eaten raw, and agreed that it resembled a Spanish chestnut in taste. Carlos told us that the tree would die in consequence of having the cabbage cut out, and Jup confirmed the statement.

Our huts were of the very simplest description. Fixing in two uprights, we secured a horizontal pole between them at their tops; and from this pole we suspended the enormous cabbage-palm leaves, stretching them out at the bottom, thus forming a thatched roof impervious to rain or sun. Where cabbage-palms grow, the hunter, as I have shown, can in a few minutes form a very efficient hut, capable of holding two or three people.

Numerous birds, inhabitants of the trees near our camp, amused us during the evening by their varied notes. One which we watched was of a graceful form, with a long fine beak, its plumage being grey-brown above and white beneath. Though larger than the nightingale, to which it has often been compared, it has a superior and more varied voice, but lacks that sweetness of expression and melancholy charm which have made the reputation of the plaintive Philomel. It has, however, a song of its own, composed of a dozen syllables, clear, sonorous, and harmonious, which runs over an extensive scale. At first, it entertained us with its own song, but in a short time began imitating those of other birds, which it did to perfection; indeed, Jup told us, and Carlos corroborated the statement, that it can imitate the human voice, as well as the hissing of serpents, the roar of alligators, the gobbling of turkeys, and the cry of all other birds. Lejoillie tried it by whistling a tune, when the bird imitated him, introducing a number of variations. The mocking-bird, for such it was, afforded us infinite amusement during the evening.

Another bird also made its appearance, called the red orpheus. It had a reddish-brown plumage, with a fawn-coloured breast spotted with black. It was about the same size as the mocking-bird, its note being very similar to that of the European blackbird, but more sonorous and melodious, and superior in some respects to that of the mocking-bird. It is of an equally graceful form, and has the same long fine beak. We found numbers of them in the forest among the cedars and myrtles, whose fruit they eat, and where also they chase various winged insects. Both these birds build their nests six or seven feet above the ground, on thorny bushes, or in wild orange trees. The nests are composed of the downy mosses of plants fastened together with the fibres of flax. The eggs of the mocking-bird are blue with brown spots; those of the orpheus are of a beautiful azure tint.

Scarcely had we turned in to our leaf-covered huts when I felt some creatures crawling over me. I jumped up, and running to the fire, shook off two or three horrid-looking spiders. My exclamations aroused my companions, and they likewise found several of the same spiders crawling over them. Tim cried out that he had been bitten, and that he felt an extraordinary numbness in the limb. Lejoillie said immediately afterwards that he also had suffered; and Jup, on seeing the creatures, declared that they were the most venomous of spiders, and warned us that if we went to sleep they might actually bite us to death. Lejoillie recollected having heard of the species, which is called the sleeping-spider. We accordingly, making up our fire, gathered closely round it, hoping that the creatures would not approach its flames. On examining the ground in the neighbourhood, we found a number of small holes, out of which the spiders were creeping in search of prey; but, as we had hoped, they did not venture close enough to the fire to reach us. We spent an uncomfortable night, and I was glad when it came to my turn to walk sentry. As I moved about I kept a watch on my feet, lest any of the venomous insects should climb up my legs. The ground appeared literally swarming with them. In the morning, when we came to examine it, we found that the whole bank was mined below with the galleries of thousands of these sleeping-spiders. So poisonous is their bite that it sometimes causes a lethargy, during which the person bitten passes from sleep to death. During the day these insects stop up their holes with sand, and only come out in the night. A dark-red line runs down their back, and they have flat heads. To struggle against these venomous creatures was impossible; it would have been more easy to contend with a pack of wolves, or any other wild beasts. The instinct of my dog induced him to crawl close up to the fire, where he remained all night so near to it that he nearly burned off his coat.

At daybreak I proposed to start off, to be at once free from the dangers of the neighbourhood. But Jup observed, “No fear now, massa; de spiders all gone to bed.”

Such was found to be the case, as they are strictly nocturnal hunters, and keep their holes closely shut during the day-time. We had therefore no longer any fear of being bitten, and were able to take our breakfast at our leisure. As soon as possible, however, after breakfast, we were again on the move.

We had much the same description of country to pass through as on the previous day—mostly open prairie, with pine-barrens and occasional hummocks. I cannot describe each day of our journey. In the early morning we were aroused half an hour before sunrise by a wonderful chorus of birds and insects, the mocking-bird and cat-bird making the greatest noise. At that time the inhabitants of the woods seemed to awaken to active life as suddenly as day succeeds the night, and night the day, in those Southern latitudes. The deep-sounding whoops of the sand-hill cranes—the cries of herons, bitterns, and ibis—the gobbles of turkeys—the confused quacking of flocks of ducks—the chattering of pelicans—the melodious voices of thousands of song-birds—the hum of millions of insects,—all combined to create a volume of sound which effectually banished sleep. As the sun rose above the summits of the trees, the various sounds gradually decreased, and during the heat of mid-day all seemed hushed in the stillness of death. As evening approached, once more the feathered songsters suddenly burst forth; then for a short time there would be silence; when again, towards midnight, the hootings and shrieks of numerous night-birds, and the more savage cries and hideous voices of alligators, wolves, and ocelots, would break our slumbers.

One evening we were nearly losing our black attendant, who not only had proved himself an intelligent guide, but was ready to serve us in every way he could. We had just encamped, when a short distance off an enormous eagle rose from a stunted tree on the borders of a neighbouring hummock. Lejoillie was anxious to obtain its eggs, or one of the young birds should they be hatched; and Jup immediately volunteered to climb up and procure one or the other. Supposing that the eagle had flown to a distance, Jup advanced to the tree, leaving his axe and knife, which he had been using, behind him on the ground. Some thick bark, and a few branches and twigs projecting from the trunk, enabled him to make his way up the tree in a manner none of us could imitate.

Lejoillie was engaged at the time in skinning a bird he had just before shot, and we were all busy in preparing the camp, when we heard Jup shriek out. He had ample reason for doing so. He had gained the branch of the tree on a level with the nest—filled with skeletons and bones of other birds and animals which the eagle had brought to feed its young. The parent bird, with its sharp eyes, though far beyond our sight, must have observed the intruder approaching its home. In an instant, down it swooped with discordant shrieks, and Jup with great difficulty managed to spring behind a branch to avoid its onslaught. Every instant it threatened to drive its sharp claws into his woolly head, or to peck out his eyes.

I was the first to see his danger, and rushing forward with my rifle, attempted to obtain a shot. I was afraid, however, that while trying to shoot the bird, I might wound the black. Jup shouted at the top of his voice, hoping to keep the eagle at bay.

“Come down, Jup! come down!” I cried.

“Bery well to say dat, massa, but not so easy to do dat,” answered Jup, who preserved his presence of mind.

I united my voice to his, and we were soon joined by Tim, who shouted as lustily as the black. This prevented the eagle from striking down at Jup, who now began to descend; and as there was sufficient distance between his head and the eagle’s beak, I fired. At the same moment I heard a crash, and thought the eagle had fallen; but when the smoke cleared away, what was my horror to discover Jup lying on the ground, while the eagle was clinging on to a branch just above its nest. Regardless of the bird, Tim and I ran to pick up the fallen black. Great was our satisfaction to find, on seeing him quickly get up, that no bones had been broken.

“Me go ’gain an’ get de eggs,” he said; “nebber fear.”

“We must dispose of the eagle first,” I answered; and Tim and I both firing, the huge bird, fluttering wildly, fell to the ground.

As we approached, it endeavoured fiercely to defend itself with its talons and beak; but Tim, clubbing his rifle, dealt it a blow on the head which put an end to its struggles. Its mate not making its appearance, Jup again ascended, and returned with a couple of eggs, greatly to Lejoillie’s satisfaction.

Eager as we were to get on, we had to lie by during the heat of the day, selecting the thickest shade we could find. After the sun had begun to sink in the west, we marched forward until nearly dark. We found it, however, generally necessary to allow ourselves time for an hour’s hunting, to secure a sufficient amount of game for our support.

We had, as may be supposed, kept a sharp look-out for Indians; but we had seen none, nor had we discovered any recent trails, though we occasionally came upon their abandoned camps, as well as the paths they had formed through the forest or across the prairie. We were somewhat surprised at this; but Carlos said he suspected that those who had inhabited that part of the country had moved northward, or had retreated to the Everglades in the south, where the Palefaces could not follow them. Circumstances afterwards occurred to show that he was right in both surmises—that the old men, women, and children had been sent into the impenetrable fastnesses in the south, while the warriors had gone north to join the forces at that time assembled under Powell, or Oceola, as the Indians called him.

We were now approaching Lake Kissimmee, which we intended crossing on our way to the Saint John. Reaching a pine-island—as those sandy elevations are called, rising out of the plain—where we intended to camp, we saw the lake before us. It was a question now whether we should march round its northern shore, or save ourselves a journey of twenty or thirty miles by crossing in a canoe, or on a raft which we proposed to construct. We held a consultation on the subject. Should a storm arise, we should be exposed to no small danger; while alligators, from the experience we had had before, might, we thought it possible, strike the bottom of the canoe or raft and upset it.

For the sake of obtaining a variety of food, Tim and I set off with our fishing-tackle—of course, carrying our guns—towards a large stream, which we discovered running into the lake. We saw plenty of birds on our way; among them the white ibis, the white heron, the snake-bird, and vulture. We found a bluff, with deep water below it, into which we had scarcely thrown our lines when we each hooked a large black bass; after which we caught several bream, cat-fish, and perch, until we had as much as we could carry.

I had gone down to the water to clean our fish; and I was so employed when, stooping down, I saw the snout of an alligator raised above the surface. Without moving, I imitated the grunt of a pig. The monster saurian, expecting to have a porker for supper, swam on, with jaws open, its wicked eye turned towards me. I had taken up my rifle, and when it was about eight paces off, suddenly rising, I fired directly down its throat. What was my horror to see it rushing forward at an accelerated speed. As may be supposed, I sprang up the bluff, not stopping to collect my fish; when the monster ran its nose right against the bank, and, in a vain attempt to land, rolled back again, fiercely lashing the water with its tail. Having made its way to the opposite side, after several convulsive struggles, it turned over and died. Had my foot slipped on the grassy bank, my adventures would probably have been ended. I was quickly joined by Tim; and while finishing the cleaning of our fish, we kept a sharp look-out.

Near the spot where we were encamped was a hummock, on which grew mulberry-trees, boxwood, and gigantic cypresses, six feet in diameter, their trunks and branches being completely enclosed in the india-rubber vine, which in this part of the country grows in great profusion.

On our return to camp, Tim and I were passing near a thicket when we were saluted with strange cries, resembling the mewings of a number of deserted kittens. As we approached to ascertain what creatures were uttering these strange sounds, they grew louder and louder. We caught sight, however, only of several birds, about the size of a thrush, flitting in and out among the branches, and stopping every now and then to look at us. As we passed on they followed, until we got close to the camp. We then called Lejoillie to come and see them.

He at once pronounced them to be cat-birds. Their plumage was brown, with black caps on their heads, their rumps being of a red orange tint. They seemed to have no fear of us; for, gathering on the boughs of the trees near the camp, evidently seeking our society, they began a most extraordinary concert, if such it could be called, for certainly it was not singing. Sometimes one of them would speak in a hollow voice, then another would bark, imitating Caesar; now one fellow would yelp like a fox, and make a rattling sound like that of a rattlesnake. Others croaked like frogs, and imitated the sneeze of a human being. Had we heard them without seeing the birds, we should have thought some strange creatures inhabited the wood; but, in reality, the birds were only trying, by producing sounds familiar to our ears, to tell us that we were welcome to their native forest.

It is very difficult to keep a cat-bird in captivity, as it soon pines and dies; or it would certainly be preferred to a parrot, on account of its far superior talent of imitation. Lejoillie refrained from killing any of our amusing friends, who remained watching us all the time we were in camp.

We required a day’s rest before proceeding farther on our journey; for we could not tell what difficulties we might have to encounter, and it would be necessary to be in full strength to overcome them. Having examined the ground thoroughly, to ascertain that it was not inhabited by spiders, like our last camping-place, we built three cabbage-palm huts, and collected fuel sufficient to keep up the fire during the night. Before turning in, we had another talk about our future proceedings. I undertook, the first thing in the morning, to climb to the top of the highest tree, from which I could get a look-out over the country to the eastward and north-east, round the northern end of the lake. Should it appear practicable, we resolved to proceed by land; but if not, we determined to spend the next day in building a raft to cross the lake. We expected to find it sufficiently shallow to enable us to pole most of the way over. We agreed to make some paddles, and, in case the wind should be favourable, to use our blankets as sails. Jup was the most experienced sailor among us, though we all knew enough about boating to undertake such a voyage without fear. We kept a watch during the night, so that, should any hostile Indians approach, we might fight for our lives, and not be murdered in our sleep, as might be the case should we be caught napping. For the sake of health, and to avoid mosquitoes, it was always necessary to camp on the highest ground we could find. We were more exposed to view from a distance than we should have been had we been able to light our fires in the hollows, where, during the night, we should have had the advantage of concealment. At the same time, from the high ground we could the better see an enemy approaching. Still, we had gone thus far and had not met any Indians, so that we might hope to perform the rest of the journey without encountering them.

The night passed away without our being disturbed. Occasionally a few creatures would pass by, their shadowy forms scarcely distinguishable through the gloom. We knew that they were either deer or wild cattle. Now and then a wolf would approach, or a puma, or ocelot; but a shout would send them to the rightabout.

As soon as daylight appeared, with the aid of Jup, who accompanied me, I succeeded in getting to the top of a tall pine. On looking out I was convinced, from the clear green to the north of the lake, and from its flat appearance, that it was swampy. As far as I could judge, the swamps extended to the shore of another small lake, still farther to the north, Jup agreed with me that it would save a troublesome journey through marshes if we were to cross the lake, as had at first been proposed.

Directly breakfast was over, therefore, we set off for the shore of the lake, where we were fortunate in finding a hard piece of ground by the side of a stream which ran into it, a point extending out into the water; and we could only hope that we should find a similar landing-place on the opposite side. On the hard ground, a couple of feet above the water, grew a number of pines. Several of the smaller as well as larger trees had been blown down by a hurricane, and were sufficiently dry, and yet not rotten, for our purpose. Lopping off the roots and branches, we collected six trees, each about thirty feet long, which one by one we managed to roll into the water. The cross-pieces were more easily obtained. The whole were fastened together with what the Spaniards call sipos, or creepers, which make a very tolerable rope for such a purpose. On the top of this framework we placed a sort of platform of reeds, which would, we hoped, keep us free from the water. We had still to cut some long poles; a couple of spars for masts, and two more for yards; a paddle to steer by, and one for each of us. Night was approaching by the time we had quite finished. Altogether we were well content with our performance, though perhaps a more experienced sailor would have hesitated to trust himself on such a structure. As the mosquitoes would have allowed us but little sleep had we attempted to remain near the lake at night, we returned to our camping-ground on the ridge, having previously dragged the raft up on shore. On our way I saw Lejoillie eagerly eyeing the branches of a tree producing a sweet gum.

“Stop, stop!” he exclaimed, “in case you may alarm it.” And he began opening his butterfly-net, which lay in a case he always carried in his pocket.

I looked in the direction towards which his eyes were turned, and saw a magnificent moth sucking gum exuding from a branch. It was more beautiful than any I had seen. The body was of a flesh colour; the wings broad and of a tender green, with blue, crimson, and orange spots. I stopped while he advanced, trembling lest the specimen might escape him. With what eagerness he closed the net over it! and I felt almost as rejoiced as he seemed to be that he had captured the treasure. He told us that it was called the “Attacus luna,” and that it was the most beautiful moth in Florida. The caterpillar produces silk, though it is not equal to that of the better known silkworm.

The naturalist appeared as delighted to have secured the moth uninjured as most people would have been to pick up a nugget of gold. By degrees we had expended a portion of our ammunition and provisions; but as Lejoillie added to his collection, our loads were not much lightened, though his bird-skins, moths, and insects were not very weighty articles.

Tim, who had the morning watch, averred that he had seen a human being approach the camp, and apparently having examined it, steal off again. He had advanced and challenged, but no reply was made. His first impulse, he acknowledged, had been to fire; but he recollected in time that the intruder might have had no hostile intentions, and, at all events, as we were not in an enemy’s country, he had no business to shoot the man, whoever he was. Tim was so positive on the subject that we could not doubt him.

We breakfasted at daybreak, and strapping on our packs, marched down to the lake, prepared to commence our voyage. Before starting, Jup and I again ascended a tree overlooking the lake, that I might ascertain whether there were any islands in our course, or whether, as is often the case, the surface was covered with water-plants, which might impede our progress.

All appeared clear, however, as far as my eye could reach. I was about to descend, when, looking to the south-west, I caught sight of a number of objects moving across the prairie. I pointed them out to Jup.

“Injins!” he exclaimed. “Dey comin’ dis way; better git off, or maybe dey take our scalps.”

As I agreed with him, we hurriedly descended, and rejoined our companions, who were already beginning to launch the raft. It was no easy matter to do so, and we had to cut some stout sticks for handspikes before we could manage to get it into the water. While thus engaged, several alligators poked their noses above the surface to look at us, but the shouts we raised quickly made them disappear. Scarcely was the raft in the water, when, happening to look round, I caught sight of thirty or forty Indians, bedecked in war-paint and feathers, fully armed, emerging from the brushwood, and not a hundred yards away.

“Shove off! shove off!” I cried. “Their bows carry far, and we must put a wide distance between them and us.”

Springing on board, we each seized a pole and began impelling the raft from the shore. The Indians, seeing that we were about to escape, ran forward, uttering loud shouts and calling on us to come back.

“Very likely we’ll be afther doin’ that,” observed Tim.

No one else spoke; we were labouring for our lives, for it was evident, from the savage shrieks of the Indians, that they intended mischief.

“Let us fire and bring down some of those fellows,” cried Carlos.

“Very little satisfaction in doing that,” observed Lejoillie. “Shove away, my friends, shove away; the farther we can get from them the better, for, packed together as we are, they may shoot us down at once. Shove away, shove away, I say.”

We followed Lejoillie’s advice. We had got to a considerable distance from the bank before the Indians reached it. The moment they did so, they drew their bows and let fly a flight of arrows, which plunged into the water close behind our raft; but happily we were just beyond their range, or not one of us would have escaped. The water by this time was deepening, and we had to take to our paddles, and endeavour still farther to increase our distance; for the savages, intent on capturing us, had begun to wade off, with fresh arrows in their bows, ready to send another flight, at the same time uttering loud cries and shouting out to us to return. They were possibly not aware that we had provided ourselves with paddles and had already got into deep water.

Rushing forward until the water was up to their waists, they again sent their arrows whistling towards us, several actually striking the raft, though not with sufficient force to stick into it. When they saw that we were really beyond their reach, they vented their disappointment in fearful yells.

“Shriek away, ye redskin savages,” cried Tim; “your noise doesn’t hurt us. If you don’t look out for yourselves, you’ll have some of the ’gators snapping off your legs presently.”

The cries of the Indians, however, had the effect of keeping the creatures at a distance, and several swam past us, evidently alarmed at the unusual sounds.

We were now all paddling away with might and main, two on each side, the black steering and sculling with his paddle at the same time. Fortunately, the weather remained fine, and the wind, which was light, was in our favour. What we had to dread most was a strong wind springing up from the eastward, which might have driven us back and placed us at the mercy of the savages. We were still uncertain whether we should altogether escape them. They might build a raft and pursue us; or might be acquainted with some path leading along the northern end of the lake, by which, light-footed as they were, they might get round to meet us when we landed, or to follow up our trail.

We found paddling a raft harder work than we had expected, and our arms soon began to ache. Stopping for an instant, I tried the depth of water. It was still too great to enable us to use our poles with advantage. At length, however, the breeze increased, and I proposed that the masts should be stepped, as they were all ready, and that we should hoist our blankets for sails.

This we at once did; but they did not hold enough wind to help us as much as we expected, and we still had to keep the paddles going. Looking back, we could see the Indians on the shore; which was satisfactory, as it made us hope that they did not intend to follow us by land.

“It will take them some time to build a raft,” observed Carlos. “If they do, we shall then encounter them on equal terms, for we could pick them off with our rifles before they could get near enough to shoot their arrows at us.”

We continued our course to the opposite shore, which appeared as far off as ever. We had, however, reason to be satisfied that we had decided on crossing the lake on a raft; for had we attempted to go round by land, we should inevitably have been overtaken by the Indians.

Chapter Eight.

Crossing the lake—Safely landed—Lost in the forest—A spectre—The Mantis tribe—Chasing a wounded deer—In a dilemma—Wolves—Up a tree—A weary night—The siege raised—Search after my companions—Sufferings from thirst—Water discovered—Overcome by fatigue—Found by Caesar—Meeting with Tim Flanagan—One way to make a blaze—Signals for our friends—The deserted hut—Proofs of an Indian tragedy—Plans for continuing our journey.

We had been paddling on for some time, not making more than two miles an hour. At length the eastern shore of the lake began to grow nearer. It was low, with no trees of any size growing on its bank. We feared that on landing we should have to wade through a swamp infested by snakes, and probably by alligators, before we could reach dry ground. We could see the northern shore, which appeared to be of the same character; and this made us hope that the Indians would not have attempted to go round and intercept us. The western shore was still discernible, but too far off to enable us to see whether the Indians were still there.

“I wonder where those fellows were going?” observed Carlos; “they evidently did not belong to this part of the country, or they would have found us out before.”

“Me tink dey go norf on war-trail to join de great chief Oceola,” observed Jup. “Dey say ’fore long de red men kill all de Palefaces in de country, an’ agin have it for demselves.”

“Not very likely they will make such a mad attempt,” observed Carlos with a laugh. “The Palefaces would clear them off the face of the earth were they to play a trick of that sort.”

Jup shrugged his shoulders. “Me only tell massa what oders say,” he answered.

At last, beginning to grow hungry, we agreed to stop paddling and take some food, while Jup steered. The meat we had cooked was already rather high. We had only some small flour-cakes, and some baked roots to eat with it. Hunger, however, prevented us from being fastidious, and we had plenty of water alongside to wash it down.

As I was dipping my tin mug into the lake, a huge snout suddenly rose, and very nearly caught my hand, as well as the mug. Tim gave the monster a whack with his paddle, which made it quickly sink again. It was a lesson to us to be careful how we put our hands into the water. The wind now dropped, and the sun beat down with intense force on our heads; but we had to endure it and paddle on, for it was important to get on dry ground before darkness should overtake us.

“Hurrah!” I exclaimed, as I put my pole into the water; “I can touch the bottom. We shall soon be making better progress than hitherto.”

I was right. The water shoaled rapidly. By shoving along with our poles, we made the raft move twice as fast as before. At length a line of tall reeds rose before us. The sight was not encouraging, for we could neither force the raft onwards, nor make our own way through them on foot. We therefore turned southward, hoping to find some dry ground at no great distance from the water. On and on we went, but still we could see only reeds and swamp. At last we caught sight of some pines; most welcome they were, as they betokened a dry and sandy soil. We now came to a bay. Although lined with a narrow belt of reeds, we hoped to force our way through them. We accordingly ran our raft onwards as far as it would move, then wishing it farewell, with many thanks for the service it had rendered us, we plunged into the reeds—Tim, as the strongest of the party, leading the way, and holding his gun over his head in case he should unexpectedly fall into an unseen hole. Sometimes we were up to our waists in water. Still we worked our way forward. At last Tim gave a shout of satisfaction as he landed on dry ground. We all quickly followed, poor Caesar panting and blowing with his exertions as he made his way after us. Clouds of mosquitoes and other stinging insects had been attacking us in our progress, but we were by this time too well inured to them to think much about the matter. We agreed, at all hazards, to push on to the pine-ridge which we saw before us, that we might encamp there for the night.

As soon as we gained a spot of sufficient height to overlook the lake, we turned anxiously round to ascertain whether the Indians were following us, but we could see them nowhere on the water. We were still, however, uncertain whether or not they would pursue us by land, and Jup and I again climbed to the top of a high tree, to try and obtain a look-out over the country to the northward. To our relief nothing moving was seen; so descending, we made our way with our companions to the ridge.

It was hopeless to seek for any place of concealment in the hollows; besides the dangers from animals, we were certain to be attacked by innumerable stinging insects, and to run the risk of being bitten by poisonous snakes. We therefore lighted our fire on the top of the ridge.

Lejoillie, Carlos, and I went off with our guns in search of game, as we had exhausted our stock of provisions. We had gone on farther than we intended, when on looking round we could nowhere see the smoke of our fire; while a bank of clouds which had risen in the west, and gradually spread over the sky prevented us, as we had expected to be able to do, from making the sun our guide.

Lejoillie had shot a turkey; but as this was insufficient for our party, we were anxious to kill some larger game. We were still pursuing our search, and not far apart, when Carlos exclaimed, “See here! I have found a creature which will show us our way. Come here quickly and try it.”

We hastened to the spot, where we saw, seated on a large leaf, a creature with a thin body like a walking-stick, with long legs, and antennae stretched out. “It is a yellow and black spectre,” said Lejoillie, drawing one of his cases from his pocket; “a magnificent specimen. I must secure it ere it escapes.”

“Oh, don’t do that!” cried Carlos; “I have heard it said that if we ask it the way, it will stretch out one of its arms in the right direction; and we shall have no difficulty in making our way back to camp.”

Lejoillie laughed. “From whom did you hear that?” he asked.

“The Indians believe that it has that power; and, of course, as they are better acquainted with the creatures of this country than any one else, they must know.”

“Bah!” exclaimed Lejoillie; “I thought, Carlos, you had too much good sense to be influenced by so foolish a superstition.”

“Look at it!” cried Carlos; “it is lifting up its paws and praying. What else can it be doing?”

Lejoillie afterwards explained that it belonged to the Mantis family; that instead of being a praying insect, it is one of the most combative and savage in existence. “It lives upon beetles and flies of every description,” he added. “When two of the creatures of the same species meet together, they engage in a fierce combat, cutting at each other with their fore legs with such force as sometimes to sever the body of an antagonist with a single blow, when the victor generally eats up its opponent. There are many others of the same family, some resembling leaves. The Chinese in the southern part of their country keep these creatures in cages, and make them fight with each other.”

While the naturalist was giving us this lecture, he was suffocating the spectre, and pinning it down in his case. We soon after this separated for the purpose of creeping up towards a herd of deer of which we had caught sight. I had got some way to the right of Lejoillie and Carlos, when I caught sight of a buck feeding near a clump of trees. I was afraid of calling to my friends lest the animal might hear my voice. Stooping down, I crept on, concealed by some tall grass, till I got within thirty yards of the deer, when I fired. From its movements I knew that I had hit it, and expected to see it fall immediately. Instead of doing so, off it ran, leaving a trail of blood behind it. I felt assured from this that it would soon drop, and I pursued as fast as my legs could carry me, reloading as I ran. It had, however, got out of shot. Still I followed, certain that it would slacken its speed, and that I should again get it within range of my rifle. On and on I went, not having time to look behind me to ascertain if my companions were following, as I supposed they were doing.

After some time the deer began to slacken its pace, and I felt more confident than ever that I should overtake it before dark. I had scarcely observed, however, that the gloom of evening had already commenced. The form of the deer became more and more shadowy, but still keeping it in sight, I followed, until it suddenly disappeared. It must have fallen to the ground, I thought, which accounted for my not seeing it; and so on I went. I was not mistaken; before long I stumbled over the body of the animal, still living, but fast bleeding to death. With my hunting-knife I at once put an end to its sufferings. It was too large an animal to carry back whole to the camp, so I began as well as I could in the gloom of evening to skin it, and cut off the best portions of the meat,—an unpleasant operation, and one in which I had had but little experience, though I had frequently seen deer cut up by others. I prepared as much as I could carry, with part of the skin when, considering in which direction I should turn my steps to reach the camp, I felt myself utterly at a loss to decide. I had several times turned the deer about, so that I could not ascertain the position in which it had fallen. To attract the attention of my friends, I fired off my gun. I listened for a reply, but could hear none. Still, I hoped, by proceeding across the pine-barren, that I should in time see the light of their fire. I, accordingly, shouldering my load of meat, set off.

The night became unusually dark, and it was with difficulty that I avoided stumbling over fallen trunks or running against the stumps of trees. I occasionally shouted, and several times fired off my rifle. I should have fired oftener, but was unwilling to expend more of my powder. I thought I was going straight forward, and had gone on for about two hours or more, when I found my feet strike against an object on the ground. I felt it was part of an animal. A further examination convinced me it was the body of the deer I had killed; and I found, to my annoyance, that I had been going in a circle, and had reached the very spot whence I had set out. It would be useless, I felt, to make another attempt to reach the camp, and I made up my mind to remain where I was. I had my flint and steel, and so I searched about for broken branches to make up a fire. I had not forgotten the risk I ran of being bitten by a snake. I searched and searched for some time, but in the dark I could only find a few sticks, though very likely I passed by many which would have served my purpose.

I was thus employed, when I heard a howl at no great distance off. It was the voice of a wolf. It was repeated by another and another. The sounds grew nearer and nearer, until it appeared to me that a whole pack must be collecting around me. Had I been able to make up a large fire, I should have had no fear of the savage creatures. I threw down my sticks, with a handful of leaves which I had picked up, and endeavoured to strike a light; but the leaves were damp, and would not catch the sparks I sent among them.

All this time the howling increased. The wolves were attracted, I had no doubt, by the carcass of the deer, and they might be content with that instead of attacking me; but when they had finished it—and it could not last long—I thought it probable that I should become their victim. I tried again and again to light the fire, but in vain.

The wolves now broke into loud cries and howls, and I could now distinguish their forms as they approached the spot. I shouted at the top of my voice, hoping to drive them off. They halted, apparently; but the moment I was silent they again advanced. I might have shot two or three of them, but should have expended my ammunition before I could kill the whole pack. I remembered that near at hand was a tree, with branches at a height from the ground to which I could reach. I searched about for it, and found it was close at hand. Slinging my rifle over my shoulder—for I felt the importance of not abandoning it—I caught hold of the lowest branch, and, hauling myself up, got my feet upon it. I was thus able to climb up to another, out of the reach of the wolves, which could, I knew, leap up to a considerable height, and might have attacked my feet had I remained on the lower branch.

Unless the brutes should go off in search of other prey when they had finished the deer, I should have to remain in the tree all night. It was a far from comfortable position; still it was better than being torn to pieces by the brutes. I was afraid of moving about when once I had fixed myself on the branch, lest I should fall, as my rifle and load of venison greatly impeded my movements. I managed, however, to unsling my rifle, and seat myself in a position whence I might fire at the wolves.

Scarcely was I secure in the tree, than on they came, rushing at the deer, which must quickly have been torn to pieces. I could see only their backs and tails in a thick mass surging about in the gloom. I fired and killed one, which its companions quickly devoured. I was about to fire again, when I reflected that by so doing I should only detain the horrid brutes close to me, and that they were much more likely to take their departure should they find nothing on which to feast. They must, however, have scented the venison I had, for they came round the tree, howling, and snapping, and snarling, trying to get at me. It was like a hideous dream. I shouted again and again, in the hope of driving them away; but they seemed resolved on my destruction. I may say that I never passed a more unpleasant night in my life. The only hope I had was that my friends would come to search for me in the morning, and that they might be attracted to the spot by the howling of the animals. I had no fear of going to sleep while the wolves kept up their hideous chorus.

Towards morning a drowsiness crept over me, and I had the greatest difficulty in maintaining my perilous position. I kept myself awake, however, by uttering every now and then a loud shout. At last I became conscious that the light was increasing, although I could nowhere see the bright streaks which usually usher in the dawn. Looking up, I saw that the sky was overcast, as on the previous evening; and I feared that I might still find it a very difficult matter to make my way, even should the wolves go off and allow me to descend the tree.

I was getting very hungry, and, as I had left my pack at the camp, I had only the raw venison to eat. As the light increased, I broke off some rotten branches, with which I pelted the wolves, uttering at the same time loud cries; but they only snapped at the pieces of wood, proving how they would have treated me had I fallen among them. I was greatly tempted to kill some more of them, but, remembering how they had devoured the one I had before shot, I refrained. Though almost overpowered with the desire to sleep, the dread of falling into their midst kept me awake.

Hour after hour passed by. In vain I looked out for my companions; no signs of them could I discover, though I climbed to the highest part of the tree, nor could I anywhere see the smoke of their fire. It was already past noon, when I caught sight of a solitary deer making its way across the open pine-barren. One of the wolves must have seen it too, for the brute, giving a peculiar cry, set off, followed by the whole pack. The deer saw them coming, and endeavoured to increase its speed; but it was, I suspect, wounded, perhaps by one of my friends, thus giving me hopes that I might before long fall in with them.

As soon as the wolves disappeared I descended the tree; and feeling desperately hungry, I lost no time in collecting sticks, which I could now easily do, and lighting a fire, aided by some rotten wood which I found in a hollow trunk near at hand. My venison was but very partially cooked when, unable to restrain my appetite, I began to eat it. After a few mouthfuls, however, the thirst which came on made me look about in search of water; but I could find none near at hand. The meat was in the meantime cooking. I ate enough to satisfy my hunger, and would have given much for a drop of pure water. Without it, I felt that I should not have strength sufficient to resume the search for my companions. I should have left the greater part of the venison behind me, as I knew that it would not keep long, but that I hoped to fall in with them before long, and guessed, in case Lejoillie and Carlos had failed to kill a deer, they would be very glad of it.

My difficulty was now how to direct my course. I looked round in every direction. The country wore so uniform an appearance that I could not determine from what point I had come. Had there been water near at hand, I should have remained where I was—the wisest thing to do under such circumstances; but water I must have, or I should perish. I accordingly set off intending to keep a straight line, and hoping to fall in with my companions, or to discover their trail should I strike the lake. I should then obtain the necessary water, and know afterwards how to direct my course. Praying that I might be successful, I took my rifle in my hand, ready for use, and marched forward. On and on I went, keeping along the pine-barrens, and avoiding two hummocks I met with. I had no longer any desire to eat, though I felt fearfully faint from thirst; but, unfortunately, I could discover no fruits with which to assuage it.

Once more evening was approaching. I scarcely expected to get through another night without water. I was almost dropping with fatigue, when I caught sight, between the trees, of what looked like a pool in a hollow. I hurried forward as fast as my strength would allow me, and discovered that it was the bed of a river. Though a large portion was dry, there were here and there pools along its course. I did not stop to ascertain whether the water was pure or foul, or whether the pool was full of alligators; but stooping down, I eagerly dipped in my hand, and conveyed the precious liquid to my mouth.

The clouds had cleared away from the horizon, and I was thus able to ascertain the whereabouts of the west by seeing the sun setting with a fiery aspect in its full circular form. By this I knew full well that a sultry day would follow. Multitudes of insects now filled the air, buzzing round my head; hundreds of piping frogs rose from the pool at which I had drunk; the birds flew to their roosts; the squirrels ran to their nests; and I could hear the voices of several herons as they wended their way to the distant swamps. Now the night-birds broke forth with their shrill cries; but overpowering sleep oppressed me. Even the roar of an alligator or the cry of a puma could not have kept me awake. Darkness rapidly came on, and there was no moon to light me on my path. Making my way to the nearest tree, whose spreading branches afforded some shelter from the night-dews, I knelt down and prayed for that protection which I felt I so greatly needed. Then I stretched myself on the ground, and almost in an instant was asleep.

I awoke, conscious that some animal was near me. I felt its breath on my face, and it had taken my hand in its mouth. I expected the next moment to have its fangs fixed in my flesh; but still I could not move. Then I heard a low whimper, followed by a bark. I started up, and opening my eyes, discovered my faithful dog Caesar, who was endeavouring to arouse me to consciousness. I returned his caresses as he fawned on me, finding me not dead as he supposed. It was still dark; but I no longer dreaded having to wander about by myself; he would prove my guide and protector. He seemed by his actions to indicate that he wanted me to get up and follow him. I at once came to the conclusion that my friends were encamped not far off, and that he would lead me to them. I was about to strap on the remainder of the venison, when the horrible smell which proceeded from it showed that it was no longer fit for human food; though Caesar, who appeared to be very hungry, willingly made a substantial meal off it, when I gave him leave to take what he wanted. As I looked round, great was my satisfaction to see, by the warm tints in the sky, that day was already breaking.

Caesar, having finished his meal, once more bounded on, and then came back to ascertain that I was doing as he wished. I followed him, eagerly running forward. He kept along the bank of the stream, which apparently, in the wet season, spread out over the rocky bottom, now perfectly dry. On either side grew oleander, acacia, laurel, paw-paw, and many flowering shrubs; while in the distance, against the sky, I could see a tall tree scathed by lightning, and leafless.

In vain I looked out for a fire, to indicate the camp of my companions, when suddenly Caesar, starting forward, gave a loud bark. Hurrying on after him, I caught sight of a man stretched on the ground, with his rifle by his side; and, to my great joy, I recognised Tim Flanagan. On hearing the dog bark, he started up and rushed towards me with outstretched arms.

“Is it you, Mr Maurice, yourself?” he exclaimed, as he eagerly took my hand. “I thought that you had been lost entirely; an’ all yesterday, an’ all this night, an’ the best part o’ last night, too, I’ve been huntin’ for ye until my legs would carry me no longer; an’ I sank down on the ground, thinkin’ if I didn’t find you I’d never show my face at Castle Kearney again. If it hadn’t been for Caesar, I never should have found ye, for not a foot farther could I have stirred without some food; an’, sure, that’s what I’ve not had since yesterday mornin’.”

My first inquiry was as to where our friends were encamped.

“Faith, Mr Maurice, that’s jist what I cannot tell,” he answered. “I set off to try an’ find ye as soon as Mounseer Jolly an’ Mr Carlos came back; an’ next mornin’, when I returned, not a sign of them could I see at the camp. Why they moved on is more than I can say, except that they thought we should follow in their trail. Maybe they imagined the Indians were comin’ afther them; or perhaps they wanted water, and went to look for it.”

I, of course, could not conjecture what could have induced Lejoillie and Carlos to proceed on their journey without waiting for Tim and me. “But how came you not to shoot some game?” I inquired.

“Faith, Mr Maurice, I had an accident, an’ lost all my powder; an’ it’s a mercy I didn’t lose my life too. I was tryin’ to light a fire, which wouldn’t blaze up, seein’ the sticks were green, when what should I do but take my powder-flask an’ begin to shake a few grains on it. On a sudden away went the flask out of my hand with a loud bang, gettin’ shivered to pieces, an’ knockin’ me over. I picked myself up, thinkin’ I was kilt entirely; but I wasn’t the worse for it, barrin’ the loss of the powder an’ the duck which I had put ready to roast; an’ Caesar had a little of his coat singed. The worst of the business was, that I could no longer hope to shoot any game.

“Fortunately I can spare you a few charges; and we must make our stock last as long as possible,” I said. “The first thing we have to do is to shoot something for breakfast, and to look out, on our way, for any fruit which may help us to enjoy it.”

While wandering alone, I had often been almost in despair of ever finding my way. With Tim as my companion my spirits rose, and I felt perfectly happy when, shortly afterwards, I brought down a fat gobbler, which Caesar routed out of a bush close to us; while Tim, the next instant, killed a duck. We lost no time in making up a fire to cook our game; and we enjoyed a hearty meal, while a neighbouring pool afforded us water to quench our thirst.

Greatly revived, we prepared to set off eastward fully expecting that before nightfall we should be with our friends. Tim said he was certain they were to the right of us. We had, however, gone on but a short distance when a thick mist came sweeping along from the eastward, completely shrouding the whole country, as well as the sun above our heads, so that we had no object by which to direct our course. In a country like Florida, where there are no mountains, and the taller trees grow in hollows, it is most difficult to find one’s way, except by compass, when the sun is obscured; still we thought we knew the direction of the east, and continued on, every now and then uttering a loud shout, hoping that our friends might be within hearing. We agreed at last that, although they might not hear our voices, they might hear the report of our guns; but that we might expend our powder with some benefit to ourselves, we agreed to wait until we saw an object to fire at.

We were passing, soon afterwards, near some ponds, when we shot three or four birds, and coming near a hummock, we killed several others, which we thought would be welcome to our friends, or would, at all events, supply us and Caesar with food for the next day. We still fancied that we were going right. Shortly afterwards, we entered a pine-barren, or, rather, I might call it a pine-forest, through which we struck on a well-defined track, the grass on either side being so tall that we could scarcely see over it.

We had been going on for several hours, when we suddenly found ourselves in a more open space. On one side was a deserted hut, near a pool of fresh-water, while a number of tall trees, which had been cut down by the woodmen’s axes, lay prostrate on the ground. We examined the hut. There were bed-places for three or four men; and just outside was a circle of blackened stones, with ashes in the centre, which had evidently formed the fire-place; but everything else had disappeared. While searching about, Tim exclaimed that there were marks of blood in one of the bed-places; and, on examining the spots, I agreed with him that the stains were those of blood. His opinion was, that one of the party had been surprised asleep in the hut by the Indians, but that the rest, being out at the time, had made their escape, and were afraid to venture back.

On leaving the hut, Caesar ran to a little distance from it and barked. We followed him, when great was our horror to see the body of a man stretched on the ground. The poor fellow had been scalped, clearly showing by whom he had met his death. His jacket had been carried off; his shirt was torn, as if the savages had been about to take it off him when they were interrupted. From the appearance of the body, he had, we conjectured, been dead two or three days, perhaps longer, for, as it lay in the shade, it was not so decomposed as it might otherwise have been.

“I’m afther thinkin’ the sooner we get away from this place the better,” said Tim, as, having hurried from the spot, we stood near the pool I have described, from which Caesar was lapping the water.

“I don’t see that we run much risk while we remain here, as the Indians are not likely to come back again,” I answered; “at the same time, I more than ever regret having parted from our companions, and I shall be thankful when we find them again.”

The result of our consultation was, that we agreed to push forward as long as daylight lasted, and should we not find our friends in the meantime, to camp at nightfall. Had we been amply supplied with powder I should have been less anxious about our possible fate. The Indians who had murdered the poor woodcutter had, I trusted, passed by; and we earnestly hoped that we might not fall in with any other bands on their way to the north. We thought it possible that we might come upon the settlement to which the woodmen belonged; but we had, as yet, fallen on no trail which might lead to it, and as the mist still hung over the face of nature, we had nothing to guide us. Still we went on, both of us believing that our faces were directed eastward.

Chapter Nine.

Camping out—Sufferings from thirst—Napping—Heavy fogs—The phantom deer—Reduced to extremity—A tortoise guides us to water—Fight with a bear—Relief—Camp for the night—March continued—Increased sufferings—On the wrong track—Snake for breakfast—Hard training—Tim’s ammunition expended—We reach a lake—My last shot—Death of Caesar—Sinking from privation—Tim procures food—Dine on frogs—Our usual bill of fare—I succumb at last—I beg Tim to proceed alone—We come upon some black settlers—Help at last—An invitation.

Again Tim and I camped without having fallen in with Lejoillie and Carlos. Although we were anxious about ourselves, we had also reason to fear that they might meet with some disaster. They had, however, plenty of powder and shot. They had also a compass to guide them, so that, notwithstanding the foggy state of the atmosphere, they might be able to keep a direct course towards the Saint John. The birds we had shot afforded us an ample meal; and by cooking them at night, we had sufficient for breakfast the next day.

Notwithstanding the heat during the day-time, at night, owing to the thick fog, we felt it chilly in the extreme. The trees dripped with moisture; and it was with difficulty we could find a dry place to camp on. Tim insisted on watching, while I slept; but as soon as I awoke, I made him lie down, and sat up by our fire with my rifle by my side, trying to keep my eyes open by throwing on sticks so as to maintain a bright blaze which would keep wolves or pumas at a distance.

My faithful Caesar crouched by my side, every now and then opening his eyes and looking about to ascertain that no foe was near. Perhaps trusting to his vigilance, I made less strenuous efforts to keep myself from dozing; certain it is that, after a time, I sank down on the ground. When I awoke, the fire had almost gone out, and my blanket was nearly wet through. I jumped to my feet, and endeavoured to make the fire burn up again, puffing and blowing with all my might. I was unwilling to call Tim to my assistance.

While I was thus employed, day dawned. Though the light increased, the same heavy fog hung over the face of nature, and it was impossible to ascertain in what direction the sun was rising. We wrung out our wet blankets, and hung them on some sticks close to the fire to dry, while we breakfasted off some of the game we had cooked on the previous evening; but it was already high, and we knew that it would be useless to carry the remainder with us, except for the sake of Caesar, who would not object to it on that account.

“It won’t do to stay here doing nothing,” I observed; “we must look out for water, and try to kill some more game for our next meal.”

“Faith you’re right, Mr Maurice,” said Tim. “I’m mighty thirsty as it is; an’ though there is no sun, we shall find it hot enough when we begin to trudge on.”

We accordingly rolled up our blankets, strapped on our packs, and commenced our march for the day. Our footsteps showed us the direction whence we had come, and we hoped that we had been directing our course eastward. As we marched on through the midst of a wide-extending pine-barren, eagerly looking out for water, we allayed our burning thirst by sucking some leaves which still retained the moisture precipitated on them during the night. Though the fog continued, the precious drops soon dried up, and our thirst became almost intolerable. Poor Caesar followed with his tongue out, showing that he was suffering as well as we were. No deer or other wild animals crossed our path. The fog prevented us from seeing more than a few yards off, so that it was possible we might pass close to water without discovering it. Had either of us been alone, we should most likely have sunk down in despair; but as it was, we encouraged each other, though we did not talk much, for our tongues were too dry to speak.

We were almost in despair of finding water, when Tim stopped, and whispered, “See there!” pointing on one side, where I could just make out dimly through the fog the form of a deer crossing the grass. In another instant it might disappear. We raised our rifles at the same moment, and fired. As the smoke cleared away, we expected to see the animal struggling on the ground, but it had vanished. We dashed forward, in vain looking out for it. When we reached the spot where we believed that it had been standing, we could discover no traces of blood to show that it had been wounded. We must have been deceived by the fog, for we could not suppose that we should otherwise both have missed.

Caesar rushed on, and we followed, hoping that he had got upon the trail of the deer.

“There it is! there it is!” cried Tim, after we had gone a considerable distance, and either the same deer or another rose before us, as indistinctly seen as the first. We stopped to reload our rifles, then cautiously crept forward. But the animal must have discovered us; for scarcely had we raised our rifles to our shoulders and pulled the triggers, than it vanished.

“I hit it, Tim; I’m sure I did!” I exclaimed.

But we were again doomed to disappointment; not a trace of the deer could we perceive. I cannot describe our sensations. It made us feel as if some phantom were mocking us. But it was by the fog alone we had been deceived, and we had both probably fired too high. We resolved that, should we see another deer, only one should fire at a time; and it was agreed that I should fire first, and should I miss, Tim should dash forward and try and get another shot before the animal had disappeared. In our eagerness to get up to the deer, we had not sufficiently marked the direction we had come, and we had to stop and consider how we should direct our course. We both thought that we were right, and once more we went on. We were now feeling hungry as well as thirsty, and I was very faint; still, knowing that it would not do to give in, I struggled on as well as I could. Had the fog cleared away, and enabled us to see the sun,—although the heat would have been increased,—we should have been in better spirits, for we should have known whether or not we were in the right direction. Now all was uncertain. We were uncertain but that we might be retracing our steps towards the lake, going west instead of east, as we wished to do. My watch told me that the day was advancing. Should we not obtain food and water before the morning, I felt I could scarcely hold out until then.

“It will be a pity,” I heard Tim muttering; “but it must be done sooner than let the young master die.”

“What’s that you say?” I asked.

“I’m just thinkin’ that we must kill Caesar an’ eat him. If we die, he’ll die; for the wolves an’ painters, or maybe the rattlesnakes, will be puttin’ an end to his life, so that it’ll be no cruelty to kill him an’ save ourselves.”

“I should not have the heart to do that,” I said. As my hunger increased, however, I began to think it would be better to eat poor Caesar than to die of starvation. Still, watching the faithful animal as he trotted on beside me, unconscious of the subject of our conversation, I resolved that it should only be done when we were reduced to the direst extremity. “We must wait until nightfall, Tim. I think I can hold out another day. I’ll try my best, at all events,” I said.

We walked on some way further, scarcely exchanging a word, when I saw a creature moving in the grass before me. I thought it was a snake, and was about to lift my gun to blow off its head, knowing that it would serve us for food, when I perceived that it was a tortoise.

“Hurrah!” cried Tim; “there’s something that will keep us and Caesar alive for a day at least.” And he rushed forward with his axe uplifted, intending to kill the animal.

“Stay!” I exclaimed. “See, it is evidently going steadily forward, as if making its way to water. It will lead us to it if we follow it; and when it has performed that service, we may kill it if necessary.”

I had to hold back Caesar, who would have attacked the tortoise, which went steadily on, as I expected. Afraid of getting too close, lest we might alarm it and make it conceal itself, we kept at some distance. Our impatience, however, made us wish that it would move faster than it was doing. It went on in a straight line, apparently not discovering us, as we followed behind. How we longed that it would break into a run. I remembered the fable, however, of the hare and the tortoise: “Sure and steady wins the race.” Parched with thirst as we were, it was a hard matter for us to restrain our eagerness. On went the tortoise, turning neither to the right nor to the left. It seemed to us that the ground was sloping, and that we were on the edge of a pine-barren. Perhaps it was making its way to some bottom or hummock, where we should find not only water but game. Tim and Caesar, however, became very impatient at the tortoise, which crawled on, taking no pains to hurry itself. I confess I myself had the greatest difficulty in not running on and giving it a shove with the muzzle of my rifle.

At length some palmetto-scrub appeared, and palmetto-palms and other trees which cannot exist without moisture. How thankful we felt when, just before the gloom of evening came on, a pool appeared before us. We forgot the tortoise, and dashed forward, eager to quench our thirst. While we were stooping down to do so, and Caesar was busy lapping the refreshing liquid, our slow-moving guide reached the water. I thought that it would put in its head, and drink as we were doing; instead of which, before we could catch it, the creature plunged into the pool and disappeared. However, I scarcely regretted this, as, by destroying it, we should have ill requited the valuable service it had performed to us.

The water greatly revived us, and we felt we could endure hunger for some hours longer, should no animal come in our way. As there would, however, still be some few minutes of daylight, we might be able to kill a bird or two for supper. Rising to our feet, we lost no time in looking out for game. We saw several birds,—green paroquets, woodpeckers, blue-birds, and red-birds; but we had frightened them from the spot where we had at first appeared. We accordingly made our way along the pool, Tim going in one direction, I in the other. I was very unwilling to throw away ammunition on small birds; but we had agreed to kill no more than we wanted. I soon shot a couple, and heard Tim fire twice. Just as I was reloading, I saw, through the thickening gloom, a huge brown bear descending a cabbage-palm, up which it had climbed to obtain the bunches of ripe fruit growing on the boughs. Though alone, I determined to attack it; so I dropped in a ball instead of small shot, as I was about to do. Creeping closer, I took, as I thought, a steady aim, and fired. Unfortunately, however, the bear was only wounded; and dropping to the ground faster than it had intended, it came towards me, growling furiously. I retreated slowly, reloading, and shouting to Tim to come to my assistance. The bear, however, advanced more speedily than was at all pleasant. Seeing a tree close to me, I stepped behind it, and again fired. The ball struck the bear; but the animal did not fall. It stopped, however, for a moment, and bit and scratched at its wound, giving me time to run behind another tree and again load. Tim now came running up. The bear was thus exposed to a cross-fire. Tim, supposing that the next instant the bear would be upon me, fired, forgetting that his gun was only loaded with small shot. He hit the animal, but in a way which only made it more furious. On it came, gnashing its teeth, resolved apparently to have its revenge on me. Knowing that my life depended upon the result, I took a steady aim at its chest. I fired, and over it rolled. As the bear was making desperate efforts to rise, Tim, going up to it, presented his rifle close to its head, and shot it dead.

“Hurrah!” he shouted; “we’ve got mate enough now to put strength into us for a good day’s march.”

We lost no time in cutting off as much of the bear’s flesh as we required for ourselves and Caesar. We then collected a quantity of firewood, keeping a look-out for snakes as we did so, and carried it up to a dry spot away from the pool. Losing no time in making a fire, we put on some of the meat to cook. I confess, however, that, to satisfy the cravings of our hunger, we chewed a portion of it without waiting till it was roasted. By the light of the fire we then constructed a hut of palmetto leaves, placing Caesar in front to give us warning should danger approach, for neither Tim nor I was able to watch.

After we had supped, before lying down I gave my powder-horn a shake. A very small quantity of powder remained. Tim imitated my example, and I guessed, by the blank look of his countenance, that his stock was equally reduced.

“It’s to be hoped that we’ll not be afther wantin’ it much, for I am mightily afraid that I’ve only got another charge or two remaining. We may, however, strike the Saint John to-morrow, an’ it won’t be long before we fall in with settlers,” he observed.

“We have reason to be thankful that we killed the bear, then,” I answered. “Do not let us anticipate misfortune until it overtakes us.”

We made as large a fire as the fuel we had collected would allow, and hung up our bear’s meat inside our hut for security. In spite of the howling of wolves and other noises which came across the pool, we fell asleep; and the hut sheltering us from the dews, we were far more comfortable than on previous nights. I heard Caesar give a bark two or three times, but that did not arouse me fully.

The night passed away without disturbance. At daybreak we packed up some of our bear’s flesh, which we hoped would keep good until dinner-time. Then having taken a draught of water, we continued our march, as we believed, to the east; but the fog still hung over the country, and we were left in as much doubt as before. We soon found ourselves again on the pine-barren; indeed, in spite of the prickly shrubs here and there, it afforded us better walking than any other part of the country. On and on we went, suffering almost as much as on the previous day from want of water. We halted about one o’clock to dine. Our bear’s flesh, even though roasted, was already high, and we feared that we should be unable to eat it for supper. We were able, however, to procure several wild-fruits and nuts, which, from the birds eating them, we knew to be wholesome, and these somewhat allayed our thirst.

The fog continued all day, there not being a breath of wind to blow it off. It made walking very fatiguing. Another night was approaching. We caught sight of some deer, but were afraid of expending our last charges of powder without being certain of bagging our game. We did not actually go supperless to bed, for by recooking the bear’s meat, we managed to eat it; but we did not partake of a morsel more than was necessary to satisfy our hunger, though Caesar enjoyed a good meal.

The wind got up during the night, and the next morning the sun rose in a clear sky, just as we unrolled ourselves from our blankets.

“Now we shall know our way!” cried Tim, as he sprang to his feet.

I looked round to examine our trail of the previous evening. We had been tramping west instead of east, or very probably had been going round in a circle; at all events, we had gone away from the Saint John River. We had now to retrace our steps.

Steering in the direction whence the sun was rising, the bright beams dazzled our eyes. We had nothing to eat; but we hoped that before long we should be able to kill a deer or some large bird which would afford us sufficient food. We now guessed that our friends must be ahead; probably while they had been searching for us, we had been going away from them. All we had now to do was to press steadily onwards.

We were getting desperately hungry, when I saw something move in the grass a little in front of us. Hoping that it might be another tortoise, I ran forward, and found that it was a large black snake. I might have shot it; but not wishing to throw away a charge of powder, I drew my axe, and as it turned hissing towards me, with a single stroke I cut off its head. It was of a non-venomous species; but, oppressed by hunger, even had it been a rattlesnake, I would have proposed to eat it.

“Here is food, and we must not be particular,” I said.

Tim hesitated. “Sure, Mr Maurice, you’ll not be afther eatin’ a snake,” he said.

“I could eat a toad, or a potful of caterpillars,” I answered; and having cut off a portion for Caesar, I slung the remainder over my shoulder. We hastened on until we came to some brushwood, where we could collect sufficient fuel to make a fire. The Indians, I knew, eat snakes of all descriptions. We soon had it skinned and roasted; and Tim was surprised to find it far more palatable than he had expected.

“We shall not starve if we keep our wits awake,” I said; “but we must not be over-particular as to what we eat.”

Again we pushed on. I remembered the cabbage-palm, and determined to climb the first tree of the kind we met with to obtain a cabbage. It would be a change of diet, at all events.

I must pass over many of the incidents of our dreary march. One day a gobbler got up, at which Tim too eagerly fired, and missed. His last charge was thus expended. I had still one left. We saw several deer, but even the nearest was so far off that I dared not fire.

Though we were never actually without food for more than a day, the hard life we were leading was beginning to tell on both of us. Our shoes were almost worn out, our clothes torn to shreds by the prickly shrubs; and when I looked at Tim, and observed how thin and careworn he was, I supposed that I was much in the same state.

At last we saw the sheen of water in the distance. The sight raised our spirits. We made towards it, though it was somewhat out of our way. It might be the Saint John, or one of its affluents, or perhaps a long lake. We had had no food all day. We should be certain to find wild-fowl on its banks, whether it was a lake or a stream. On reaching it, we were still uncertain what it was. Trees and shrubs grew thickly on the bank, beyond which were reeds, and on its surface floated water-lilies and other aquatic plants. I had my gun in my hand, when a large bird of beautiful plumage rose directly before me. I could not resist the temptation to fire. The bird did not drop immediately, though I saw that it was badly wounded. After fluttering, however, for a short time, it fell into the water. My faithful Caesar immediately plunged in and swam towards it. Forgetting for a moment the savage monsters which inhabited the streams and lakes of Florida, and eager to obtain the bird, I did not call him back. On he swam, and was just about to seize the duck, when he gave a loud cry, resembling a shriek rather than a bark, while he struggled desperately to return. The next instant, to my horror, my faithful animal disappeared beneath the surface. As he sank I caught sight, through the water, of a monstrous alligator, which was dragging him down. Had I possessed another charge of powder, I might have rescued him, or, at all events, have avenged his death; but my flask was empty.

I stood in vain expecting to see him reappear, but the monster had got him firmly in his grip. I watched and watched, and—I am not ashamed to say it—when all hope was gone, I burst into tears.

“We’ll never see him again,” said Tim, who now came up. “Those brutes keep their prey down at the bottom of the water, until they become rotten enough to suit their taste. It’s no use looking afther him any longer. If we only had a store of powder an’ bullets, we’d pay the villain off. Come along now, master dear; it’s time to be lookin’ out for some other food.”

“But we must try and get the duck,” I said, recovering myself.

“Sure you’d not be afther venturing into the water?” observed Tim.

“No; but perhaps the bird may float near the bank, and we may draw it in with a large stick.”

It appeared to me that the duck was already floating in towards the shore, when a black snout was seen above the surface, and the next instant the bird was snapped up and carried off by another alligator.

Whether the water was a stream or pool we could not ascertain,—there was no perceptible current; but still we hoped that by keeping along its bank it might lead down to the main river. We therefore got clear of the underwood, and proceeded in the direction we had before been following. Great was our disappointment to find, after going about a mile, that it came to a termination, and that it was only one of the many lakelets which are scattered over the face of the country. We saw several deer, and birds innumerable flew among the trees or rose from the bank of the lake, but none of them could we reach. We gazed at them with longing eyes.

“Maybe the river is not far off, and it will be best to push on for it,” observed Tim; “an’ when we get there, we shall fall in with settlers, or, at all events, be able to make our way either by land or in a canoe till we can borrow a fresh supply of powder and shot.”

I was not so sanguine as Tim on these points, for I knew that few if any settlers were to be found so high up the river, and that days if not weeks might pass before we could reach the habitations of civilised men. We now entered another pine-barren, stretching away to the eastward, which must be crossed before we could reach the river. Of its size I had no notion; it might extend for miles. Not a particle of food had we eaten during the day, and I was becoming so faint that I could scarcely drag one leg after the other. We talked of making traps to catch birds, but neither of us had much experience in the art of trap-making; and unless well acquainted with the habits of the birds frequenting the ground on which we might set our traps, we might starve long before one was caught. We could only therefore trudge forward, looking out for any living creature or any vegetable which might afford us food. Nothing could we see; even the snakes seemed to avoid us. We would have eaten frogs could we have found them, but not a pool in which any lived did we come across.

Another night was approaching. We should have to lie down without food or water; but to proceed during the darkness was impossible. Tim kept up his spirits.

“Sure we’ll be afther finding something or other to eat,” he exclaimed. “Sit down under this tree, Mr Maurice dear; I’ll not go far from you, so don’t be afraid of losing me.”

I followed his advice, for I felt myself utterly incapable of going further. Scarcely had he gone twenty yards, when I saw him hurl his axe towards the root of a tree; then running forward with a shout of satisfaction, he lifted up an animal, which I saw was a young racoon. His weapon had almost cut it in two. We were not long, it may be supposed, in lighting a fire and cooking the flesh, almost the whole of which we devoured between us. I sighed as I thought of poor Caesar, and wished that he had been alive to eat a portion of my share. Our hunger satisfied, we rolled ourselves in our blankets, and quickly dropped off to sleep, with our fire burning at our feet. Had a puma wandered that way, we might easily have become its prey.

It was daylight when we awoke, but another of those heavy fogs which had before bewildered us covered the face of nature. We felt much inclined to remain where we were, until the fog should lift, and we might see how to direct our course. We ate the remainder of the racoon, but soon afterwards began to suffer from thirst, so Tim advised that we should move on in the hopes of coming to a pool, if not to the river itself. He was sure that he could steer a right course. I was doubtful about that, but as my thirst increased, I was ready to run every risk for the sake of finding water. On and on we went. Noon had long passed before we reached a small water-hole in a bottom fringed with reeds. We eagerly quenched our thirst, in spite of the nauseous taste of the water. Then Tim, thinking the pool too small to contain alligators, plunged in and began catching frogs.

“Get a fire lighted, Mr Maurice; we’ll soon have some of these cooked,” he shouted out to me while thus employed.

Without much hesitation, after they had been a short time cooking, I plucked off the legs of the creatures, and eagerly ate them. They served to satisfy our hunger, if they did not do much to maintain our strength. We should have been more content had we been certain that we were approaching the river.

Without the sun by day and the stars by night to guide us, we might have been going, for all we could tell, to the right or left of our course; or, perhaps, even back again. I regretted not having more carefully studied the map. I knew that the Saint John River, in many places, consists of a chain of small lakelets, connected by a narrow stream; but of their position or extent I was very uncertain.

The next day found us wandering on across the pine-barren, as did the following, while the mist hung heavily over the country. During this time Tim killed a snake, and we fell in with another tortoise, which hunger compelled us at once to kill. Then again the mist cleared off, and we were able once more to proceed with certainty. I felt sure that during the previous days we had made but little forward progress, having gone rather towards the south or north, than on the course we wished to follow. Had either of us been alone, we should, I again felt, have sunk down and given up the struggle for life. At last we fell in with another hummock, in which were several cabbage-palm trees. Weak as I was, I managed to climb up and cut out the head of one of them, which afforded each of us a meal, though we suffered somewhat from eating it. I am afraid to say how many snakes we killed and ate. We certainly devoured between us half-a-dozen lizards, and at last learned to make frogs an ordinary article of diet. In spite of the food I have mentioned, which though varied was insufficient, we felt conscious that we were getting weaker and weaker. As I looked at Tim, I knew that he could not hold out much longer; and though he did not say what he thought of me, I believed that I was in a worse state. Often I detected him turning his eyes towards me with a sad expression. He insisted on carrying my gun and blanket, the weight of which greatly oppressed me. At last, when we had been wandering about for nearly two weeks, a sudden faintness came over me, and I sank to the ground. Tim threw himself by my side.

“Ochohone, ochohone! What will I be afther doin’, Mr Maurice dear?” he exclaimed. “Cheer up, cheer up! Sure we’ll be gettin’ to the river before very long, and findin’ some food which will give you strength.”

As, however, I still felt unable to proceed, I proposed that he should push forward alone, as I was sure we could not be very far from the river. He might thus, at all events, have a chance of saving his own life, although I might not recover. I urged him not to lose time, but to try and find some food, hoping that a good meal would give me strength to proceed. As I insisted on his doing this, he begged that he might first carry me to a tree, at the foot of which he made up a bed with our blankets; and leaving our guns by my side, he hurried across the hummock. It appeared to me, however, that he was a long time absent. I began to be afraid that some accident had happened to him, when I saw him coming back, holding up a big racoon. This, though I could eat but little of it, enabled me once more to proceed. Another evening was approaching, and as yet no signs of the river appeared. The country, however, improved in appearance. We were now making our way through a fertile tract of open savanna, here and there covered with fresh green grass, and bordered by small hummocks full of trees, brilliant with orchids and other flowers. There were birds of sweet song and beautiful plumage—ivory-bills, red-birds, and mocking-birds, green paroquets, and many others of the woodpecker tribe—filling the forest with their various notes.

We now felt sure that we were approaching the river; but again a faintness came over me, and I doubted very much whether I should reach it. Suddenly Tim exclaimed, “Hurrah! I see a hut, and people moving about it. Even the Redskins would not refuse to help us; but I’m afther thinkin’ they’re either white men or blacks.”

Mustering my failing strength, I hurried on, helped by Tim. As we drew nearer, we saw two black men, and a woman seated on the ground, with a child near her. One of the blacks advanced, while the other stood gazing at us with no very friendly expression. I suspected that they were runaways, and that they fancied we had come in search of them. When, however, they saw our forlorn and tattered condition, and heard Tim exclaim, stretching out his hand, “I’m sure you’ll be afther givin’ assistance to your white brothers in distress,” the expression on their countenances changed.

“Who are you? Whar you come from?” asked the man who had approached us.

Tim explained that we were English travellers who had lost our companions, and that we were making our way across the country to the Saint John River.

They seemed perfectly satisfied with the account we gave of ourselves, as we judged by their changed manner. The black woman, getting up at once, made preparations for cooking some food, and afterwards suggested that Tim and I should lie down in the shade of the hut and rest. We gladly followed her advice; even Tim, poor fellow, now that his chief anxiety about me was over, appeared scarcely able to support himself on his feet. After we had thrown ourselves on the ground, the black woman, who had gone out, brought us each a bowl of goat’s milk, with which I felt wonderfully refreshed. Almost directly afterwards we fell asleep.

It was already evening when the blacks awoke us, and placed before us a mess of rice, pork, and bananas.

We slept soundly all night; and next morning, when I awoke, I felt quite a different creature to what I had been the day before. We thought it best not to inquire too minutely who our good hosts were, though we had little doubt that they were, as we at first supposed, runaway slaves. The first question we put was whether they had seen anything of our friends; to which they replied in the negative, and told us that we were still nearly a day’s journey from the river. One of them undertook to guide us to a part where he thought we might possibly find a canoe. If not, he advised that we should descend the stream on a raft, until we reached some settlers’ huts, which he told us we should come to in a few hours. He begged us, however, not to mention, on any account, having met with him and his companions. This we willingly promised. The blacks, unfortunately, could not supply us with powder and shot, the small quantity they possessed being barely sufficient for their own wants; but they offered to give us enough of food to last us for a couple of days.

As we found ourselves utterly unable to travel, we were thankful to accept of their invitation to remain with them until we had recovered our strength.

Chapter Ten.

We set off for the river—Appearance of the country—Arrival at the bank of the Saint John—A canoe discovered—Stopping leaks—A suggestion—Disturbed night—Our voyage commenced—River scenery—Provisions falling short—Fishing—Journey continued—Doubtful eggs—Ruined homestead—We secure some fruit—A supply of poultry—Deserted settlement—Sad effects of indian warfare—A dismal swamp—The Indian scout—A proof of hostility—Long rest—Our evening meal—Paddling on.

I had fortunately a few dollars, with which I was able to recompense our negro hosts, who seemed, however, to expect no reward. With the one who had undertaken to be our guide we set off at daybreak, in the hope of reaching the River Saint John before dark. Though we were both, as Tim said, “as thin as whipping-posts,” we felt sufficiently strong to undertake the journey, and the fatigues we were likely to encounter, until we could fall in with some craft to convey us down the river to Castle Kearney.

The forest through which we passed consisted chiefly of cabbage-palms and pines on the higher ground; but we saw marshes extending on either side, which our guide told us reached to the river. Had we possessed ammunition, we could have shot deer, for numerous herds crossed our path. We saw also a few wild-fowl. Our guide said that in the winter the marshes were full of them, and that any quantity might be shot in an hour. We caught sight also of a number of wild cattle; but they kept at a distance, as did the deer, both being equally afraid of man. Vegetation became more dense as, towards evening, we approached the long-looked-for river, so that we had some difficulty in making our way through the thickly-growing cabbage-palms, live-oak, and water-oak, hung with crimson and white air-plants, trumpet-flowers, wild-vines, and innumerable other parasites. Our guide, however, soon discovered a narrow path, by which he led us, or otherwise our progress would have been altogether stopped, and we should have had to turn back and make our way by a longer route. At length we saw an expanse of water glittering brightly between the trees.

“Dere is de riber, sah!” exclaimed our guide. “Now we see if we find canoe; him here not long ago.”

We hurried eagerly forward, until we stood on the margin of the river, as near to the water as the tall grass would allow us to get. Our guide searched up and down the stream, looking amid the grass and under every thick bush as a dog hunts for game. At length he shouted out, “Hurrah! me thought to find canoe.”

We made towards him. There, sure enough, carefully concealed among the brushwood, was a canoe capable of holding three or four persons, with several paddles inside it.

“But it may belong to others,” I observed, “and it may be of serious consequence to them on returning not to find it.”

“Sure we have a right to it, now it’s deserted by its owners,” observed Tim; “maybe they’ll never come back.”

“What do you say?” I asked of our guide.

“Take him, massa,” he answered; “me t’ink dose who come up in him neber go back.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because de Redskins take dem scalps, an’ dey all dead.”

“That settles the question,” said I. “But now let’s look at the canoe.”

On examining it, we found several ugly-looking cracks, which, had we launched it, would have admitted the water in an inconvenient manner. With other articles in the canoe, we discovered a small iron pot, which had evidently been used for boiling pitch. We were not long in tapping a pine-tree, and obtaining as much pitch as we required, with some gum the black collected.

We made up a fire on a mud-bank, left dry by the falling waters, from which we disturbed half-a-dozen alligators who had been taking their siesta on it. It required our united strength to get the canoe up to the spot, when, turning it up, we stopped the leaks in the best way we could. Having done so, we launched it, and found that it floated very well. The black suggested that we should supply ourselves with a quantity of pitch-pine-torches, which we would find useful should we wish to proceed by night, or to assist in keeping alligators and wild beasts at a distance. He and Tim soon procured an ample supply. As it was by this time almost dark, and too late to start, we agreed to sleep in the canoe alongside the bank. We proposed to have a fire burning all night, to keep the alligators at bay. The black declared there was no risk; but Tim and I, not being so confident on that point, resolved to keep watch, rather than trust to our black friend. As soon as supper was served, he threw himself down in the bottom of the canoe, and was soon fast asleep. It was providential that we did keep watch; for scarcely an hour had passed when a “’gator,” as Tim called it, swimming down the stream, was attracted by the smell of the remains of our supper, and, in spite of the fire, landed on the opposite side of the bank to which we were secured. Had we been all asleep, he would very likely have snapped up one of us. We shouted at the top of our voices, and threw fire-brands at his ugly face, which compelled him to retreat to his native element. He and his relatives kept up a horrible roar for several hours. We could hear their jaws clashing together as they snapped at their prey. Our shouts awoke the black, who, jumping up, very nearly tumbled overboard before he knew where he was.

“De ’gators no come here,” he said, when we told him what had made us cry out.

“Don’t they, my boy!” exclaimed Tim; “see! what’s that?”

At this moment a huge alligator shoved his snout above the surface, eyeing the canoe as if he should like to snap up it and us together. The black after this did not sleep as soundly as before; and Tim and I agreed that if the monsters abounded all down the river as they did near its head-waters, we should have a wakeful time of it.

Morning, however, came at last. Our guide was as anxious to return home as we were to proceed on our voyage. He again charged us before parting not to mention having met with him and his companions, thus convincing us of what we had before suspected, that they were runaway slaves. We should have been very ungrateful had we not given him the required assurances, agreeing that we would merely state the fact that we had found the canoe on the bank of the river, and that as, from the time it had been there, its owners were not likely to return, we had appropriated it.

The black, having wished us good-bye, commenced his journey through the forest; while we, shoving off from the bank, began to paddle down the sluggish stream. We kept in the centre, where the current appeared strongest, resolving to paddle all day so as to lose no time. Often our progress was stopped by immense quantities of water-lilies and other aquatic plants which spread over the stream; and in many places it was so shallow that we could touch the bottom with our paddles. Here the water was of a rich brown colour, in many places with a green scum on it, which so completely concealed the alligators moving beneath the surface that we ran against several of the monsters, the whisk of whose tails sent the water flying over us, and very nearly, on more than one occasion, upset the canoe. How we longed for ammunition to kill some of the water-fowl which rose from the sedgy shores! Sometimes our course led us through immense expanses of marsh covered with saw-grass, with here and there islands formed by uprooted trees, brushwood, and reeds matted together. In other places the vegetation which clothed both sides of the river was rich and beautiful in the extreme. Sometimes we found ourselves sweeping by the edge of a cypress swamp, huge trunks, or “knees,” as the distorted stems are called, projecting far into the water, and we had to keep a bright look-out not to run against them.

Though sleepy and tired enough, we agreed to paddle on all night, or as long as we could keep awake. Often the river was not fifty yards wide, sometimes much less; then it would expand into lakes two or three miles in width. I was under some apprehensions that should a storm suddenly arise while crossing them, we should be upset; but, as Tim observed, when I made a remark to this effect—

“It’s no use troubling ourselves about what might not happen. We will just trust in Providence, an’ do our best.”

The first night we lit one of our torches, and paddled on as long as we could keep our eyes open. During the time, we passed through another cypress swamp, when the light from the torch, as we twisted in and out among the stems of the trees, made them assume weird and strange forms; while the occasional cry of some night-bird or wild beast, coming sometimes from one side of us, sometimes from the other, had a very depressing effect, and I could have fancied, had I believed in the existence of such things, that the forest was the habitation of evil spirits or satyrs. I was thankful when we got clear of it, and managed to moor the canoe to a tree which grew close to the water. Here we landed and lighted a fire, to boil some porridge in a pot we had obtained from the blacks, and to heat up some cakes; for we had no animal food except a little salt pork and some dried fish, which we kept in case of being pushed to extremities.

Hitherto we had met with no white settlers, for those who had penetrated thus far south had established themselves mostly on the sea-board, where they were less likely to be annoyed by the Indians than on the river. We were not aware of this at the time, and were constantly on the look-out, in the hopes of coming in sight of the dwelling of some white man, from whom we naturally expected to receive a hospitable welcome. Tired as we were, Tim sat up one part of the night, and I the other, to keep the fire burning, so that we might preserve ourselves from being snapped up by one of our friends the alligators. The monsters roared as loudly as usual, and we could hear their jaws snapping and their tails whisking about in the water. It was far from pleasant music, but it did not keep me awake one moment after my watch was over.

We started, by the light of our fire, before daybreak, and continuing our course, entered at sunrise a broad lake, five or six miles in length. We were afraid that, as the sun rose, a strong breeze might spring up; and we could easily suppose how heavy a sea might in a few minutes be created. The weather, however, continued calm; and by dint of hard paddling we re-entered the narrow channel of the stream, down which we continued our course.

Two more days had passed. Our supply of provisions was exhausted, and we were compelled to stop and try to catch some fish. We were less successful than we expected; either the alligators had eaten them up, or the bait we used was not of an attractive nature. At length we caught a big fellow, which from its appearance we considered fit to eat, and soon had some slices roasting before a fire. There was no use in carrying any of it away, as a few hours afterwards it would have been unfit for food.

Some time afterwards, passing a sand-bank, Tim proposed landing to look after turtle eggs. “Hurrah! here they are by dozens,” he cried out; and he brought as many as he could carry. They looked to me unusually large for the eggs of the fresh-water turtle, but I did not wish to raise unpleasant doubts in his mind as to what they were. Hunger compelled us to cook some of them. They were certainly rather rank; but not until we had taken the edge off our appetites did I observe to him that perhaps they were crocodile eggs.

“Suppose they are,” said Tim, without being at all horrified; “I’d sooner eat them than their mother; but if I was hungry, and could get nothing else, I’d dine off her flesh with the greatest pleasure in the world.”

The banks now rose in some places several feet above the water, and were clothed with pine, live-oak, magnolia, laurel, and other trees. There were fewer marshes, and the country appeared more suitable for settlements than it did higher up. At last we came in sight, on the right bank, of a house surrounded by an orchard and a garden. No one waved to us, however, as we approached, and not a human being was to be seen. As we drew nearer we saw that the roof was gone, and that the orchard and garden were overrun with creepers and weeds. We landed and collected a supply of oranges and other fruit, which we found very refreshing. We were on the point of returning to the canoe, when I heard a cackling sound. It was that of some tame hens. We made our way to the spot from which it proceeded, where we found a hen-house and several fowls, with three nests of eggs, one of which contained eight or ten freshly laid, but on the other eggs the hens had been sitting for some time. This was indeed a godsend, for we could eat the eggs raw should we have no time to land and cook them. I secured the eggs.

“Sure it will be as well to have the birds too,” observed Tim. “They’ll keep alive, and we can kill and eat them as they’re wanted.”

Saying this, he caught four of the hens, and securing them by their legs, threw them over his shoulder, where they hung screaming and struggling.

“I am afraid these will betray us, should any Indians be near,” I observed.

“They’ll be quite aisy soon,” answered Tim. “They’ve got sense enough to know it’s of no use makin’ a fuss when they cannot help themselves.”

Fortunately Tim found some corn in an out-house, the door of which had been closed, so that the hens had been unable to get at it. We filled a basket full, to serve as food for the fowls, as well as for ourselves should we be hard pressed. The rest of the hens had, in the meantime, made their escape.

As we were unwilling longer to delay, we returned with our prizes to the canoe. Though the eggs were little more than sufficient for a single meal, the birds, if we could keep them alive, would last us for four days.

Soon after this we came to another settlement, but were again disappointed. The blackened walls of the houses alone remained. We again landed, but had not wandered far when we came upon the dead body of a man. It was too clear how he had been slain; the Indians had done the deed—he was scalped. Others lay dead within the walls, all of whom had been treated in the same manner. We shouted, but no voice replied. We hurried from the spot, filled with apprehensions. The reports we had heard were now fully corroborated. The red men had raised the standard of revolt against the pale-faced intruders, as they called the whites. We were in great doubt as to what might have been the fate of our friends. All this time we had found no traces of Carlos and Lejoillie. Still we could not but suppose that they had long ago made their way down the river, and we hoped that they had arrived at Castle Kearney long ago.

Evening was approaching. We were again passing through a cypress swamp, which extended on both sides of the river. Knotted and twisted trunks projected far into the stream; the tall stems of trees rose high above our heads; while here and there the rays of the sun, penetrating a short way into the forest, and falling on the lower parts of the trunks, the huge roots, and the enormous creepers suspended from the boughs, served to render the rest of the forest more dark and gloomy. Now and then a vulture croaked at us as we passed; and we could see huge snakes twisting and wriggling among the trunks in search of prey.

We were approaching the right bank, to cut off a bend of the river, when Tim exclaimed—

“Look there, Mr Maurice! I saw some one moving. Yes, sure enough, there’s a Redskin; and he has a rifle in his hand.”

I looked in the direction to which Tim pointed. There, indeed, was an Indian, in war-paint and feathers, cautiously making his way amid the tangled roots.

“Better show him our rifles, Mr Maurice,” observed Tim; “he won’t be afther suspecting that they’re not loaded, an’ it will prevent him playin’ us a scurvy trick, which he’ll do, if he can.”

I lifted up my rifle, as Tim also did his, while with a turn of my paddle I steered the canoe away from the shore. Whether he had been on the watch for us or not we could not tell. Fast as we paddled, he made his way almost as rapidly through the swamp, and it soon became evident that his object was to keep up with us. Replacing our rifles at the bottom of the canoe, we took the paddles in both hands, and thus increasing our speed, had hopes of distancing him. Should he, however, reach level ground he might soon overtake us.

Ere long we were convinced that his object was hostile, for a bullet whistled close to my head. Night was approaching, and perhaps he thought we should escape him in the darkness, and so he endeavoured to put a stop to our progress. If so, he was mistaken, for we managed to keep down the centre of the stream, paddling with might and main. We incurred the danger, we knew, of running against a floating log or a snag, or sticking fast on a shallow; but it was better to run these risks than be shot by Indians, for although we had only seen one there might be dozens of them. It became more and more evident that the red men had revolted against the whites. Perhaps the man who was following us was one of those who had murdered the settlers in the houses we had stopped at, and had seen us at a distance.

When morning broke we found that the river had greatly widened, and we had every reason to believe that we had distanced our pursuer. Still, it would probably narrow again, and should any Indians possessed of canoes perceive us they might put off in chase.

After our long paddle during the night we both required sleep, but thought it imprudent to land, lest we should be surprised. We therefore agreed that one should lie down at a time, while the other guided the canoe. The eggs and fruit we had brought supplied us with food, so that we had not to land to obtain any. Tim insisted on my lying down first; and just before I closed my eyes I saw him sitting bolt upright, and as grave as a judge, with deliberate strokes moving his paddle from one side to the other.

I was surprised to find, when I awoke, how low the sun had sunk. The faithful fellow declared that he had not the heart to awake me—that I wanted sleep more than he did. He then lay down, but insisted that I should call him at sunset, as two pair of eyes would then be required.

I waited until the last moment, when I could no longer see my way, and then I roused Tim. He instantly jumped up, and seizing his paddle, began to work away with all his might, as if he thought we had a fleet of Indian canoes astern of us. At last, feeling very hungry, I begged him to stop. Having eaten the last of our eggs and a few oranges, we paddled on, intending to continue our course throughout the night.

Chapter Eleven.

Fancy and fatigue—Toil and privation—We land—Danger of lighting a fire—A hasty meal interrupted—Alarm of Indians—Making down the stream—White men—A welcome meeting—Startling intelligence—Object of the expedition—Suspicion against Rochford—Judge Shurtleff’s opinion—Landing—Preparing to advance—Tim receives an appointment—The march commenced—Useful allies—A trying journey—Our first halt—The hunting party—A strange meeting—“Spotted Wolf”—Movements of the Indians—Anxiety about my father—Doubts about our Indian friend—A narrow escape—Stabbed in the hummock.

I had been paddling on for some time in a half dreamy state, for fatigue was beginning to tell on me more than on Tim, and I could with difficulty at times keep my eyes open. Though I managed to move my paddle mechanically, I was more asleep than awake. All sorts of strange fancies flitted across my mind, and often I saw objects before me which had no existence in reality. Now a party of Indians, in their war-paint and feathers, would appear on the bank, a bright light making them stand out in bold relief against the forest. Now in imagination I saw a huge snake wriggling across the water; or a puma would show itself among the trees, ready to spring upon us as we passed. Often I heard strange cries and the sound of human voices; then I fancied that I saw a canoe stealing out from a dark creek, about to intercept us. I tried to exert myself, but my arms refused to obey my will.

“Arrah now, Mr Maurice dear, you’d better lie down in the bottom of the boat an’ take a quiet sleep for an hour or two,” exclaimed Tim, who discovered the condition I was in just in time to prevent me letting go my paddle, which the next instant would probably have fallen from my grasp.

His voice aroused me. “I can still paddle on,” I answered; “though my arms ache a little, to be sure.”

“No, no; just lie down, an’ I’ll keep the canoe moving,” said Tim. “I’ve been more accustomed to work than you have, Mr Maurice, and I can stand it better. You’ll be afther knockin’ yourself up altogether; an’ we have many a mile to go yet before we reach Castle Kearney.”

I felt, however, that it was food more than rest which I just then wanted. The pangs of hunger I was enduring convinced me of this. We had, however, only our live fowls remaining, with a few oranges and some grain; but the fowls could not be eaten raw, and the grain required to be pounded and made into cakes before we could swallow it. I therefore proposed that we should land on the first spot we could find clear of trees and brushwood, and cook one of the fowls and make some cakes. To this Tim agreed. Before long, projecting from below the trunk of a large tree, we discovered a bank composed of roots and driftwood, with mud washed over them. There was space enough to light a fire, so we at once landed. While I was engaged in collecting sticks for the fire, Tim wrung the neck of one of our fowls and quickly plucked it. He then cut the bird in two and stuck it up before the fire, as the quickest way of cooking it. We could not afford to be particular. Instead of making cakes, we put on some of the grain to boil in our pot, for we could not stop to bruise and bake it. We were aware that it was imprudent even to light a fire, lest it might attract the notice of any enemies prowling in the neighbourhood; but our hunger overcame all other considerations, and we hoped that as we should soon again be moving on there would be no great risk in what we were doing. I own that I ravenously ate up my share of the fowl, even before it was cooked through; but having been put on while still warm, it was less tough than might have been expected. The boiled grain was far from palatable.

“Sure it will do to fill up any holes which the old hen has left in our stomachs, and I have a notion there are not a few of them,” observed Tim, as he began to bolt down the hot porridge.

We were thus employed, when Tim exclaimed, “Hist, Mr Maurice, did you hear a sound?”

I listened. “Yes; I should fancy that an alligator had popped his head above the surface, or a tortoise or wild-fowl had jumped into the river to take a bath.”

“Sure I thought it was paddles I heard. Listen again,” said Tim.

“Yes, it is paddles; no doubt about the matter,” he exclaimed directly afterwards; and stepping into the canoe he cast off the painter, while he held her fast to some roots with one hand, adding, “Get in, Mr Maurice, get in; the sooner we are away from this the better. The Redskins—for sure it must be them—will make towards the fire, and, if they haven’t yet seen us, they’ll be puzzled to know where we have gone to.”

Seizing my gun, which lay on the ground by my side, for from force of habit I had carried it with me when I had landed, I stepped carefully back into the canoe. Immediately I had taken my seat, Tim shoved her off as far out into the stream as he could, then grasping his paddle, began to ply it with might and main.

“Stop!” I whispered, after we had got a little distance. “In what direction did you fancy you heard the sounds? It appears to me that they are coming up the river instead of down.”

“Sure, you’re right, Mr Maurice,” answered Tim, who had ceased paddling. “I see the canoe too, an’ a big one she is; she’s full of savages. We may get over to the shadow of the opposite bank, an’ they’ll not perceive us. Use the paddle gently though, so as to make as little noise as possible.”

While working away as he advised, I kept my eye down the stream, looking out for the canoe, which Tim fancied he had seen. Before long I also perceived it; indeed, it looked so high out of the water that I was convinced it was of much larger size than the ordinary Indian canoes. It was being directed towards the fire which we had left only a few minutes before; those on board being naturally anxious to see who were encamped there.

We had got over by this time to the opposite shore, and, as far as I could judge, had escaped observation; so that we could easily, by keeping under the shadow of the trees, paddle down the stream. But as I again looked towards the boat, I was convinced that she was of large size, and full of white men.

Remaining perfectly quiet, before long we heard their voices. There was no doubt that they were whites; perhaps our friends coming to look for us. Tim was at length satisfied that I was right. We forthwith paddled back. To prevent any one mistaking us for Indians, and sending a chance shot at us, I hailed, “Who are you, friends?”

“Why, that must be Maurice! Hurrah! he’s not lost, then,” I heard a voice exclaim, which I recognised as that of Carlos; and directly afterwards Lejoillie shouted out—

“Glad to see you alive. Come here!”

We were soon alongside; and Tim making the canoe fast, he and I stepped on board the boat. We found that she was a long, large craft pulling ten oars, and holding between thirty and forty men, all well-armed. Among them were three blacks, two of whom I had seen at the judge’s; and I remembered the intense admiration they had shown for Rochford, when in their presence he had expressed his liberal opinions, such as they were very unlikely ever before to have heard.

The first person who grasped my hand was my father.

“Maurice, my boy, thank Heaven you have come back,” he said. “I was very anxious about you, as were all your friends; for we were afraid that you had fallen into the hands of those rascally Redskins, and that they had treated you and Tim as they have so many other white people.”

I briefly told him how I had lost my way, and was found by Tim; how we had at length reached the river, and obtaining a canoe, got down thus far homewards. I mentioned also our having seen an Indian, who had pursued us along the bank for some distance. I then, turning to Lejoillie and Carlos, inquired how they had made their escape.

Lejoillie replied that, having searched in vain for us, they had reached the stream, and fortunately discovered a canoe, as we had done. Just as they were about to push off, a band of Indians had pursued them; and this had naturally given rise to the supposition that we had been cut off by the Redskins. Having a supply of ammunition, they had been able to obtain as much food as they required; and there being three people to paddle the canoe, they had come down the river more rapidly than we had been able to do, moving on night and day, one of them only sleeping at a time.

“Then were you coming to look for Tim and me?” I asked.

“No,” answered Carlos; “we thought you must either have made your way long ago to one of the forts, or been captured and killed by the Indians. When I got back, I found those at home in a fearful state of grief and anxiety about Juanita. She has disappeared, and been carried off by some one. Suspicion strongly turns against that fellow Rochford, who came with Lejoillie to our house. She and Rita, and two black servants, had ridden out a short distance only from Castle Kearney, when Juanita suddenly exclaimed that she would canter on ahead of them. Before they could advise her not to go, she was off, and was soon hidden from sight. They rode forward, expecting her every instant to reappear; but when they reached a more open part of the forest, she was nowhere visible. Nor could they discover any traces of her horse’s hoofs—probably because they did not look for them in the right place. I think that I should have found them had I been there. In vain they shouted and galloped about in all directions. From that day to this nothing has been heard of her. There can be no doubt, however, that she must have been carried off, as Rita is confident she would not have gone of her own accord. But whether Rochford or Indians are guilty of the deed is still a matter of doubt. I decidedly believe that Rochford has had a hand in it. I never felt very cordial towards him from the first, though you seemed to fancy him a very fine fellow, with his wild notions of getting freedom for the blacks, and giving the Redskins their rights; but I believe there’s nothing he would stick at. Uncle Michael and Captain Norton blame themselves greatly. They and my father lost no time in organising a plan for recovering my poor sister, and punishing Rochford, or any one else who may be found guilty. They took Judge Shurtleff into their counsels: he stuck out, however, to the last that Rochford was innocent; and told them that he had information that a band of Indians had been in the neighbourhood, and had retreated up the left bank of the river. He advised that one party should proceed in this direction by water, and then landing, proceed west—so as to prevent the Indians making their way farther south—to reunite with another party moving west, of which my father was to take charge. They were then to come down south, so as to be able to follow up the marauders should they turn back again, or try to escape westward.”

Carlos gave further explanations of the proposed plan of proceedings. I at once became as eager as any one to carry them out; though a short time before I had felt so wearied that I could scarcely use my paddle, I now declared that I was ready to begin the march as soon as it was settled we should land. I found that the point fixed upon was only a mile or two farther up the river. Had we been a little later we should probably have missed our friends altogether. The boat did not stop at the place where we had lighted our fire, which was allowed to continue burning, to assist in deceiving any Indians who might be in the neighbourhood. From the reports we had heard, we were well aware that those we were likely to meet with would prove unfriendly, if not open enemies, and that we should have to be cautious in our proceedings.

For some time I was kept awake by having to talk and listen to my friends; but at length my head began to nod.

“Just lean back, and make yourself comfortable,” said my father.

I followed his advice, and was soon fast asleep. I was awakened by feeling the boat run against the bank, and I found that we were about to land. Dawn had just broken, and I could see the dark outlines of the trees on the opposite side of the river against the brightening sky. A crew of four hands were left in the boat, and charged to navigate her back to Castle Kearney. They were provided with arms, and were directed to allow no Indian canoe to come alongside on any pretext whatever. I found that we now mustered thirty-six men, including Tim and myself. It was, after all, but a small party should we encounter any large band of Indians, who were not likely to attack us unless far superior to us in force. Still, we possessed good rifles and plenty of ammunition, so that we considered ourselves a match for three times our own number of natives, many of whom were likely to be armed only with bows and arrows, or should they have guns, with those of an inferior character. Twenty of our party were soldiers under Captain Norton’s command, the others were volunteers. We had a few of my uncle’s people, and the rest came from Roseville. As the Indians would probably not have expected so many white men to come up the river, we had hopes of taking them by surprise.

Captain Norton, my father, and Tim were the only old soldiers among us; for even the regulars had had no experience of warfare. Tim, therefore, found himself raised to the rank of third in command, the scouts being placed under his orders—an honourable though dangerous appointment.

We remained only sufficient time to enable the men to eat what may be called a breakfast, to strap on their knapsacks, and get themselves into marching trim, when the order to advance was given; and Tim and his scouts, six of the most active men, went ahead, having received instructions never to get beyond hailing distance of each other, or get too much in advance to be prevented from falling back quickly on the main body. After going some distance, we marched across a pine-barren, with a marsh on our left, over which Indians could scarcely make their way, while here and there on our right were hummocks, thick bottoms in which a whole army of natives might have concealed themselves. Our friends, I should have said, had brought half-a-dozen of the large blood-hounds I have before described, which were used for hunting ocelots and other fierce game, as well as for searching out runaway negroes. These were likely to prove of the greatest service in exploring the hummocks, as they would quickly give tongue on discovering any lurking enemies. We felt pretty sure, therefore, that we had no foes on our right, or that we had left any behind us. Our great object, however, was to find some Indians who could give us information either of Juanita or Rochford; whether they were together, or whether either one or the other had been seen. From what I had heard of the Indians, I had very little hope of success.

We marched on all day, frequently, however, in consequence of the nature of the ground, making but slow progress. We could carry, of course, but a small quantity of provisions, chiefly flour, coffee, pepper, and salt, so that we depended on our guns for supplying ourselves with game. It might have been better had we been able to be independent of hunting, as we ran a risk of being separated, and falling into the hands of our enemies, should any be on the watch to cut us off.

We had now to cross an extensive tract of prairie land, which covers a large portion of the interior of the country north of the Everglades. I have already described its unpleasant character. The sun struck down on our heads with intense force, there being few trees to afford us shade. Our legs were torn by the sharp teeth of the palmetto; and the only water we could obtain was from stagnant pools fringed with tall saw-grass, through which it was difficult to penetrate to get to the water, such as it was. Sometimes, after a great deal of trouble, and at the risk of being snapped up by an alligator, we found the water brackish and utterly undrinkable. Occasionally we came upon pine-islands, slight sandy elevations above the prairie covered by tall pine-trees. We here got the benefit of shade, but no water was to be obtained near them. We had one advantage, however, in crossing the prairie: no enemies in any number could find concealment to burst out suddenly upon us, as we knew they might well do where the country was thickly wooded. While crossing the prairie we saw no four-footed game, nor even any of the wild cattle which we had expected to find there. The opinion was that they had been driven off by the Indians.

We had made but slow progress; for owing to those abominable saw-palmetto roots, we could seldom march more than two miles an hour. At length, darkness approaching, we were compelled to camp on a pine-island. It was the best spot we could select, as we could hold it, should we be attacked during the night, against any number of Indians. We had, however, to content ourselves with but a short allowance of water, which we had brought from the last pool. We had, however, killed several ducks and plovers, and three large snowy herons, which the men ate in spite of their rank taste. We, of course, placed sentries on the watch, and sent out several scouts, accompanied by blood-hounds, who, we knew, would not fail to discover any Indians lurking in the neighbourhood. The most experienced backwoodsman of our party had examined the ground as we came along in search of Indian trails, but none of recent date had been perceived. We were aware, however, that the natives might, if they were so disposed, easily pass us on their way to the south, where, among the impenetrable woods of the Everglades, they might set us at defiance. Our great object, therefore, was to find an Indian who, either from a friendly disposition towards the whites, or from being ready to receive a bribe, would act as our guide, and bring us information as to where those we were in search of were to be found.

As my father, Captain Norton, Lejoillie, Carlos, and I sat round our camp-fire eating our frugal supper, we anxiously discussed the probabilities of recovering Juanita. Carlos spoke very strongly on the subject. He regretted that he had not been at home when his sister disappeared, as he would, he declared, have collected every man capable of bearing arms in the neighbourhood, and at once proceeded with a strong force in pursuit. He still adhered to the belief that Rochford had carried her off, aided by a strong band of Indians.

“We shall hear of him before long acting as Powell’s lieutenant, or perhaps raised to the chief command himself!” he exclaimed.

“I do not think that,” observed Lejoillie. “He is very enthusiastic, and considers that the Indians have been ill-treated; but I do not believe that he would wish them to resort to force to enable them to obtain their rights. He spoke of going among them only for the purpose of giving them good advice, or trying to induce them to adopt the customs of civilisation.”

I corroborated what Lejoillie said, as did my father. Captain Norton expressed the hope that we were right, though he had not had sufficient intercourse with his cousin to judge of his opinions.

I need not say I was very glad to roll myself in my blanket as soon as supper was over, and to fall fast asleep. I should, I believe, have slept on far into the next day, had I not been aroused by my father, who handed me a mug of coffee, some wild duck, and corn-cake for breakfast. Directly afterwards, the march was resumed. We were unable to obtain any game during the first part of the day, and were truly glad when, in the afternoon, we came in sight of the thickly-growing trees of an extensive hummock. As it was important to obtain food, the men were halted at some distance from its border, while my father, Lejoillie, and I, with Tim and three or four of the best shots of the party, made our way as best we could amid the dense brushwood, in the hopes of getting a shot at some deer or any other game which might be taking shelter there. Pushing on through hydrangeas and azaleas, with lofty cabbage-palms, cotton, cedar, and other trees above our heads, festooned with wild-vines, convolvuli, air-plants, and numberless other creepers, Tim and I, who were ahead, at length saw before us a small pool.

“Hist, Mr Maurice!” he whispered; “I jist caught sight of something moving. We must creep up carefully. Maybe it’s a painter, or an ocelot, or, what would be better, a deer; an’ if we can escape the creature windin’ us, we may git up near enough to have a fair shot, for it won’t be you or I that’ll be afther missin’.”

I followed his advice, eager to obtain the game, and trusting none of our party would approach incautiously. In the meantime, by creeping slowly on, we at length came close to the pool, which was almost filled up with grass and water-lilies. Lifting up our heads, to our infinite satisfaction, we saw a doe and her young one standing in the water, into which they had evidently gone to drink. At the same moment a heron, with a loud cry, rose from the sedgy banks; and the deer, as if its note had been one of warning, turned her head towards where we were.

“Fire at the mother,” I whispered to Tim; “I’ll take the fawn.”

We pulled our triggers, and almost at the same moment a third shot was heard at a distance; a bullet splashing the water close to where the deer stood, but hitting neither of the animals.

Both deer fell, however, struggling in the water. We rushed forward to secure our prey. Having put them out of suffering, I carried the fawn to a dry spot, and Tim followed with the deer, which was as much as he could well stagger under. While we were looking about for a long pole by which we might suspend the animals, so as to carry them with greater ease to the camp, we heard a rustling sound made by some person or animal approaching. We, of course, had both reloaded our rifles, but fully expected to see one of our party, attracted to the spot by our shots. Our surprise, therefore, was great to see instead, standing close to us, an Indian in the usual light hunting costume worn by his people, composed of skins embroidered in the ordinary fashion. His face, however, was painted in a way which gave him a far from prepossessing expression.

“Who are you, Mr Redface?” asked Tim, instinctively handling his rifle ready for action.

“A friend!” answered the Indian. “You come kill my deer. What you want here?”

“Arrah, sure, do you call it your deer?” asked Tim. “A deer in this country belongs to the man who kills it, I’ve a notion; and it was not your bullet which brought either of the animals to the ground. Mr Maurice here kilt one, and I the other; an’ your bit of lead tumbled into the water, a foot away at least from either of them. Sure, if ye’ll be afther lookin’ for it, you’ll find it in the mud.”

“Ugh!” ejaculated the Indian, who saw that he was not likely to get much change out of Tim, and knew from the distance he had fired that his aim was uncertain. “Where are your people?”

“Come along, and you shall see,” said Tim; “they’ll be glad to have a talk with you about some matters, and you’ll find it to your advantage to tell them what you know.”

The Indian understood probably only a part of what Tim said, but nodding, he said, “Spotted Wolf will go with you.”

“Oh, is that your name? Come along, then, Mr Spotted Wolf; we’ll take care no harm happens to you.”

The Indian laughed scornfully, as if he considered that he could take very good care of himself; and as by this time we had hung the deer to the pole, Tim told him we were ready to move. “I’ll trouble ye, however, Mr Spotted Wolf, to lead on ahead; you know the way out of this hummock, maybe, better than we do. An’ see that you lead us right, if ye please.”

He then turned to me, and in a lower voice said,—“It’s as well to keep this sort of gentleman in front, or maybe he’ll be afther shootin’ one of us, an’ stickin’ his scalping-knife into the other.”

The Indian, no ways displeased by the evident want of confidence placed in him, led the way, and managed to pick out a path with fewer obstructions than the one by which we had entered the hummock. As we came in sight of the camp he hesitated for a moment, perhaps surprised at seeing many more people than he might have expected. It is possible that he would have been welcomed by half-a-dozen rifle shots had we not appeared close behind him. Our friends were highly pleased at seeing the game which we brought. Just then Lejoillie arrived, bringing three fat gobblers, some smaller birds, and a racoon, which he and the men attending him had shot. My father, who had only one companion, had not yet returned. I could not help fearing that he might have fallen in with some other Indians, who might not have behaved in so pacific a manner as Spotted Wolf. I at once took the Indian up to Captain Norton, who rose to receive him, and being well accustomed to the habits of the Redskins, desired him to be seated on the ground near the camp-fire. The fact that Spotted Wolf spoke English showed that he had had frequent intercourse with the white men.

Captain Norton at once began questioning him as to whether he was alone, or had few or many companions.

He declared that he was alone; that he had separated from his countrymen, as he did not approve of their making war on the Palefaces, who, he knew, must conquer at last. At the same time, while making this acknowledgment, he described the army of Oceola as very large, consisting of numerous warriors, well-armed, and with abundance of ammunition.

Captain Norton inquired if he knew where they were. He replied that they were now some distance away to the west, waiting for reinforcements from the Cherokees and Creeks. Whether Spotted Wolf was giving a true account or not, it was impossible to ascertain. He was consistent in all he said, and maintained a calm and unembarrassed manner. I was little accustomed to the countenances of Indians, who looked to me very nearly all alike, but I certainly did not admire the expression of that of Spotted Wolf; and I found that Carlos had formed a bad opinion of him. He sat on in the ordinary inelegant position which Indians maintain round a council fire, deliberately smoking a pipe of tobacco which the captain had presented to him.

Captain Norton had hitherto said nothing about Juanita or Rochford. He hoped apparently that, should the Indian know anything of them, he would himself introduce the subject. At last he was obliged to ask Spotted Wolf whether he had seen a Paleface girl and a young man in company with the Indians, either together, or separately, or had heard of them.

“I have not seen any Palefaces such as you describe, nor have I heard of them,” answered Spotted Wolf positively; or, at all events, he gave us to understand as much, for I cannot exactly describe the language in which he spoke.

“Can you, however, serve us by learning whether such persons as I mention are in this part of the country?” asked Captain Norton. “Though you may not have heard of them, your friends may, and you can bring us the information we require.”

The Indian, resting his chin on his hand, appeared to consider what had been said. He then replied that he would, if it were the wish of his Paleface brother, endeavour to gain tidings of the girl, although, as there were many of his people who looked upon him as an enemy, he might have great difficulty in accomplishing his object.

“Spotted Wolf will do his best, and look for his reward,” answered Captain Norton; “we can expect no more.”

The Indian gave the usual “Ugh,” signifying that he fully understood what was required of him.

I had been all the time on the look-out for the return of my father. The sun had just set, and darkness was rapidly coming on. I went outside the camp in the direction whence I thought he would appear. Nowhere was he to be seen. I resolved, therefore, to go in search of him. Carlos and Lejoillie agreed to go also, and several others volunteered to accompany us. Captain Norton said that he would be glad to go, but he could not venture to leave the camp. He told me that although Spotted Wolf might be a very honest fellow, he would have a strict watch kept upon him; and, in case any other Indians should appear, he would not allow them to enter the camp.

On this occasion we took two of the dogs, which had been kept tied up until now, lest they should disturb the game in the hummock. They ran on before us with their noses to the ground, clearly understanding what was required of them. They were well acquainted with my father, and the man who had accompanied him, so that we had no fear of their attacking them. On they went towards the western end of the hummock. Instead of rushing into it, as we expected, they kept along the edge. Presently we heard them give tongue, and hurrying forward, we saw a person issuing from the thick brushwood, accompanied by the two dogs. On getting nearer to him, I discovered, to my joy, that he was my father. He seemed more than usually agitated, and when I inquired the cause, he told me that he had been separated from his companion, whom, after some time, he had found dead on the ground, stabbed apparently, but not scalped, so that he was in doubt whether an Indian had done the deed. Anxious, however, about his own safety, he was endeavouring to make his way out of the hummock, when he caught sight, in the distance, of several figures moving among the trees, which, though indistinctly seen, he was convinced were those of Indians. He concealed himself at once, and had reason to believe that he was not detected, but had been unable to make his way out, until the hounds had found him, not being aware how close he was to the edge of the hummock. How he had escaped from the Redskins it was difficult to say. Some of the party proposed at once to go in search of the body of the murdered man; but though we might possibly have found it, with the assistance of the dogs, in daylight, it would have been almost impossible to do so in the dark. We therefore agreed to return to the camp, and made the best of our way back, where the news we brought created no little sensation. Some suspected that Spotted Wolf was not altogether unacquainted with the circumstance. Carlos declared that he should not be surprised had the Indian himself killed the man; but on comparing the time we had met him with that when my father believed the murder to have been committed, we decided that Spotted Wolf must be acquitted of the charge.

In consequence of what had occurred, a double watch was set, and all sentinels were charged to keep wide awake, so that during the night we might not be taken by surprise.

Chapter Twelve.

Deserters—Carlos’s opinion of Spotted Wolf—The march continued—Halt—The hunting party—Decoying deer—Runaway horses—A capture—Proofs of an Indian battle—Scene of a massacre—Our plans altered—Scouting—The survivors—Details of the tragedy—Forward—The abandoned fort—We garrison the block-house—Strengthening our position—Reports of the scouts—Scarcity of provisions—An expedition to obtain relief—A disappointment—The strange hunter—A surprise—An angry meeting—The explanation—In the wrong—Preparing for the attack.

The night passed quietly away, notwithstanding the very natural apprehension we had entertained that the Indians my father had seen would attack us. One circumstance, however, caused us considerable astonishment and anxiety. In spite of the vigilant watch supposed to have been kept, two of our black companions had disappeared; and we could find no trail to indicate in what direction they had gone, nor how they could have managed to get out of the camp without being observed. No one, however, recollected exactly when they were last seen; and it was generally believed they had gone off in the evening, when the party had set out to search for my father. Could they have had any communication with the Redskins hovering about our camp? This was not considered probable. It occurred to me, however, that they might have known of the blacks who had treated us so hospitably, and that they had gone off under the idea that they could reach them, or some other party of negro runaways, several of whom had long been living among the impenetrable jungles of the south. It was generally supposed, however, that the Indians, knowing the strength of our party, would not dare to interfere with us, and that we might be able to recover the body of the poor fellow who had been murdered. Captain Norton, however, would not allow search to be made for it, as the risk, he considered, would be far greater than any advantage to be gained. We therefore marched forward, as on the previous day.

“There’s one of our number gone,” observed Carlos gloomily; “how many more will be lost before we return home?”

We had grave suspicions of Spotted Wolf. When asked whether he knew anything of the Indians who had been seen by my father in the hummock, he declared that they must have been some who had followed him when he was making his escape, but that he was not aware that they had reached the hummock.

“That may or may not be the case,” observed Carlos; “but I would advise Captain Norton to keep a look-out on the fellow’s movements. I suspect his object is rather to betray us than to render us assistance.”

The Indian, however, seemed perfectly at ease, and as far as his knowledge of English would allow, conversed freely with every one. He was asked if he knew whereabouts Oceola was to be found. He replied that he was ignorant of that chief’s movements, but he acknowledged that he might possibly not be far off. Though our scouts ranged on every side, as well as ahead, and sometimes dropped behind, they failed to catch sight of the Indians, who, however, we knew, would, in all probability, keep near us, waiting for an opportunity to attack us, should they find us off our guard. It was not altogether a pleasant feeling to know that at any moment we might be assailed by a band of savages eager to take our scalps; but by degrees we got accustomed to the feeling, and there was nothing we so much desired as to catch sight of our supposed enemies, being certain that we should beat them off, however numerous they might be.

I have already so fully described the country, that I need not draw any further pictures of it. Our course led us sometimes over the prairie, covered with low saw-palmetto and grass; sometimes over the pine-lands, by the side of ponds; occasionally along the edges of the belts of forest, chiefly composed of pines and cabbage-palms; and then near hummocks, which, as they were mostly impenetrable jungles, we carefully avoided, except when it became necessary to halt to obtain food for our party. We then sent in the dogs, to ascertain if an enemy were concealed in the jungle. Spotted Wolf, who invariably marched ahead with the captain, kept his eyes ranging over the ground in search of any trail which might serve to point out in what direction parties of his countrymen had gone. But though he did this, I saw how easily he might deceive us; for though he might see trails, he might not communicate his discovery.

We again halted for the night among a clump of pine-trees, with a stream near us, a pond on one side, and a hummock at a little distance. The hummock might conceal a foe; but as the Indians could not possibly know that we should halt in this neighbourhood, it was not likely that they would have laid an ambush there.

We had run short of provisions, and were anxious to shoot some deer; indeed, it was absolutely necessary to obtain food at all risks. We waited therefore until dark, when, the main body being encamped, with sentries on the watch, my father, Tim, and I, with four of our best shots, proceeded to the edge of the hummock. We were, each of us, supplied with pine-torches secured to sticks which could be run into the ground. We advanced cautiously to the spots we had selected, some hundred feet apart, when, having stuck our torches in the ground, and lit them, we lay down just in front, concealed either by a low bush or by some grass. Thus we remained perfectly invisible, while the light passed over our heads. Tim and I were near enough to see each other’s torches. While I lay crouched down, the thought occurred to me that should by chance any Indians be hidden in the hummock, they would know exactly where to find each of us, and creeping cautiously up, would try to kill and scalp us separately. I therefore kept my ears well open and my senses fully awake, to be ready for any emergency. I had not long, however, to endure these unpleasant apprehensions, when I heard a slight rustling, and presently caught sight of two faint lights just before me. They were large and round, and I knew that they were the eyes of a deer, in which the blaze from the pine-torch was reflected. The animal stood quite still, and I had time to raise my rifle, and to aim between the lights. I fired, and a large deer bounded into the air, and fell close to me with scarcely a struggle. Almost at the same time I heard Tim fire. I at once reloaded, and jumping up extinguished the torch, and began dragging my prize into the open. While thus employed, two other shots from the farther extremities of the hummock reached my ears, and I hoped that our party had bagged three more deer at least. The animal I had shot was too heavy to carry, but I managed, notwithstanding, to drag it over the rough ground. I had not gone far when I was joined by Tim, who exclaimed—

“Arrah! sure, I thought I had kilt a deer, but it’s only a beast of a grey wolf. However, it will serve to feed the dogs; and I hope your father and the rest will each have knocked over a deer.”

I asked Tim to leave the wolf and assist me in carrying the deer into camp. This he did, and we got on very well. He was so vexed, however, that he declared he must have another trial, as in a short time the deer, which had been startled by our shots, would recover from their alarm, and very likely return to the spot. Telling one of the men whereabouts the wolf lay, he set off with a fresh pine-torch. In the meantime my father and his companions returned with a couple of deer. So hungry had the party become that no time was lost in kindling fires, which had not before been done, and putting on the venison to roast. The deer we had killed were not more than sufficient for a couple of meals to each man, and Tim was hailed with considerable satisfaction, when later in the night he returned with a fourth one. We had no longer any fears as to the hummock concealing Indians, as they would certainly have shown themselves long before this. A careful watch, however, was kept during the night. Some of the party proposed scouring the hummock, to obtain a larger supply of venison, or any other game we could shoot; but Captain Norton would not consent to this.

Next morning, having breakfasted on venison, with some wild duck which the keenest of our sportsmen had killed at sunrise, we recommenced our march. Spotted Wolf shortly afterwards intimated that if we would proceed farther west, he might probably obtain information regarding those of whom we were in search. There were a few lodges of his people, connected to him by ties of blood, who, being peaceably disposed, had declined to join Oceola and the other rebel chiefs. “They, of necessity,” he said, “keep themselves well informed of what is going forward in other parts of the country, that they may make their escape should the rebels attempt to compel them to join their party.”

Carlos doubted the truth of this statement; but Captain Norton appeared to believe it, or, at all events, allowed Spotted Wolf to think so. If Oceola had really carried off Juanita, his object, no doubt, would be to place her somewhere in safety, under the charge of the female members of his family, so that she would be unable to escape herself, or obtain the assistance of her friends. He could scarcely have expected that a force like ours would so soon have been despatched in pursuit. Carlos, however, persisted in declaring that the Indian chief had had nothing to do with the matter, and that Rochford alone had, somehow or other, obtained the means of carrying her off.

We had been marching on for some hours across a pine-barren, with the sun beating down on our heads, and were anxiously looking out for a stream or pool at which we could quench our thirst, Carlos and I being together, when an object was seen moving across the plain towards us. It was soon made out to be a horse.

“It is riderless,” observed Carlos.

“Can it be a wild one?” I asked.

“Not from its movements, I am nearly sure. And see! it has a saddle on its back,” he replied.

Presently another and another appeared, coming from the same direction. Carlos and I, with several of the men, rushed forward to catch the animals. Two of those which brought up the rear came on at a slower pace than the rest. They were wounded, and as we got nearer we perceived an arrow sticking in the side of one of them; a bullet had gone through the neck of another, which had also had a spear thrust into its shoulder; while three of the others had blood on their saddles, and two had their bridles cut. What had become of their riders?

Captain Norton at once recognised the animals as belonging to the United States cavalry. “Some disaster has overtaken our people, I fear,” he observed, “for these horses have been in battle, and managed to escape when their riders were overthrown. We must now be doubly on the watch. At the same time, we must hope that, although some have been killed, the rest have put the enemy to flight, or cut their way out, supposing that our troops were surprised. It is not, however, very likely!”

The arrow was extracted from the side of the horse, and the wounds of the others having been looked to, it was hoped that they would do well. Anxious to ascertain what had happened, we pushed on, while the horses were led in the rear. Every moment we expected to meet with the Indians making their escape, or with a body of American troops, who would, it was fully believed, have been victorious. Not a human being appeared in sight. We had marched a couple of miles farther, however, when we saw hovering in the air a number of birds, while others were flitting about the trees or perched on the boughs. As we drew nearer, we recognised among them numberless turkey buzzards, vultures, and other carrion fowl, while a pack of wolves were roaming about, disputing with the feathered tribe for their prey.

“It is a battle-field!” I heard my father exclaim.

A sickening sensation came over me when I saw the remains of my fellow-creatures covering the ground, and the horrible condition to which the birds of prey and the wolves had reduced them. I hung back; though several of the party went forward, that they might ascertain who they were and what number had fallen. It must have been difficult, however, to count them. Already the limbs of many had been torn off, and the countenances of all had been so disfigured that their nearest friends could not have identified them; but their uniforms told too plainly that they were soldiers of the United States. Including officers and men, there must have been nearly a hundred, mostly infantry, with a few cavalry. The latter lay scattered about outside the rest. Too probably not one of the whole force had escaped. Most of them had been scalped, showing that the Redskins had been victorious; but they had, for some reason or other, moved off before they had finished their horrible work. It was clear that the troops had been surprised and destroyed by a vastly superior force before they had had time to stand on the defensive. On either side of the space were thick woods, in which probably the Indians had lain in ambush, when some of the party, emerging from one end of the glade, and some from the other, the troops had been completely surrounded.

Captain Norton appeared deeply affected when we gathered together, after he had surveyed the battle-field. He was of opinion that the troops had come from the west coast—probably from the Bay of Tampa—and were marching to one of the forts to the northward. He acknowledged, too, that we were in a fearfully dangerous predicament, and that the fate which had overtaken the soldiers might be ours. What could our small force avail against many hundreds of fierce warriors flushed with victory? To turn back was as dangerous as to proceed. Should we be pursued, we might quickly be overwhelmed. He therefore determined on attempting to gain one of the forts, where we might hold out against Oceola’s forces.

To stop and bury the dead was impossible. The wolves and birds of prey would soon dispose of them. We had our own safety to look after. Even now the woods on either side might be full of our enemies, waiting only for a favourable opportunity to set upon us. To ascertain whether there were any foes lurking near us, the dogs, one at a time, were turned into the woods. Before long, the loud baying of the first which was let loose gave notice that he had discovered some one; and the scouts, led by Tim, were at once sent forward to ascertain what was there. We waited with our weapons ready to defend ourselves, should they be driven back by the enemy. They soon, however, reappeared, carrying a wounded man. Though severely hurt, he was able to speak, and informed Captain Norton that to his belief he was the sole survivor of a force of upwards of a hundred men, who had marched from the Bay of Tampa, intending to proceed to Fort King, which was, it had been understood, threatened by Oceola and his braves. Suddenly, when they did not believe an enemy was near, having halted and piled their arms, they were set upon by upwards of five hundred well-armed Indians, who were in their midst before they could recover their weapons. He was one of the very first wounded, and had crawled behind a bush, where he lay and witnessed the slaughter of his comrades. As evening approached, favoured by the darkness, he crawled farther into the wood, to die in peace. He heard the shouts and shrieks of the Redskins, triumphing over their victims, when suddenly they had hurried off, as he supposed, to the northward.

While we were listening to the poor fellow’s account, the dogs had been sent in to the other side of the forest, where they discovered three more soldiers, almost at the point of death. Two, indeed, died before they could give any account of what had happened; but the other corroborated the statement of the first in all particulars, adding that he had seen the savages dance round the slain; and that while thus engaged the horses had escaped, with the exception of two or three, which they had succeeded in carrying off with them. Several, indeed, lay dead on the battle-field, almost torn to pieces by the wolves. My father, who had had some experience in gunshot wounds, did his best to attend to the poor men; but the last discovered died in the course of a few minutes, and we had now only one, the sole survivor of the massacre, to carry with us. A rough litter was at once formed, as he could not bear the jolting of a horse; and he was carried forward on the shoulders of some of our people, who willingly undertook the task. As it was dangerous to remain in the exposed position in which we were, we now advanced as fast as possible, fearing that at any moment we might be attacked by a vastly superior force. Every man of the party, however, was resolved to fight to the last, and to sell his life dearly.

Spotted Wolf had appeared as much astonished as any of us at the discovery of the massacred troops. Carlos observed to me that he thought the fellow was looking out for an opportunity to escape. “If he tries to do so, I’ll shoot him,” he added. “I have mistrusted him from the first. I suspect that, in advising us to take this route, he expected to lead us up to the ambush into which our troops have fallen; and I believe that he wants to get off for the purpose of letting Oceola know how small a party we are. Probably the enemy were deceived, and, getting information of our approach, supposed that we were a large force coming to the assistance of our friends.”

I thought that Carlos was right in his conjectures, as did my father when I told him of them. Carlos also spoke to Captain Norton on the subject in a way which induced him, at all events, to be cautious in further trusting Spotted Wolf. He also issued an order to all the men to keep an eye on Spotted Wolf, and to shoot him without ceremony should he attempt to escape.

Before long we came upon a well-defined trail made by wheeled vehicles, as also by the feet of horses and men, and we had no doubt that it led directly to the fort which we desired to reach. We pushed forward, therefore, with revived confidence, hoping before long to get within strong walls, where, with the assistance of its present garrison, we might bid defiance to all foes likely to attack us. As we approached, however, we saw that it was little more than a block-house, and that no flag waved above the stockade. Advancing nearer, we expected to be hailed. No friendly voice, however, reached our ears.

“Can it be deserted? or have the Redskins got possession of it?” I heard my father exclaim.

“We must not be taken by surprise,” observed Captain Norton. He called for two volunteers to go forward and ascertain the condition of the fort. Tim, who was always ready for anything, sprang to the front. I begged my father to let me accompany him. He hesitated; but he considered that it would be setting a bad example to the men if he refused, and he gave his consent. Tim and I immediately advanced, looking out for any hole or opening through which the muzzle of a rifle or the point of an arrow might appear. The building had lately suffered either from fire or assault. Many of the palisades had been broken down, and the buildings inside were roofless. No one was to be seen, and the gate was open. We entered, still, however, keeping our rifles ready for instant use. Not a voice was heard. We soon discovered what had taken place. The small garrison had been overpowered and slaughtered to a man. The larger number lay inside the house, into which they had evidently retreated to defend themselves. The remainder were found close under the stockade. Nearly all had been killed in a hand-to-hand fight, and few, if any, had been shot down from the outside.

“Depend upon it,” said Tim, “there was treachery here, an’ the gate was opened at night to let the enemy in. A place like this might be defended against any number of Redskins, unless the garrison ran short of ammunition.”

“That’s just what I suspect they did,” I answered, examining the pouches of two of the men who lay nearest me. They were both empty.

We had, however, no time to discuss the matter, as it was our duty to hurry back and report what we had discovered. On hearing it, Captain Norton resolved to occupy the fort. Our first business on entering was to carry out the bodies of the late garrison. It was a mournful task, as we had no means of burying them, or, at all events, no time to devote to this object. As soon as this duty was performed, we set to work to repair the fort. Most of the men had axes, which they vigorously plied, and soon cut down a sufficient number of trees for our purpose. The men laboured hard, knowing that their lives might depend on their getting the fort into a fit state to resist the enemy. Not until every breach was repaired, the gate strengthened, and the centre hut—for it was little more—roofed in with the split trunks of trees, did we cease from our toil. It was nearly morning by the time our work was accomplished. Not until then did the captain or any of the men lie down to snatch a short sleep. Fortunately, the storehouse had escaped, and in it we discovered a supply of salt provisions sufficient to last us several days, while a well dug within the stockade afforded an ample supply of water. We might thus hold out for a considerable time, without the necessity of venturing far from the fort to obtain game.

The captain was still unwilling to make it impossible for Spotted Wolf to escape, by shooting him or binding his limbs; but he charged two of the most intelligent of the men to keep a constant watch over the Indian, and not to allow him on any pretext to leave the fort. It was necessary to send out a few men to cut grass for the horses, as it was important to keep them in good condition. Those who went, however, were ordered not to venture beyond the immediate vicinity of the fort, into which they could escape should an enemy appear. We had reason to be thankful that we had not been disturbed. But we had made no progress, as far as we could judge, in the object of our expedition; neither Rochford nor Juanita had been discovered, and they might still be leagues away.

Two days passed. Captain Norton and my father were constantly talking over plans for our future proceedings. The captain even asked my father if he would take command of the block-house, while he himself with three others should make their way on horseback to one of the larger forts, where he could obtain information for his guidance. As we all knew that it would be impossible to hold the block-house during a protracted siege without a larger supply of provisions than we possessed, it became necessary, as soon as possible, to obtain game, so as to enable us to keep the salt provisions for such an emergency. Though we had little to fear from their usual style of warfare—for the red men, when they fail in an attack, generally abandon it altogether—still, it was possible that, under their bold and sagacious chief Oceola, they might adopt a new system, and attempt the destruction of one fort after another, until they had rid the country of the Palefaces, as they boastfully asserted they intended to do.

As soon as the fort was placed in an efficient state, Captain Norton sent out the scouts to ascertain if any Indians were in the neighbourhood. They returned, stating that they had seen none, and that they believed the country would be found open to Fort King, or to the eastward, and that we might therefore return to the river, should such a movement be considered desirable. None of them brought any game, asserting their belief that the Indians had driven off all the deer and wild cattle, and that, except some birds and small animals, we were not likely to obtain any. Thus we all felt that the expedition would be bootless, as we had utterly failed to obtain tidings of those of whom we were in search.

Captain Norton now determined to take two of the best horses, one for himself and the other for a companion, and push on to Fort King, trusting to their speed to escape any enemies they might fall in with. Carlos and I both volunteered to accompany him. He decided, however, to take only one of us, and fixed upon Carlos, as he knew the country better than I did. It was settled that they should set out by daybreak the next morning. The horses had been well fed, and the captain hoped that in three or four hours they might reach their destination. When the animals, however, were led out, the one Carlos intended to ride was evidently lame. Its leg was examined, but no cause could be discovered for its lameness, and none of the others were fit for the journey.

“I must then start by myself!” exclaimed the captain. “I am sorry not to have your company, Carlos; but as there is some hazard in the expedition, it may be better for you to remain in the fort.”

“I suspect that Indian fellow has had something to do with the lameness of the animal,” whispered Carlos. “Captain Norton, who still thinks him honest, would not believe me if I said so. However, I will keep my eye on him; and I will shoot him through the head if I find him playing any trick.”

I urged Carlos not to do that, at all events; though I agreed that he ought not to be allowed to go out of sight of his guards for a single moment.

While we were still examining the horses, hoping that after a little while the lameness would go off, one of the scouts called out that a stranger was approaching.

“Maybe he is one of the blacks,” I observed. But on mounting the platform placed inside the stockade, I saw that the man was a white in hunter’s garb, and that he was carrying a deer on his shoulders. He was accompanied by a handsome hound, which every now and then turned round, as if on the watch to give him timely notice of the approach of any one who might be following him. He hurried on, notwithstanding the weight of the animal and holding his rifle in his hand, looking back every now and then as if he did not feel himself secure from pursuit.

“Who comes there?” shouted the sentry.

“A friend,” was the reply. “Open the gate, and let me in. I wish to see your commanding officer.”

I hurried down to tell Captain Norton, who ordered the gate to be opened.

As the hunter advanced, what was my surprise to recognise our friend Rochford. The gate was opened, and the hunter entered. Throwing down the deer, he advanced with outstretched hand to meet Captain Norton. Though he was much disguised by his hunter’s dress, his sun-burned features, and a huge moustache, as I watched him I felt sure that I was not mistaken.

“What brings you here?” asked Captain Norton.

“I come to give you warning that you may at any moment be attacked by a strong body of Indians. Don’t you know me?” asked the hunter.

“What—Rochford!” exclaimed the captain, grasping his hand. “I am truly glad to see you. Your coming thus at once proves that you are innocent of the grave charge brought against you.”

“I am certainly innocent of any intention of acting wrongly, though I confess that I have allowed myself to be deceived in the character of those it was my honest desire to assist. I cannot, however, at present enter into particulars, nor tell you how I obtained the information I possess. It must be sufficient for you to know that I heard of your having occupied this fort, and also that you are very likely to be hard pressed for want of provisions. I therefore resolved to come and put you on your guard, and, if possible, not to appear empty-handed. I was fortunate enough to kill this deer at no great distance from the fort, as I was making my way towards it. Tell me, of what am I accused, besides having gone away to acquaint myself with the Redskin natives of the country?”

“You are accused of carrying off my sister Juanita; and I, for one, believe that you had a hand in the matter, whatever you may say to the contrary!” exclaimed Carlos, stepping forward and making a threatening gesture at Rochford.

“What is that you say?” exclaimed Rochford, with a look of unfeigned astonishment, while deep emotion was visible in his countenance. “On my word of honour, I am guiltless of any such act; and I say so, notwithstanding the language you use, young sir. When was your sister carried off; and how came it that those who should have protected her were not more careful?”

My father, not allowing Carlos to reply, gave the particulars to Rochford.

“I was at the time far away south,” he answered. “Had I been in the neighbourhood, I should probably have heard of the occurrence from the Indians, who had treated me with courtesy and confidence. It is only since they have been guilty of many acts of atrocity that I have separated myself from them. I told them that I would remain their friend, and do my utmost to defend and advance their cause, if they would act justly, and if resolved on war, would carry it on according to the customs of the civilised nations of the earth. But when I found that they had begun to massacre the unarmed and defenceless people, and had scalped those they had slain in fight, I told them that I could no longer remain their friend. To do them justice, they replied that I was at liberty to act as I judged right; and far from attempting to injure me, they allowed me to go wherever I chose.”

“I fully believe your account, Mr Rochford; and I hope my nephew will apologise for his hasty words, or I will do so for him,” answered my father.

Carlos turned aside, muttering something which I did not overhear. Rochford, however, took no further notice of what Carlos had said, and seemed satisfied with the welcome which the rest of the party, including Lejoillie, gave him. We had, however, but little time for conversation. As a large body of the enemy was approaching the fort, it was necessary at once to make preparations for their reception. The captain addressed a few words of encouragement to the garrison, telling them what he had heard, and urging them to hold out bravely, expressing his confidence that we should drive back the Indians, however numerous they might be. Ammunition was then served out, and each man went to his station to await the attack, which, from the intelligence brought by Rochford, we believed might at any moment be commenced.

Chapter Thirteen.

The lull before the storm—Advancing to the attack—The engagement—Work for marksmen—Tim’s shot—A capture—Rochford undertakes a perilous enterprise—A hunting expedition—Our success—We go back to the fort—Spotted Wolf joins the party—Encamped for the night—Lejoillie nods during his watch—An adventure—The Indian disappears with our horse—Supplying the garrison with provisions—Carlos’s suspicions confirmed—The parting—Reduced to extremity—Preparations for retreat—The wounded soldier—Death of the trooper—The march commenced.

An unusual silence appeared to reign in the woods surrounding the fort; even the birds, whose notes were wont to be heard, were silent. The sun had already risen above the tops of the trees, and shone down with intense force into the confined space which enclosed us. Not a breath of air stirred the leaves. It seemed as if all nature had gone to sleep. The sentries paced up and down on the platforms, watching on either side, for it was impossible to say on which the Indians would make their threatened attack. I asked Rochford if he did not think, after all, that they had changed their minds, and would not venture near.

“I am very sure that they have not,” he answered. “They know that you are but ill supplied with provisions and ammunition; besides which, they have vowed that they will drive all the Palefaces into the sea, and their late success in destroying a large detachment has encouraged them to continue their efforts to liberate their country. I acknowledge that they are vain, for they are ignorant of the vast resources we possess, and fancy that the power of the whites is represented by the few hundreds of troops which they have seen. It would have been more merciful if the United States Government had sent an overwhelming force, which would have rendered resistance impossible. But even had ten times as many troops as are at present in Florida been employed, they could have proceeded but slowly in a country covered in all directions with impenetrable thickets and swamps; and unless good roads are cut, the war will not be brought to a close for many a year to come. Meantime, both white men and natives will suffer cruelly. The great object should be to show the Indians that the whites must conquer at last, and that is what I have endeavoured to do; but the Redskins declare that the country is their own, that they have right on their side, and that the Palefaces will be the first to get tired.”

While we were speaking, one of the men on guard shouted, “Here they come!”

On springing on to the platform, we could see a large body of men, some on foot, others on horseback; besides which, we could make out many more emerging from a wood to the north-west. They halted, apparently surprised at our numbers, as they saw the heads of our men appearing above the stockade; for, with the exception of the sentries, all had hurried over to the side towards which they were approaching. The enemy were deceived in another way, by supposing that we should only fire down upon them over the stockade, whereas the lower portion under the platform was well loopholed. After holding a short consultation, during which not a sound reached our ears, they again advanced, led on by their chiefs, uttering the most fearful yells and shrieks. I had often heard of the Indian war-whoop, but I little knew, until now, the extraordinary power of which the human voice is capable when excited by rage and the desire to inspire terror into the hearts of enemies. I confess that I should have been not a little alarmed had I not known what effect our bullets would soon produce on the advancing foe.

“Shout as ye like, ye yelpin’ savages,” cried Tim, who was standing near me; “it won’t make one of us wink an eye, an’ we’ll soon send ye to the rightabout when you get within range of our rifles.”

A few of the chiefs now dashed forward, flourishing their spears, but quickly retreated behind the warriors on foot, who advanced rapidly towards the fort. Captain Norton, as they approached, ordered us all to jump down from the platform and take our posts at the loopholes, whence we could pour a deadly fire on the ranks of the Indians, while we ourselves would be under cover. No sooner was the order given to fire than we began blazing away. The enemy, little expecting the reception they met with, had fancied they could get close up to the foot of the stockade, and climb over without opposition.

Our men had been ordered not to throw a shot away. They fully carried out their instructions. At the very first discharge fully a dozen Indians were either killed or wounded. Staggered by this warm reception they halted, when again their chiefs cried out to them to advance, which they did after discharging a shower of bullets and arrows. The former came pinging against the thick posts which formed the stockade; the latter flew over our heads and fell into the fort, without, however, injuring any one. Half of the garrison only had fired; the remainder at once took their places, while the first party reloaded. We were thus able to keep up a successive fusillade, which evidently greatly astonished our foes. Still they continued to assail us with their missiles, both from fire-arms and bows; and with remarkable courage they again rushed on to the assault. We let them approach until they were close up to the stockade, when we once more opened so withering a fire that few made the attempt to climb up, and those who did quickly dropped down, either with cloven heads or hands well-nigh chopped off. The whole force, apparently seeing that they had no chance of getting into the fort, hurriedly retreated, dragging away, as they did so, the bodies of the slain.

Our men cheered, under the belief that we had won the victory; but the Indians, though they had abandoned the assault for the moment, did not consider themselves defeated, and halting as soon as they had got beyond the range of our rifles, once more faced about. From their costumes and wild appearance Captain Norton declared that they were not Seminoles, but probably some of the allies who had, it was said, lately joined the rebels from the north. Such, certainly, were the chiefs on horseback; who now, having again arranged their men, and encouraged them to renewed exertions, dashed on towards us at full speed, waving their lances and shrieking at the top of their voices.

“Let them play that trick as long as they like,” cried the captain. “Wait until some of them get near enough, then bring down their horses. It will require a good shot to kill the riders; but if their steeds fall, we can easily capture them, and they would be of the greatest use to us. However, do not throw a shot away, and wait patiently until they come near. Perhaps they think our ammunition is exhausted; and if they find we don’t fire, they may come close up to the stockade.”

The captain’s orders were strictly obeyed. The warriors continued wheeling round and round, now advancing, now retreating, but still keeping at a respectful distance from the fort. At length they got so near, it seemed to me that we might have knocked over the whole of them. Captain Norton, however, did not allow us to fire. This, as may be expected, made them still bolder, and at length they came sweeping on at full speed, shaking their spears and shouting defiance, till they got within fifty yards of us.

“Now give it them, lads!” exclaimed Captain Norton.

As we had but a limited supply of ammunition, only such men as were looked upon as the best shots had been told off to fire. Among these was Tim, near whom I was standing. He was the first to draw trigger, and so sure was his aim that he shot the horse of one of the chiefs through the head. Down came the animal on its rider, over whom it rolled, crushing his leg, and preventing him from rising. The rest of the chiefs, however, throwing themselves over the sides of their horses, so as to be completely concealed, galloped off like the wind, and as far as I could see, not a man or horse was hit.

“Now, lads, let’s get hold of that fellow before he gets on his feet,” cried Tim; and, jumping over the stockade, followed by three other men, he ran towards the prostrate chief, who in vain, flourishing his spear, called on his companions to rescue him. Finding that none of them returned, he made a desperate lunge with his spear at Tim, who, however, leaping on one side, warded it off with the butt of his rifle, and dealt the Indian a blow on the head which rendered him incapable of further resistance. The Irishman and his companions then seized the nearly-stunned warrior by the shoulders, and dragged him to the gate of the fort. It being opened for their reception, all in another minute were safe within, and the gate again closed.

Our captive soon recovered his senses, and looked about like a wild beast when it finds itself in a cage, seeking for some means of escape. His countenance fell when he saw the strong palisades and the number of armed men by whom he was surrounded. He, however, showed no other signs of fear, and appeared to resign himself to his fate, expecting, apparently, that he would at once be put to death. Captain Norton, who spoke the language of the Seminoles with perfect ease, inquired why he and his companions had attacked the fort.

“Because the desire of the red men is to drive their enemies the Palefaces out of the country, and regain their rightful heritage,” answered the chief.

“But you and your people have signed a treaty agreeing to leave the country in possession of the United States Government, and you have broken that treaty by remaining and attacking the whites.”

“The treaty was signed by traitors, and could not be binding on the rest of the people,” answered the Indian. “We have once more dug up the war-hatchet, and have resolved to regain our own. I have spoken. You have me in your power; my life is in your hands; do as you list.”

“Do you wish to live or die?” asked Captain Norton, detecting less confidence in the Indian’s tone than his words, of which I give a very meagre translation, appeared to exhibit.

“Black Hawk has no desire to die. He has many in his lodges who would mourn his loss,” was the answer.

“Your life is in your own hands, then,” answered Captain Norton. “If you will promise to render us faithful service, you shall live, and obtain an ample reward, with which you can return to your own and gladden the hearts of your squaw and children.”

The Indian’s countenance brightened, and Captain Norton at once saw that in spite of his boastful bearing he would be easily tempted to act any part required.

“Our desire is to make the red men our friends, and we have no wish to induce you to betray your people: but we require information, and if you have the power of giving it, and will enable us to attain our object, we shall be content,” said the captain.

“What is it the white chief desires to know?” asked Black Hawk.

“One of the daughters of the Palefaces was carried off some weeks ago by your people. Is she residing anywhere in this neighbourhood; and if so, will Black Hawk undertake to restore her to those to whom she desires to return?” said Captain Norton.

The Indian, for some time, made no reply to this question. He was apparently considering how he should act. Should he be unable to assist us, or refuse to do so, he would lose his reward, and perhaps be put to death. At last he answered:—

“Black Hawk wishes to serve those who have saved his life. He cannot do so if his own people suspect that he has allied himself to their foes. The daughter of the Paleface chief is alive, and living in the lodges of our great chief Oceola, where she was brought some time back. It is said that he desires to wed the damsel, but that she has refused to become his bride, and that he is unable to compel her.”

“So far what you tell us is satisfactory,” observed Captain Norton. “Can you conduct a party to the lodges of your chief, so that the damsel, should she desire it, may return to her home?”

“The undertaking would be difficult and dangerous,” observed the Indian. “Still, if the white chief wills it, Black Hawk will go; but it would be certain destruction to all those who might form the party, should Oceola discover the attempt made to carry off his intended bride.”

Rochford had been an attentive listener to this conversation, of which I give only a few particulars as they were interpreted to me. He had been sufficiently long with the Indians to understand the greater part of the conversation.

“If Miss Kearney be held captive in the lodges of the Seminole chief, I will undertake to bear any message to her which her uncle or brother desires to send, and endeavour, should she be willing to accompany me, to escort her to her family,” he said. “I have the means of communicating with the Indians in all parts of the country; and in spite of dangers and difficulties, I am sanguine of success.”

“But should the Indians find out that you have communicated with us, they will look upon you as an enemy to their cause, and will probably detain you, if they do not take your life,” observed my father. “Anxious as I am to recover my niece, I think it right to point out to you the danger you incur.”

“I have considered all the difficulties, Captain Kearney, and I count them as nothing compared to the object to be attained,” answered Rochford. “I would set out this very day, but I think it is of importance to know whether our late assailants have taken their departure; for should I fall into their hands, they might detain me until Black Hawk was delivered up to them; or, should they think him killed, they might take my life in revenge for his in spite of Oceola’s safe-conduct. Besides, I am very sure that you require a larger supply of provisions than you now possess; and as none of your party can with prudence venture far from the fort, I propose spending a day in hunting. I have a sufficient reason for this, as I have greater hopes of being able to conduct Miss Kearney to this fort than I have to reach her father’s house; and if you are compelled to abandon the fort for want of provisions, my plan would be defeated.”

Both Captain Norton and my father agreed to Rochford’s proposals, but it was a question whether the Indians could be trusted. They might prove faithful, but it was more likely that they would play him some treacherous trick. He, however, was not to be turned from his purpose. On hearing of his intended hunting expedition, Tim volunteered to accompany him; and I, after a considerable amount of persuasion, induced my father to let me go also. Rochford, having thought over the matter, consented to accept our assistance, believing that he could be answerable for our safety. It was impossible that so large a body of Indians could move through the country without leaving a well-defined trail, and we should thus be able to ascertain the direction they had taken, and to keep out of their way. Both Tim and I, having so long lived in the wilds, were well able also to take care of ourselves; and we promised not to go farther from the fort than was necessary to reach the ground where game was to be found.

Rochford promised to leave his dog behind him, as not only might its trail be discovered, but, though the animal was useful in many respects, it was not required for deer-shooting. A small party like ours was much more likely to escape observation than a large one, so that we hoped to get back to the fort without difficulty.

Taking with us an ample supply of ammunition, and some cooked food to prevent the necessity of lighting a fire, we set out a short time before daybreak, so that, should any of the Indians by chance be approaching the fort, our departure might not be discovered. Rochford led, followed by Tim and me in Indian file, we all three keeping our eyes around us, and our ears open for any sounds which might show the presence of an enemy. We had reached the thicker part of the forest by the time the bright streaks in the east announced the rising of the sun. We soon discovered a track made by the deer on their passage to a neighbouring pool. Rochford stationed Tim and me behind some thick bushes where we could lie concealed and have a good chance of shooting a couple of the animals on their passage to or from the water; while he carefully explored the country farther to the north, to ascertain whether the Indians, as he supposed was the case, had really gone in that direction. It was truly hunting under difficulties. Should any Indians be near, the sound of our shots would reach them, and it would be no easy matter to conceal ourselves from their keen eyes, which would discover the trail we could not avoid making. However, we had not waited long, when a fine stag, followed by two does, came walking leisurely along, little suspecting the fate awaiting them. Tim fired, and knocked over the stag, while I killed one of the does. The other was bounding off, when Tim brought her down with his second barrel.

Delighted at our success, we rushed out, eager to secure our prey, forgetting altogether the possibility that enemies might be in the neighbourhood. We were busily employed in clearing out the inside of the deer, so that we might the more easily carry them, when I heard a sound among the trees a little distance off. Both Tim and I, having reloaded our rifles, retreated behind the bushes from which we had emerged, and knelt down, ready to defend ourselves against any enemy who might appear. Our minds were soon relieved, however, as we saw Rochford step out from the brushwood. He looked somewhat astonished at seeing the three deer on the ground, and greeted us heartily, as we presented ourselves, on our success. He was satisfied, he told us, that we might continue our hunting, as he had discovered the Indian trail leading due north, and had no doubt that the party had been summoned by Oceola to proceed in that direction. Having packed up the venison so that we might carry it, we secured it to the boughs of a tree, and continued our search for more deer. We were fortunate enough to kill three or four others in the course of the morning.

As it was necessary to convey the venison to the fort without delay, we set off, each loaded with as much as he could carry, intending to return with a horse and a couple of men for the remainder. Our arrival was hailed with infinite satisfaction by our friends, and Lejoillie and another man volunteered at once to accompany us. Spotted Wolf, seeing us about to set off, begged that he might also go. As he had come into our camp voluntarily, it was difficult to refuse him without showing that we suspected his honesty. On perceiving that Captain Norton hesitated, he declared that he was as willing to remain as to go; but he thought that he might be of service in assisting to obtain game, and that he had another reason for offering to join the party. Notwithstanding the suspicions which had been entertained of him, somewhat to my surprise Captain Norton consented.

“We shall have to repent it, depend upon that,” said Carlos. “I should like to go too, for the sake of keeping my eye on him; but Uncle Michael says he won’t allow me. He has the right to permit you to run any risk, but he has to answer for my safety to my father. Still, I advise you to watch him narrowly; and do not scruple to shoot the fellow should he show any inclination to play you a treacherous trick.”

I replied that I could not undertake to shoot the man, but should watch him as far as I had the power.

After Rochford, Tim, and I had taken some food and rested, we set out with our fresh companions. We were again successful. In the evening we agreed to camp out, hoping to kill the next morning as much deer as we and the horse could carry together. Lejoillie was in high spirits, his volubility contrasting with Rochford’s taciturnity. We camped in the centre of a wood, so that the flames of our fire might be concealed; and we took good care to examine the neighbourhood, to ascertain that no one was concealed there. We had, of course, an abundance of venison for supper. Having finished our meal, we lay down to rest, Lejoillie volunteering to keep the first watch. I was to have the second, and Rochford and Tim the third and fourth; for we did not invite the Indian and the other men to keep guard. We lay down as close to the fire as we could, that the smoke might assist in keeping off the mosquitoes and other stinging insects. Spotted Wolf, observing that he was indifferent as to their bites, rolled himself up in a blanket which had been given him at the fort, and lay down a short distance off, at the foot of the nearest tree. I remember, as I closed my eyes, seeing Lejoillie walking up and down, his rifle in his hand, now approaching the horse, which was tethered close at hand, at a spot where the grass was abundant, now taking a look at the Indian, who appeared to be sound asleep. It seemed to me not a minute after my eyes had been shut that I heard Lejoillie’s voice rousing me to keep my watch. The fire was lower than I expected to find it. I asked him why he had not kept it up.

“Better not to have more blaze than we can help,” he answered. “It is just possible, too, that I may have dozed for a moment while I sat down against a tree. However, no harm is done; and I will now finish my nap.” Saying this, he threw himself on the ground in the place I had just left vacant.

“I suspect that our friends, as you also, will thank me for putting some more sticks on the fire,” I observed. “The smoke will help to drive off the mosquitoes, which have been biting abominably; and I heard them buzzing round my ears the moment you called me.”

I found by my watch that Lejoillie had allowed nearly an hour to pass since he ought to have aroused me, and that I should in consequence have but a short time to stand sentry. Taking up my rifle, I determined to be more wakeful than he had been. I stepped towards where Spotted Wolf was lying. He appeared to me to be sleeping soundly, with his head covered up in his blanket, and his feet thrust into a heap of leaves. The horse was farther off than it had been before, and I supposed that Lejoillie had shifted its tether so as to allow it to obtain more grass. I continued pacing up and down, now and then stopping to throw a few more sticks on the fire. The stars shone bright overhead, but there was no moon, and the lean-tos threw a dark shadow over the ground around, so that, except when the flames burst up, I could distinguish nothing clearly at any distance from the camp. The usual sounds which were wont to reach our ears during darkness in the forest were alone heard: the screeching of some night-bird, the croaking of frogs, the burr and buzz of insects innumerable, and occasionally a rustling among the dry palmetto leaves, which I knew was probably produced by a rattlesnake. I was thankful when I saw that it was time to call up Rochford. While I was arousing him, I thought I heard the sound of a horse moving rapidly over the ground.

“Hark!” I exclaimed, “can that be our horse which has got loose?” We both looked in the direction where we had last seen the animal, but it was nowhere visible.

“It has got loose somehow or other. We must try to catch it,” cried Rochford.

Before I followed him, I sprang forward to where I supposed the Indian was sleeping. I lifted the blanket,—a heap of leaves alone was beneath it. He was gone. There could be no doubt that he had carried off the horse. We might as well try to overtake a fleet deer as to attempt to catch him on foot. I shouted to Rochford, fearing that he might be led too far from the camp to be able to regain it.

“Spotted Wolf has escaped, and has gone off with the horse!” I cried out.

My voice aroused our sleeping companions, who sprang to their feet. Fortunately Rochford had heard me, and came back. We at once held a consultation as to what was to be done. It was the general opinion that Spotted Wolf would rejoin our late assailants, and probably bring them down upon us. We therefore agreed to load ourselves with the venison, and set off at once for the fort. Lejoillie was very much ashamed of himself, as it was evident that the Indian had made his preparations for escaping while he had been dozing. The stars served to guide us, and although we frequently stumbled over logs of wood and branches, we managed to get some distance before daylight. We then pushed on as fast as our weary legs and heavy loads would allow us.

Our friends were very much surprised at seeing us arrive without the horse.

“I thought so!” exclaimed Carlos, when we told of the Indian’s flight. “I knew that fellow was trying to play us a trick from the first; and he would have done so before now, had we not kept a watchful eye on him.”

We brought venison enough to last a couple of days, or even longer on short commons, provided we could manage to dry it in the sun or smoke it.

Rochford told me that he had resolved to set out immediately, and make his way to the lodges of Oceola. Captain Norton, on hearing of his determination, though anxious to recover my cousin, saw clearly the danger our friend would run, especially since the spy had made his escape, and coming into the hut where we were standing, spoke earnestly to him on the subject.

“Spotted Wolf will tell the Redskins that you have been with us,” he said. “They, of course, considering that we are their enemies, will treat you very differently to what they might previously have done.”

“I am fully prepared for every danger I may have to encounter,” answered Rochford, as he took the captain’s hand; “but I have resolved, at the risk of my life, to restore Juanita to her family, if she be willing to intrust herself to my care. I have become acquainted with Oceola, and know him to be as generous as he is brave, although he may not have been able to restrain his followers from committing the cruel and sanguinary deeds of which they have been guilty. We shall meet again, I trust, ere long; and if not, those here will know that I have fallen in a righteous cause.”

Captain Norton, on receiving this reply, no longer endeavoured to dissuade Rochford from his enterprise. “I believe that your plan, from its boldness, is more likely to succeed than any I can devise,” he answered. “Go; and may success crown your efforts!”

Rochford’s dog, which stood by, looked up into its master’s face, as if asking leave to accompany him.

“Yes, my faithful Rob,” he said, patting the animal’s head, “I will not leave you behind this time. You have already saved my life, and will, I know, keep a careful watch over my solitary camp at night.”

Having bade us all farewell, and wrung his cousin’s hand for the last time, Rochford, followed by Rob, hastened from the fort, and was soon lost to sight among the trees.

We remained for the next two days, in the hope of receiving information from the commandant of Fort King; but neither of the two trusty scouts who had been despatched thither returned. At last our provisions had come so nearly to an end that Captain Norton considered, unless we could obtain a fresh supply, it would be necessary to proceed there at once. Had Spotted Wolf not deserted us, we might have sent out a hunting party in the neighbourhood; but as it was thought that he would to a certainty give information to our enemies, and that they would in all probability return and cut off any small party outside the fort, arrangements were made for recommencing the march. Our chief difficulty in a forced march, such as we intended to make, was to convey the wounded man, the sole survivor of the massacred party we had discovered. A strong litter had been prepared, and several men had volunteered to carry him. He had, however, made no progress towards recovery, and the evening before we were to start he was evidently worse.

Tim, who had assisted my father in doctoring him, entered the little room appropriated to the officers. “I am afraid, sir, that Mike Dillon is going to slip through our fingers after all,” he said. “He has asked to see you and the captain, but I fear, by the time you get to him, he’ll have little power to say anything.”

On receiving this summons, we hastened to the hut, where, on a rough pallet, lay the wounded trooper. His eyes turned towards us as we entered.

“The Indians have done for me, gentlemen; and I want to thank you for the care you have taken of a poor fellow,” he gasped out. “If any of you get back, and ever visit Philadelphia, I would ask you as a favour to visit my poor mother, Widow Dillon, and tell her how I came to my end. Give her my love, and say I died in the hope that she would forgive me for the trouble I had caused her.” His words grew fainter as he spoke.

Captain Norton promised that he would carry out his request; and in a few minutes after the young soldier breathed his last.

We buried him that night, just outside the fort, not far from where its former defenders lay. We none of us could tell how soon we might share his fate. Captain Norton, well aware of the dangers to which we should be exposed, charged the scouts to keep a vigilant look-out, so as to avoid being led into an ambush, or surprised in any other way.

Next morning, no messenger having arrived from Fort King, or from any other direction, we commenced our march.

Chapter Fourteen.

Difficulties of the journey—Discovery of wild bees—In sight of Fort King—A warm reception—The flag of truce—With friends—An explanation—A sad story—Detained by the Commandant—The black messenger—News from our friend—Juanita discovered—We set off to join Rochford—Camp—Pompey mistrusted—A negro encampment—Lost in the forests—A welcome challenge—How to act for the best—On the trail—We come up with the Redskins—A hasty deed—Fate of Spotted Wolf—Particulars of Rochford’s capture—Forward to the rescue.

Eager as we were to reach Fort King, we made but slow progress, owing to the nature of the country. The men grumbled as they found their feet torn by the short palmetto which grew everywhere over the ground, frequently inflicting very disagreeable wounds on their almost bare legs. The sun moreover beat down with intense force on our heads; while in many places, as we tramped over the sandy tract, we were surrounded by clouds of dust, which prevented us from seeing to any distance on either side. Frequently we came to swampy ponds, to avoid which we had to make a wide circuit; for though they were not deep, it would have been impossible to have waded through them. As, however, we had scouts out both ahead and on either flank, we ran but little risk, while marching through the open country, of being surprised; and whenever we approached a wood, or mass of the tall saw-grass which fringed the ponds, the dogs were sent forward to ascertain whether or not an enemy lay in ambush under their cover. We soon also felt the want of provisions. The very scanty stock we had brought with us from the block-house was rapidly exhausted, and no large game of any description was to be met with on the prairie, the Indians having driven off or killed all the wild cattle, while the deer had retreated to the cover of the woods. We should soon have exhausted our ammunition had we continued to pop away at the wild-ducks and plovers which rose from the ponds; besides which, the captain had given strict orders that no shots should be fired, lest the sound might be heard by any of the bands of Indians prowling in the vicinity, who thus might have been induced, on discovering the smallness of our party, to attack us. Captain Norton was anxious, if possible, to avoid an encounter with the enemy; for although we might have succeeded in driving them off, it would have been almost impossible to have carried the wounded with us, and they would have had to be left behind to die of starvation, or to be scalped and killed by the Indians. We passed several ponds, but the water was so brackish that it could not be drunk, and we therefore suffered dreadfully from thirst. Our experience showed us what an army has to endure marching across a desert region.

The day wore on, and still we were a long way from our destination. The prairie was bordered on our right side by a thick forest. Besides the short palmetto, the ground in many places was covered with papaw, or custard apple, on which grew a profusion of party-coloured blossoms, while in other places numerous flowers of various hues appeared among the grass. At first I had scarcely noticed the countless bees which were feeding on them; but Black Hawk, who was marching in front, with a guard on either side keeping a strict watch over him, pointed towards an enormous pine-tree which grew somewhat in advance of a line of timber, and I saw that the bees as they rose, laden with honey, directed their course towards it. He addressed a few words to the captain, who observed—

“Our Indian friend tells me that we shall find an abundance of honey in yonder tree, if we will take the trouble to gather it. We must, however, be careful, while we are so employed, that he does not give us the slip, and that no enemies are concealed within the wood, who might rush out and surprise us.”

We, eager to satisfy our hunger, at once directed our course towards the tree. As we approached, we observed countless bees swarming around the lower branches, which were thickly studded with honeycombs. A halt was ordered, and a strict search being made in the wood to ascertain if any Indians were concealed within, we piled arms. The men were then directed to gather wood for fires, while some of the best climbers prepared to ascend the tree and gather the coveted honey. The fires being lit under the branches, the smoke rising either suffocated the bees or drove them off to a distance; when wedges being driven into the trunk, steps were formed to enable the climbers to reach the combs. They took the precaution of covering their heads with handkerchiefs, leaving only two small holes through which they could see. No one was inclined to be longer about the task than was absolutely necessary, as, in spite of their precautions, they did not escape without several stings. In a short time they descended, each man laden with combs of various sizes. Other combs were found on the branches of trees in the immediate neighbourhood, and altogether honey enough was found to feed the whole party. The comb and the honey were eaten together. While it stopped the pangs of hunger, it seemed also wonderfully nutritious. Alone, the honey might not have afforded us sufficient nourishment, but our guide told us that at a short distance off we would come upon an opening in which grew an enormous quantity of cabbage-palms. A party was sent to procure them, and before dark they returned with a sufficient supply for all hands. As the bees were likely to revenge themselves should we remain in their neighbourhood, we advanced a short distance, and encamped in a small clump of pines, from which we could see the approach of an enemy, and defend ourselves should we be attacked. No Indians, however, came near us, nor was any trail discovered in the neighbourhood; and the next day, weary and footsore, with our trousers well-nigh torn off our legs, we came in sight of Fort King. On our right were several buildings. As we got up to them, we found that the houses were roofless, shattered, and blackened, while near them were the remains of what was once a large store. It was pretty evident that the work of destruction had been performed by Indians.

We were advancing in full expectation of a hearty welcome, when a bullet whistled past the captain’s ear.

“Can the Redskins have captured the fort?” he exclaimed, ordering a halt.

“It looks like it,” observed my father. “We had better ascertain how matters stand before we go nearer. We are not prepared to assault the place if the enemy hold it in force. But if you will follow the advice of an old soldier, we will beat a retreat before we lose any of our number. I will go forward with a flag of truce. I don’t know whether the Indians will respect it; but if I see anything suspicious, I will be careful not to allow them to take a steady aim at me.”

On hearing this, I begged my father to allow me to go instead, but this he refused. Tim then offered to go, but my father firmly persisted in keeping to his resolution.

Mounting one of the horses, which had hitherto been led in the rear to keep them fresh for necessary work, he fastened a flag at the end of a ramrod, and, while we halted, rode rapidly forwards, waving it over his head in a way which would distract the aim of any one firing at him.

I anxiously watched his progress, expecting to see him wheel round and gallop back to us; but presently, to our great satisfaction, the gate of the fort opened, and an officer, followed by several men, came out.

“It’s all right,” cried Captain Norton, giving the word to advance, and in a few minutes we were shaking hands with the commandant of the fort. On the captain asking why we had been fired at, he was told that the musket had been discharged by one of the sentries—of course, an Irishman!—who had mistaken us for a band of Red Indians.

“I am glad my worthy countryman was not a better shot,” said my father, “or one of the best officers in the service would have been lost to his country.”

“We have no best officers among us; we are all excellent,” observed Captain Norton, laughing; “and I hope our friend Pat won’t be punished for being a bad shot.”

The commandant had a sad account to give us. A few days before, the general commanding the forces in Florida, with several officers, had been incautiously dining at the settlement we had just passed. Not an enemy was supposed to be in the neighbourhood. The evening had been spent pleasantly, and the guests were preparing to retire to their homes, either in the settlement or in the fort, when a loud war-whoop was heard, and a shower of bullets came rattling into their midst. Nearly the whole were shot down at once. Two or three managed to escape to the fort, aided by the darkness of night; but the Indians, springing on the remainder of the survivors, struck them to the ground, and carried off their scalps. The garrison had been afraid to fire for fear of wounding friends as well as foes. The Indians did not lose a man.

The garrison of the fort having been greatly weakened, the commandant expressed his satisfaction at our arrival, and at once informed Captain Norton that he must detain him and his men for the defence of the place. This, though a necessary measure, completely disconcerted all our plans for the discovery of my young cousin. My father, Lejoillie, Tim, and I, not being citizens, were at liberty to go if we liked. The commandant also did not insist on detaining Carlos, should he desire to return home or to continue the prosecution of our undertaking. The fort was amply supplied with provisions; and as there was a well within it, there was little fear of the garrison, even if besieged by the red men, being compelled to give in. Still, their limited numbers prevented them moving to any distance without the greatest risk of being cut off, as other parties had been.

We now much regretted that Rochford had left us, as from the knowledge he had obtained of the country, we might, under his guidance, have been enabled to recover Juanita.

We were all this time, I should have said, very anxious about my uncle and his party, for no tidings had been received of him; and being as much exposed as those who had been massacred, he ran the risk of sharing the same fate.

We had spent some days in inactivity. All this time my poor young cousin might be exposed to the greatest danger, and yet we were unable to devise a plan for rescuing her.

Finding my sleeping-place very hot, I had one morning turned out at daybreak, and was taking a turn on the gallery, or rather platform, above the stockade, when I caught sight of a person approaching the fort. I soon saw that he was a black, and that he was waving a white handkerchief at the end of a stick. The nearer he approached the more he waved, evidently not satisfied with the appearance of things. I looked round to see that none of the sentries were taking aim at the man. It struck me at once that he might be a messenger from Rochford. I hastened down to the gate to receive him. I was not mistaken.

“Me Pompey; bring message from Massa Rochford to de young white massa. You he, I guess,” he said.

“I have no doubt that Mr Rochford has sent to my father or me, as we are friends of his. I am anxious to hear what you have to say,” I replied.

“It dis,” said Pompey, trying to look very grave; “Massa Rochford found out whar de young missie is stayin’. He talk to her, an’ she ready to come. Massa Rochford say if he had ’osses he bring her ’way, but oderwise he fear dey bof get caught; so he stop in a wood not far from deir lodges, whar no Indians find him. He stay dar till de young massa and captain come wid de ’osses, den he get de white girl an’ carry her ’way all safe. Massa understand what Pompey say?”

“Very clearly; but how are we to find the place where Mr Rochford is hiding?” I asked.

“Pompey him show you, massa; him come on purpose,” said the black.

“How long will it take to get there?” I asked.

The black began to count on his fingers, with a knowing look.

“Maybe two days, maybe free, accordin’ to circumstances; maybe only one, if ’osses go quick—but den Pompey not keep up an’ show de way.”

“Come in, Pompey, and you shall explain what you have told me to Captain Norton and my father, and I have no doubt that they will agree to Mr Rochford’s proposal.”

Neither of them had turned out, but I roused them up, as there was no time to be lost. On hearing the information Pompey had brought, they at once went to the commandant and laid the matter before him. He consented to allow us to take the horses we had brought to the fort, with two or three others if we required them. I did not expect that he would give permission to Captain Norton to go; but the captain pressed him so hard that he at length consented, provided my father, who had been unwell for some days, would consent to remain. To this my father consented, fearing that if he went he might break down on the way, and be unable to proceed. It was finally arranged that Captain Norton, Carlos, Tim, and I, under the guidance of Pompey, should set out on our four best horses, with two led ones for Juanita and Rochford. The black declined mounting, declaring that he had never ridden a horse, but that he would keep the lead on foot. As soon as he had taken some food and a short rest we set out. He showed by his activity that he was well able to perform his promise. When, however, he got out of sight of the fort, he stopped and said—

“Pompey guess he might stick on de ’oss, an’ den we go faster.” Without waiting for a reply, he sprang into the saddle, and from the way in which he sat showed that he was as well accustomed to riding as any of us. Where the ground would allow he took the lead in fine style. Away we went, allowing no ordinary impediments to hinder us.

“Take care that fellow doesn’t play us a trick,” observed Captain Norton.

“I feel pretty sure he is trustworthy. He merely feels in good spirits at riding, instead of having to use his legs,” I replied.

We were obliged to stop to water the horses at a pool we had come to, for fear that there would be no water farther on. Soon after this we reached the borders of a wood, when, darkness coming on, we were compelled to halt for the night. We kept a double watch, two of us guarding the horses, while the other two slept. We allowed Pompey to sleep the whole time, as he required rest, and we thought it as well not to put implicit trust in him.

Next day our progress was slower, as we were unwilling to tire our horses, in the belief that they would be required before long to gallop as fast as their legs could carry them; besides which, the country was much more difficult to traverse than on the previous part of the journey, there being swamps, and woods, and sandy tracts, besides occasionally large pools, in our course. Pompey, who evidently knew the country well, assured us that we should reach Rochford’s hiding-place by dark. Trusting to his assertion that there were no Indians in the neighbourhood, we ventured to dismount near a pool to kill a sufficient number of ducks to serve us for food. We had brought a supply of crackers with us, and a few other articles, so that we were not badly off. We had, however, once more to camp.

“Why, Pompey,” I said, when we had unsaddled our horses, “I thought that we should have seen Mr Rochford before this.”

“Yee, massa; he no far off, dough,” he answered. “Me think you better stop here, while Pompey go on an’ tell him dat you come.”

“Well, then, the sooner you let him know the better, as he will not wish to lose time,” I replied.

I told Captain Norton what the black had said. “Let him go at once, but it will be as well for one of us to follow him and see what he is about,” he said. “I am not quite satisfied with his manner; and yet I daresay he is honest enough.”

Captain Norton did not object to my proposal to follow the black. As soon as he set off, I started close behind him, but at such a distance that he did not hear my footsteps. After making my way through the forest—not without considerable fear of losing him—I saw a bright light some way ahead, which I knew must proceed from a fire, and observed he was directing his course towards it. I therefore followed more leisurely, and at length caught sight of the fire, with several blacks near it, some apparently collecting wood, others cutting up a deer. I looked round for Rochford, but he was nowhere to be seen. Just then Pompey made his appearance among the people, and at once asked for “the white massa.”

“Him gone,” answered one of the blacks. “Him not come back since yesterday; bery likely Redskin got him.”

“Redskin got him! oh dat bad news!” exclaimed Pompey in a truly sorrowful voice. He then, in the peculiar jargon of the blacks, informed his companions that a party had arrived from Fort King, who would be bitterly disappointed at not finding Massa Rochford. They now held a consultation as to what should be done. Pompey finally announced his intention of returning to tell us of Rochford’s absence, and to say that, should we wish it, he would accompany us farther, and, though at the risk of his life, try to find our white friend. From what I heard him say, I was now convinced of his honesty, as also of his affection for Rochford. His unwillingness to take us at once to the camp was fully accounted for. The people before me, I saw, were evidently a party of runaway blacks; two, indeed, I recognised as those who had deserted from us, and I had little doubt that Rochford had persuaded them that he would obtain their freedom. I felt very doubtful whether I should find my way back. As I had been guided by Pompey in going towards the negro camp, I had forgotten the difficulties I should experience in returning to our own. My anxiety also as to what had become of Rochford made me at first forget the risk I ran of losing my way. I might tread on a snake or encounter a panther, or tumble into a hole, or get smothered in the trunk of a rotten tree or some black pool full of noxious creatures. As long, however, as I could see the light of the blacks’ fire, by occasionally looking back, I managed to make my way in the direction leading to our camp; but after that I could only guess whether I was going the right way by the momentary glimpse of a star overhead. At last, however, when trying to pass through a thick part of the forest, I was fairly bewildered. Still, as I could not contentedly remain where I was, I pushed forward. It was with an intense feeling of relief that I caught sight, far away before me, of a slight ruddy tinge on the trunks of the trees, which, I was convinced, was produced by the camp-fire of my friends. I advanced, not without many a scratch, while my clothes were well-nigh torn to pieces. Suddenly the thought occurred to me that the distance was greater than I had come, and that the fire might possibly be that of an Indian camp. I stopped to listen, but no sound reached me. Then again I went forward. The glow increased, and I was sure I was approaching a camp. Still I could hear no one speaking. Suddenly, however, a hail reached my ears—

“Arrah! who goes there?” and, to my infinite satisfaction, I recognised Tim’s voice.

“It’s Maurice; don’t be after shooting me,” I cried out; and I was soon in the midst of my friends.

The information I brought caused them considerable anxiety; still they hoped that Rochford might after all return. They resolved, however, to wait until Pompey made his appearance before deciding on what to do. He at last arrived, looking very crestfallen. We, of course, did not tell him that we already possessed most of the information he had to give. He told us, in addition to what we already knew, that a party of Indians had been seen following up Rochford’s trail. Fears were entertained, therefore, that he had been overtaken, especially as one of the Indians was on horseback.

“Then it must be that rascal Spotted Wolf!” exclaimed Carlos. “I guessed from the first that he was plotting some mischief, and I wish that he had been shot at once.”

Cross-questioning the black, we found that the Redskins had been seen on the previous day, so that should they have fallen in with Rochford, they could not as yet have got very far away. Pompey offered to bring another black, who had caught sight of them, and who, knowing the country well, would assist in guiding us.

I could not sleep when off my watch for thinking of the work we should have to do on the following day. Perhaps we should find Rochford killed and scalped.

As may be supposed, we kept a very vigilant watch; for Indians being close at hand, we might should they for a moment find us off our guard, be attacked and murdered. Captain Norton, though not exactly despising them, was of the opinion that their successes had arisen from the carelessness of the whites, who, had they not been taken completely by surprise, could with ease have driven off their Redskin foes.

The night passed away, and at the earliest dawn Pompey getting up, gave himself a shake, and offered to go and obtain the assistance of one of his companions, should Rochford, in the meantime, not have arrived. He was evidently anxious that none of us should accompany him, as we might suspect that his friends were runaway blacks. Of course, he was not aware that I was very well assured of that fact. We had barely time to take a hurried breakfast when he returned, accompanied by another negro, who undertook to put us on the Indians’ trail. As there was not a moment to be lost, we immediately mounted, and, led by the two blacks, pushed on as fast as they could run. At last they stopped and pointed to the north-west.

“Dis nigger say dat way dey go,” said Pompey.

That he spoke the truth we had no doubt, as the trail was sufficiently distinct even for us to distinguish. There were numerous footprints, as well as the marks of a horse’s hoofs.

“You find Massa Rochford, come back to de wood, we stay dar free days, in case you want us,” he added.

We thanked him for the assistance he had given us. He neither asked for, nor evidently did he expect any, reward; indeed, had he done so, we had nothing to give him.

He and his companion hurried away, anxious to escape the risk of encountering any of the Indians, although the blacks were generally treated kindly by the natives; and we pushed on at a much faster rate than before.

At length we came to a spot where it was evident, from a still smouldering fire, that the Indians had encamped during the previous night, and had probably only lately left. The trail, which led off to the right, showed that there were not more men than we could easily cope with. We pushed on, therefore, in the hope of soon coming up with them, and ascertaining whether Rochford was among them, and if so, whether he was a prisoner or at liberty.

In a shorter time than we expected we caught sight of a party of Redskins—there might have been about a dozen—with a man on horseback in their midst. They did not appear to have discovered us, as the turf over which we were galloping was soft, and prevented the sound of our horses’ hoofs being heard. As we got nearer, to my surprise I saw that there were two men instead of one on the horse. The hindermost looked round for a moment and caught a glimpse of us. His dress showed that he was not an Indian, though he was at too great a distance to enable me to distinguish his countenance. Suddenly the horse started off from among the Indians on foot, and galloped forward at right angles to the course they had been pursuing.

“Why, that is Rochford,” cried Carlos; “and the Indian is that rascal Spotted Wolf.”

Scarcely had he spoken than we saw the Indians bend their bows; but they apparently dared not shoot for fear of killing Spotted Wolf as well as Rochford,—thus enabling the horse to carry both the Indian and his prisoner to a considerable distance from them. We immediately pursued them, regardless of the party on foot; but Tim having charge of one of the led horses, and I of the other, we dropped somewhat behind Captain Norton and Carlos. I could see that Rochford was struggling violently with the Indian, when presently he managed to free his arms from the rope which bound them behind his back, and pressing those of the Indian close to his side, he seized the reins, and endeavoured to check the horse’s course.

The captain and Carlos, urging on their steeds, were in a short time almost up alongside them. I saw Rochford turn to one side, as if speaking to Captain Norton; and while he was doing so, what was my horror to see Carlos, making his horse spring forward, plunge his long knife into the Indian’s breast, exclaiming, as I afterwards learned—

“Take that, you wretched spy; you’ll no longer play us any of your tricks!”

He had driven his weapon right home, and as he withdrew it, the blood, which flowed in a full stream, showed the fatal nature of the wound.

Tim and I now came up. Carlos, with the greatest unconcern, handed his knife to Rochford, saying—

“Here, Rochford, take this and cut the thongs which bind you to the Indian, and tumble the body out of the saddle.”

“What have you done, Carlos?” cried Rochford. “We might have kept the man as a hostage, and have made him useful.”

“It is too late to think of that now; see, he is already dying!” replied Carlos.

Rochford took the knife, and cutting the cords allowed the Indian’s body to fall from the horse. I was horrified and grieved at what my young cousin had done; but he, apparently considering that he had done nothing unusual, exclaimed—

“Let the savage lie where he has fallen; we must push on if we wish to save our lives.”

That he was right in this respect was very certain. Rochford, who was a first-rate rider, without stopping the horse, seated himself in the saddle, and galloped on alongside Captain Norton. I made up to them, eager to learn what had happened.

Rochford, in a few words, told us that he had arranged everything for Juanita’s escape; and would have carried her off the previous night had he not been captured by Spotted Wolf and his followers, who were conveying him to Oceola’s camp to accuse him of treachery, when we fell in with them. He added that he had still hopes of success, as Juanita would be on the watch for him; and that, if we could manage to distance the Indians—who were not likely to hurry themselves without their leader—we might reach the Indian village, place Juanita on horseback, and reach either Fort King or some other place of safety before any pursuers could overtake us.

Wrong as it was in Carlos to kill the Indian, who was at the time virtually a prisoner, yet we gained an advantage by the act; for his followers would probably abandon the pursuit of us, as they could not carry him along with them, and they would not venture to leave him unprotected behind. We, at all events, on looking back, could see nothing of them, and therefore stopped to breathe our horses, and thus enable them to put on fresh speed should it become necessary.

Chapter Fifteen.

Rochford enters the Indian village—Waiting in the wood—Doubtful of success—An anxious half-hour—Proposed assault—Ready for action—The rescue—An angry scene—The retreat—Dangers on the way—Juanita’s experience—Arrival at the Fort—Condition of my father—A fresh expedition—Rochford declines to join our party—Black Hawk to go with us—Indian trails discovered—Scouting—Carlos missing—An Indian’s revenge—A forest-grave—A startling interruption—The timely reinforcements—Death of my uncle—Result of the engagement—The fate of Black Hawk.

Once more we were galloping in the direction of Oceola’s lodges. The warriors of the various tribes throughout the country had been summoned round the standard of their chief, so that the district through which we passed appeared perfectly destitute of inhabitants; not a red man did we meet to interfere with us. We thus hoped that having distanced the followers of Spotted Wolf, we might get Juanita off without having to encounter an enemy. Rochford knew the country perfectly, having frequently hunted over the whole of it for several months together; and he was able unerringly to guide us in the direction we wished to go. At last Rochford pulled up on the borders of a hummock. “Remain here with the horses, ready to start at any moment,” he said. “Miss Kearney will, I trust, be on the look-out for me; and if we can but elude the vigilance of the old squaws, we shall be with you very soon.”

Having mounted the horse we had brought for him, he set off, and was soon lost to sight. We remained under shelter of the trees; so that, unless any one approached close to the wood, we ran but little risk of being discovered. I was very anxious to accompany Rochford; but he considered that my appearance would excite suspicion, and that it would be safer to go alone. Though he had not spoken to me of the danger he incurred, I knew that it was very great; for should he be captured in his attempt to carry off the young lady, it would be looked upon by Oceola as an act of treachery, and he would to a certainty be put to death. His intention was to enter the village as if he had just come from a hunting expedition, and offer to supply the squaws with venison; or should he be fortunate enough to shoot a deer on his way, he would carry it with him, as it would greatly facilitate his proceedings. That he would do this appeared very unlikely, as the distance was but short: still a deer might be seen in the hummock, and he was too good a shot, should he discover one, to let it escape him.

Directly he had gone, we dismounted to allow our horses to feed, and to drink from a pool which we found close inside the hummock. The time dragged slowly on; I had to look at my watch several times to satisfy myself that our friend had not been very much longer absent than we had expected. Waiting, indeed, is far more trying than when a person is actively engaged.

“Rochford ought to be here by this time,” observed Captain Norton. “I fear that some accident has happened to him, or that he finds it impossible to get the young lady away. We shall have the Indians down upon us if we have to wait much longer.”

“What do you say to making a dash on the village, and carrying off my sister in spite of the squaws or old men?” exclaimed Carlos.

“Sure that would be the finest thing to do, afther all,” cried Tim. “We’ll just keep the old Redskins employed while Mr Rochford or Mr Maurice lifts her on her horse and gallops off with her. They’re not likely to have any fire-arms in the place, except maybe a few old muskets without flints in them, as the warriors will have carried off all they own to fight the whites.”

I thought Tim’s proposal worthy of consideration. But Captain Norton was of opinion that the risk to the young lady would be too great; for though the Indians in the village might very possibly have no fire-arms, they had bows and arrows, and a chance arrow might strike her as well as any of us. “We will wait another half-hour,” he said; “and if Rochford does not then appear with Miss Kearney, we will as Carlos proposes, gallop into the village, and making directly for the chief’s lodge—which we shall know by its superior size and decoration—we will carry away the lady if she be within it. We may possibly also rescue our friend, should we find that he has been made a prisoner.”

Captain Norton’s plan exactly suited the ideas of the party; and I regretted that we had not attempted it at first: we should have gained much time, and run less risk than we were now likely to do.

That last half-hour appeared longer than any of its predecessors. Rochford did not arrive. We tightened our saddle-girths, saw that our bits were well fitted, and threw ourselves on horseback. There were but four of us to oppose some scores of squaws, and we could not tell how many old warriors, who, although unable to fight on the battle-field, might prove no inconsiderable foes when defending their lodges. We at first advanced slowly, that we might put our horses to full speed when the time came for action. As may be supposed, we kept our swords loose in their scabbards, and our rifles ready, with fresh ammunition for reloading.

We had as yet encountered no one: it was evident that the inhabitants, for some reason or other, must be all in the village. At length the tops of the lodges appeared in sight. Our hearts beat quickly. The sooner, after we were seen, we could reach the village the better.

“Forward!” cried Captain Norton. “Yonder is the point for which we must aim.”

We struck our spurs into our horses’ flanks. Scarcely had we done so than a chorus of yells and shrieks, in the shrillest of tones, broke on our ears; and the next instant we saw a horse burst forth from amidst the lodges with Rochford on its back, carrying Juanita before him. Close at its heels came a whole herd of women—or rather furies they appeared, from their fearful cries and wild gestures—while just over their heads we could see several of the old warriors coming from various directions, endeavouring as they moved along to fix their arrows in their bows.

“Come with me, Carlos,” cried Captain Norton. “Maurice and Tim, take the other side; and let our friends pass between us. Then wheel round, and cover them as they gallop on. We shall soon distance these old hags, who, seeing that they have no chance of overtaking us, will soon give up the pursuit.”

I could not help giving way to a loud shout as Rochford, with Juanita, almost fainting, in his arms, rode up. I was joined in it by my companions; and we were all in another instant galloping along at a rate which quickly enabled us to distance our pursuers, although not to get out of earshot of their terrific cries.

Not until we had galloped for a couple of miles did we pull rein, when we halted to allow Juanita to recover herself, and to congratulate her and Rochford on their escape. Captain Norton inquired whether Juanita felt able to mount the horse we had brought. She replied that she would do as Rochford advised; but was ready to do so, if necessary.

“Jump on its back, then,” said Carlos; “we shall go all the faster. You can manage a steed as well as any of us.”

Juanita looked at Rochford, and then allowed him and her brother to help her on her horse. When once she was seated in the saddle, she appeared herself again. There was no time to make inquiries as to how Rochford had contrived to carry her off. We had not only to escape from the people in the village who might come in pursuit of us, but also to avoid Spotted Wolf’s party, who would be certain, should they discover our trail, to follow us up and try to avenge his death.

In a way we had little expected, we had thus far accomplished the object of our expedition. Still, many dangers lay before us. Had it not been necessary to return to Fort King to rejoin my father, we should have felt inclined to push across the Ocklawaha for the banks of the Saint John River, and so make our way to Castle Kearney. The distance, however, was great; and unless we could find a boat, our ammunition might fail before we could reach it, and Juanita might be exposed to more fatigue than she would be able to bear. Towards Fort King, therefore, we directed our course. Juanita declared that she could gallop the whole distance if the horses could continue going. But we had great reason to fear that they could not accomplish this task; for although they had had a long noon-day rest, they had already been galloping for several hours. Still, we determined to push forward during daylight, and to continue on at night should the nature of the ground permit us. We kept a look-out over our left shoulders in the direction in which it was possible the Indians might appear. They might also, if they suspected the route we should take, have hurried on and formed an ambush; and although they were without fire-arms, their arrows at a short distance were as dangerous as bullets. We therefore kept at a distance from any clumps of trees or shrubs which would afford them shelter. Our steeds showed abundance of mettle; and by the time night approached we had every reason to believe that we had out-distanced all pursuers.

As the sun set we saw an open prairie before us, with here and there clumps of pine. The night was clear, and the stars would serve to guide us. Rochford offered to lead the way, that he might warn us of any danger. Carlos rode on one side of Juanita, and I on the other; and the captain and Tim brought up the rear. On we went, though at a slower pace than that which we had pursued during the day-time.

“But how in the world did you allow yourself to be carried off, and give us all this trouble?” asked Carlos, who was accustomed to speak in a somewhat brusque manner to his sisters.

“Depend upon it, I could not help myself,” she answered, not apparently wishing just then to enlighten him.

He, however, again and again pressed her.

“It is a painful subject, and I would rather not think about it,” she answered. “However, if you insist upon knowing, I will tell you. You remember when we were out riding how I galloped on ahead. I did so under the belief that the others were following; when, looking round, I saw that I was alone, and to my horror directly afterwards found myself in the presence of five mounted Indians, one of whom I recognised as the chief who had come to the judge’s house while we were there. He advanced and addressed me, courteously enough, in a long speech full of flowery language, the tenor of which was that I must become his wife. I answered, with as much composure as I could command, that such a thing was impossible, and that I must beg to decline the honour he intended me. I avoided, as I thought, saying a word to annoy him; but I suppose I exhibited the indignation I felt. Suddenly seizing the bridle of my horse, and ordering his braves to follow, he set off at a gallop. I screamed out, threatening to throw myself to the ground; but I was afraid of doing so lest I should break my neck, or that the Indians would gallop over me, which from their looks I thought they would have very little scruple in doing.

“On we went for miles and miles, until we reached a large camp of several hundred warriors. Here a hut was quickly built, which the chief begged me to occupy; and I was treated with every courtesy, although there was not even a squaw to attend on me. It was impossible to escape; and although I was dreadfully frightened, I tried hard to recover my composure and presence of mind, so that I might be able to act on an emergency. The chief, who spoke very good English, said he intended to convey me to the lodges of his tribe, where the squaws would take care of me and attend to all my wishes, provided I made no attempt to escape; and that I should remain there until the white men were driven out of the country and the natives had regained their rights, when he would claim me as his bride. I thanked him for the honour he intended me, but entreated that he would in the meantime carry me back to my father and mother, who would be greatly alarmed at my disappearance. He answered that it was with regard to my safety that he had carried me off from the whites, who would ere long be exterminated; and that he could not bear to see one for whom he had so great an affection remain to share the fate prepared for them. He paid me all sorts of absurd compliments, likening me to a lily, an angel, a star, and I don’t know what else; though I scarcely listened to what he said on that subject. In vain I pleaded, notwithstanding any risk I might run, to be allowed to return home: he was deaf to all my entreaties. As I was careful, however, not to say anything to irritate him, he continued as courteous as at first.

“We set out with a strong escort, and galloped on till nightfall; but not until the end of the fourth day did we reach the chief’s lodges. He there committed me to the charge of his mother, who had, no doubt, in her younger days been very handsome. She received me very kindly, and I had no reason to complain of the way I was treated; in fact, had I been a princess of their tribe, more attention and respect could not have been paid me.

“I now first learned that the chief was no other than Oceola, the great leader of the Indians in the present rebellion. When he visited me I tried to persuade him to make peace with the whites, and to abandon his attempt to regain the country; trying to explain to him how hopeless it was, as, should every settler and soldier be killed, others in overwhelming numbers would ere long pour into the country and revenge their people. He replied that the red men had been victorious everywhere; that hundreds of the Palefaces had been killed; and that such would be the fate of all who should come to the country. At last he took his departure. I was very glad he was gone. I feared, however, that I had not succeeded in impressing him with the hopelessness of his cause.

“Though I saw no means of escaping, I tried to keep up my spirits, and resolved to take advantage of any opportunity that might occur. Imagine my surprise, after I had been some days in the Indian village, to see a white man dressed as a hunter enter it. I felt sure that he was your friend Rochford. Though I pretended not to notice his arrival, I resolved as soon as possible to communicate with him. He must have seen me or heard that I was there; for within an hour a note was brought me, written on a small scrap of paper, containing these words:—

“‘Trust me; I will assist you to escape.—R.’

“Tearing off the small blank piece of the note, I simply wrote ‘Yes,’ fearing lest by any chance it might fall into the hands of the chief. By some means or other, Rochford managed to throw the squaws off their guard, by bringing either venison or some other game each time he came to the village; and he managed to hold frequent communication with me. The rest you know. My great fear now is lest he should fall into the hands of the Indians, who would, on finding that he had assisted to carry me off, wreak a dreadful vengeance upon him.”

I assured Juanita that there was little danger of this; and quieted her fears as well as I could by promising to do my best to prevent our gallant friend running any unnecessary risk.

At last we found so many impediments in our course—Rochford having two or three times narrowly escaped breaking his neck—that we were compelled to halt. As well as we were able to do so in the dark, we put up a shelter for Juanita. The night passed quietly, and the next day we reached Fort King.

Nothing of importance had occurred during our absence. My father was still far from well, and very anxious about my uncle and the party who had accompanied him; for nothing had been heard of them, and it was feared that they might have been surprised by the Indians and cut off, as many other parties had been. Our great wish, therefore, was to set off to ascertain their fate. Should we discover my uncle, it would be a great relief to him to know that his daughter was in comparative safety.

Juanita’s position, however, was far from pleasant: though she had her brother, her uncle, and me, there was no female in the fort to attend on her, and the best accommodation which could be provided was rough in the extreme.

How to proceed was now the question. If she were left in the fort, either Carlos or my father must remain with her. My father was ill, and unfit for any fatigue, though he might have been able to perform an easy journey of short stages. It was therefore decided that he should remain in the fort, and that as many men as could be spared,—including Lejoillie, Carlos, and I,—under the command of Captain Norton, should set off to search for my uncle. Should we discover him, our plan was to return directly to Fort King, and from thence make our way to the Saint John River, by which we could descend to Castle Kearney. It was possible, however, that by this time my uncle had returned home, though he was not likely to have done so without having obtained tidings of his daughter. We therefore resolved, after giving the horses a day’s rest, to set out on our fresh expedition.

To my surprise, Rochford excused himself from accompanying us, although he did not intend to remain in the fort. “I have a duty,” he said, “to perform to others; and while fully alive to the dangers I shall run in passing through the country alone, it must be done.”

I asked him what it was.

“There are some who have put confidence in me, and I cannot disappoint them; besides which, I have still some hopes of inducing Oceola to sue for peace, and to endeavour to obtain by lawful means the object he desires,” he answered.

“But should he discover that you assisted to carry off Juanita, how will he treat you?”

“As he has hitherto done. He is not likely to be informed of the circumstance; and if he were, I do not fear the consequences to myself,” he replied.

Before we set out, Rochford had left the fort.

Black Hawk had hitherto remained a prisoner at large in the fort. He was narrowly watched, but he had not made the slightest attempt to escape. When he heard of the death of Spotted Wolf, and that he had been killed by Carlos, he remarked that it served him right, as he had come for the purpose of betraying us, and would have succeeded had we trusted him.

This frank avowal of Black Hawk fully satisfied the commandant and Captain Norton of his honesty; and as they considered that he would be of great service to us, they asked him whether he would join our expedition. He appeared to hesitate, observing that should any of his countrymen capture him, his death would be certain.

Captain Norton replied that we would protect him to the best of our power, and he finally accepted our offer.

Besides those I have mentioned, we had only fifteen men—a small party to venture through the country in its present state. More, however, could not be spared. We on horseback would be detained by those on foot; but they were active fellows, well inured to fatigue, and would get rapidly over the ground, and we expected to make rapid marches, absolutely necessary in an expedition of the nature we had undertaken.

Carlos was in high spirits, and seemed not to have a doubt as to his father’s safety. It was proposed to place Black Hawk on horseback, but he declined the offer, saying that he could march faster and with less fatigue than any of the Palefaces, and that he would accompany us on foot.

For the first two days we pushed on at a rapid rate, not meeting with any recent Indian trails. Black Hawk, indeed, declared his belief that the red men had retired to the north-west, and that we should not fall in with them. At length, however, at the end of the third day, we came upon the remains of recent campfires and trails, which showed that a considerable body of Indians had lately been in that part of the country. We kept very close together, although the direction which the trails took showed that Black Hawk was right in his conjecture as to the insurgents having moved to the north-west, and we hoped therefore to avoid them. In case, however, any should have remained in the neighbourhood, we moved to the right, and chose as eligible a spot as we could find for our camp, with a thick wood to the west, which would conceal our fires, and an impassable marsh on the opposite side. To prevent the risk of a surprise, scouts were sent out to examine the country, to ascertain that no enemy was near at hand. Carlos and two men, accompanied by Black Hawk, went in one direction, Tim and I in another, intending to separate, while Lejoillie remained with Captain Norton in the camp. We were charged not to go far, and to return before darkness came on. My companion and I each made a tolerably wide circuit, examining every spot which could conceal a foe, when we again met.

“Not the shadow of an enemy,” observed Tim. “It’s my belief that the Redskins have taken themselves off as far as they can get from the whites, and won’t be eager to meet any of us.”

It was quite dark by the time we got back to the camp; but neither Carlos nor the men who had accompanied him on foot had made their appearance. We waited for some time, until we began to grow anxious. At last footsteps were heard, and two men were seen coming towards the camp. They proved to be those who had accompanied Carlos and Black Hawk. They reported that they had got separated in a wood from the young master and the Indian, and that although they had searched about everywhere, they could not find them or discover their trail.

This announcement caused considerable anxiety. Captain Norton blamed the men for their carelessness; but they declared that Carlos himself had told them the course they were to take, and that they had followed no other. We waited for some time, hoping that my young cousin would, guided by the fire, find his way to camp. The Indian would, at all events, be able to lead him right. But what if, after all, Black Hawk had proved treacherous? I was thankful when Captain Norton, after waiting for another hour, decided to send out three or four men. Tim and I begged that we might go; and Lejoillie offered to accompany us. As our horses were tolerably fresh, we should get over more ground than the men on foot, so we at once set out in the direction Carlos had taken. The moon, we knew, would shortly rise and enable us to see our way. We knew that in the immediate neighbourhood of the camp there was but little risk of our falling in with an enemy; but it was possible, should we continue on to any distance from it, that we might find ourselves unexpectedly in the presence of a band of Redskins. Lejoillie at last proposed that we should return, observing that Carlos could not intentionally have gone as far, and that if he had met with any accident, we should find him nearer the camp.

Just after he had said this, I noticed, near the edge of a wood, a light, as if from a small fire. I pointed it out to Lejoillie and Tim. We at all events were bound to examine it, and at once rode forward. As we drew nearer, we could hear the howling and yelping of wolves. Presently the moon rose beyond the far-extending prairie, and showed us a wood on one side, with a number of large birds flitting to and fro, or hovering about the fire.

“Some one lies there, depend upon it,” said Lejoillie. “Those birds, like the wolves, gather only to feed on the dead.”

We galloped forward. On the ground before the fire lay the body of a man, with an arrow sticking in his breast. If dead, he was only just so, for the savage brutes had not yet commenced their banquet. As we approached they retreated, still howling, to a distance. I threw myself from my horse, oppressed by a terrible dread that the body was that of my cousin. A glance at the features, on which the light of the fire fell, convinced me of the sad fact. It seemed as if only just then the breath had left his body, for it was still warm. I was joined by Lejoillie, while Tim held the horses.

“We can do nothing for him, I fear,” said my friend, feeling his pulse. “Even had there been life in him, the moment we withdrew the arrow he would have died. Let me warn you it is no safe place; the fellow who killed him may be watching to shoot us. We must be away from this, and it will be time enough to consider as we go along how he came here and met with his death. We will carry him with us to the camp, poor boy, and prevent him being torn to pieces by the wolves.”

Tim was inclined to give way to a howl of sorrow in honour of the young master, but I stopped him. He insisted, however, on carrying the body, as the last mark of respect he could show to my uncle’s son. “It would have broken my heart entirely, Mr Maurice, if it had been you. It’s bad enough, sure, as it is,” he exclaimed, as he placed the inanimate form across his saddle.

We galloped on, feeling that it was more than likely that we should have a flight of arrows whistling after us.

“Sure, as I’m a living man, it’s that villain Black Hawk did the deed!” exclaimed Tim. “I saw the look he gave when he heard that Mr Carlos had killed Spotted Wolf. He had planned the black deed for many a day.”

Lejoillie and I agreed with Tim, though how Carlos came to have been led so far away it was at first difficult to say. Perhaps Black Hawk had induced him to dismount, and then, taking his gun, had galloped off with his horse. Carlos, not being able to find his way back to the camp, had probably lighted a fire to keep off the wolves; and while seated before it, either Black Hawk or some other Indian had shot him. Such was the only way we could account for the position in which we had found him.

Captain Norton was much grieved, and blamed himself greatly for having allowed Black Hawk to accompany Carlos. We dug his grave close to our camp, and spent a portion of the night in piling up logs over it to mark the spot. Though I had before been looking forward to the satisfaction of falling in with my uncle, I now dreaded the meeting and the task I should have to perform of telling him of the death of my cousin. As no more was seen of Black Hawk, we had no doubt that he had committed the deed.

We had now reached as far north as there would be any use in going, as my uncle and his party must have come by this time fully as far south as we then were if they had not already passed us. Though the country was almost in as wild a state as in the southern parts, there were a few log-huts and other primitive buildings scattered about; but the inhabitants had fled for fear of the Indians. Both we and our horses being pretty well tired by a long day’s journey, we took up our quarters in one of these huts. The men were encamped outside, with the usual sentries placed at equal distances; and we had thrown ourselves on the rough tables and benches, the only remaining furniture, when the sound of distant firing reached our ears.

“Sure there’s fightin’ goin’ on!” cried Tim.

We started to our feet. The horses were saddled, the men fell in, and we hastened on, hoping to arrive in time to assist any whites who might be engaged, whether my uncle’s party or others. We had still light enough to see our way, though the sun was near setting. At last we came within sight of another hut of some size, near which the fighting had been taking place, of which we had sad proof by seeing the bodies of three white men stretched on the ground. But their comrades were advancing, driving the enemy before them.

“They will be led into an ambush!” cried Captain Norton; and ordering Tim to halt the men a little in advance of where they then were, he dashed forward to prevent the catastrophe he feared, I was about to follow, when a black, whom I recognised as one of my uncle’s servants, rushed out of the hut.

“Is dat you, Massa Maurice?” he exclaimed. “Whar Massa Carlos? we ’fraid dat his fader die an’ he want bery much to see him. Come in; he in here; come in!”

Giving the reins of my horse to one of the men, I threw myself from the saddle, and hurried into the hut. My uncle lay on a low bedstead covered with straw, while one of his followers stood near him with his rifle in his hand. The black, taking a lamp, led the way to the bed. As the light fell on my uncle’s countenance, I saw that his features were set, and his eyes had lost their expression. I knelt by his side and took his hand: though warm, it failed to return my pressure.

“Speak to me—speak to me, uncle!” I exclaimed, but no reply came.

The black shook his head. “Him gone, massa,” he said; “no ’gain speak.”

I turned to the other man for an explanation.

“He was shot, sir, leading us on against the Redskins. We brought him in here at once to look to his hurt, and when we saw you coming we hoped that you might have a doctor with you; but the bullet had done its work, and he was dead before you entered the hut.”

I was deeply grieved, for I knew how my father would feel the loss of my uncle, who was, however, thus saved the pain of hearing of his son’s death.

I had no time to give way to sorrow, for the rattle of musketry showed me that the fight was still continuing; the shouts and shrieks of the Indians, which came from no greater distance than before, proving that they held their ground. It was not a time for any one with a rifle in his hand to be idle; and bidding the black remain by his master’s body, I called to the other men to accompany me, and hurried out to join my companions. There was barely sufficient light to enable me to distinguish them, but the cracks from their rifles showed where they were posted. Just as I joined them, Captain Norton appeared, and ordered us to charge the enemy, who, as we advanced, broke and, fled. We fired, pouring in a couple of volleys, which brought down several of the Indians, and hastened the flight of the rest. The captain then ordered us to retire to the neighbourhood of the hut, where we could the better defend ourselves should the enemy rally. Had we not arrived, the whole of my uncle’s party would probably have been destroyed; as it was, several had fallen, and we lost two, besides three wounded. We could not ascertain how many of the Indians had been killed, as their friends had carried off most of them. Two or three bodies, however, were still in the open, but at such a distance from our camp that it would have been dangerous to have approached them, for some of the Redskins might be lurking in the wood. As it was more than probable that we should be attacked during the night, one-half of our party remained under arms, while the rest slept with their rifles by their sides, ready for action at a moment’s notice.

I was patrolling with Tim, the moon, high above the trees, casting a bright light over the ground where the fighting had taken place, when Tim exclaimed,—“Arrah! sure, thin, one o’ them Redskins is moving.” I looked in the direction he pointed to, and directly after saw one of the apparently dead Indians rise to his feet and make towards the wood. At the same instant Tim fired. The Indian dropped, and before I could stop my companion he had rushed forward, supposing, I believed, that the man was feigning to be shot, and might still make his escape. He quickly came back, dragging the body after him.

“Sure he’s dead enough now, anyhow; but I thought I’d bring him along to show you who he is. See, it’s Black Hawk, who killed Mr Carlos; he’s got what he deserves for his treacherous murder.”

I at once recognised the features of Black Hawk. That he could not do us further harm was certain; and as no attempt had been made to rescue him, we were satisfied that the enemy had retreated to a distance. Part of the night was spent in the melancholy duty of digging graves, and burying the bodies of my poor uncle and those who had fallen with him, as we could not take them with us, the wounded requiring all the men who could be spared to carry them. The Indians, we hoped, finding us too strong for them, had retreated.

The night passed quietly away, and at early dawn we commenced our march back to Fort King.

Chapter Sixteen.

Arrival at Fort King—We resolve to return to Castle Kearney—On the way to Silver Spring—Anxiety of Juanita—A welcome sound—A message for Rochford—Our voyage down stream—Arrival home—Grief of my aunt—I visit Judge Shurtleff—A party of blacks discovered—I join the Roseville Volunteers—An encounter in the forest—The meeting with Rochford—A dispute—The prisoner before the Judge—At the Castle again—Sad news—My father’s words—The attack and defence of Castle Kearney—Our retreat on the river—Timely help—Reception at Roseville—Return to Ireland—Happiness of my cousins—The last of the Seminoles—Conclusion.

We had a weary march back to Fort King, not knowing at what moment we might be attacked by our persevering foes, who were constantly hovering in our rear; but from the admirable arrangements of the captain, and the vigilant watch kept at night, finding that they could not surprise us, they did not venture on an attack. No attempt during our absence had been made on the fort, although the garrison had been kept constantly on the alert. I need not describe the grief which the news of my uncle and cousin’s death caused to my father and Juanita. They were, of course, now more anxious than ever to get back to Castle Kearney. As the men who had followed my uncle would form a sufficient escort, it was resolved that we should set out for the Ocklawaha River, where we hoped to find boats in which we could descend to the Saint John, and from thence to continue on to Castle Kearney. The point we aimed at was known as the “Silver Spring,” a stream celebrated for the extraordinary transparency of its water, and much venerated in consequence by the Indians. It was supposed, indeed, to be the fountain of youth, of which they spoke to the Spaniards who first visited this country, and induced them to believe that its waters had the power of renovating the most aged, and restoring strength and beauty to the wrinkled and decrepit.

A landing-place, with two or more planked houses, stood on the bank of the stream, which would afford accommodation should they not have been destroyed by the Indians, though the inhabitants had long before made their escape to a less dangerous part of the country. As the whole distance could be performed in little more than a day, it was considered advisable to send forward two scouts, who would ascertain the condition of the place, and whether any Indians still remained in the intervening district.

Three days having passed, and the scouts not making their appearance, we began to fear that they had been cut off, and that we should be doomed to be shut up in the fort for an indefinite period. The commandant was anxious to get rid of us, for we, of course, consumed the stores destined for the garrison. It was with no small relief, therefore, that we saw the two men approaching the fort early on the third day. They brought the satisfactory intelligence that the Government had sent a steam-vessel up the river to the mouth of the Ocklawaha, above which she could not proceed, but that a smaller craft had been despatched up the stream to Silver Spring with stores for the garrison.

As we were prepared for our journey, we lost no time in setting out, accompanied by Captain Norton, who led a party intended to escort back the stores. Juanita was thus even better protected than we had expected. We had been somewhat anxious on her account, lest by some chance the Indian chief should get notice of our intended journey, and make an attempt to cut us off. There was, however, not much chance of his doing so, as it was believed that he was fully occupied with fresh troops sent against him in the north-west; still so wonderful were the means of obtaining information possessed by the Redskins, and so rapid their movements, that it was impossible to say in what direction they might not appear. A road had been cut between the fort and the river, which greatly facilitated our progress; although, not having been used for some time, it was overgrown with long grass and low bushes, which it was necessary in some places to cut away.

My father and I endeavoured to cheer poor Juanita. During all that she had previously gone through, her spirits and courage had never once flagged. Now, she appeared to be sadly despondent. She told me that she had a foreboding that Castle Kearney had been destroyed by the Indians and all within it massacred. I of course tried to persuade her that such fears were without foundation, and that we should find her mother and sister well, with the house standing where we had left it.

“Can you surmise, Maurice, what has become of Mr Rochford?” she asked suddenly, showing that, at all events, she had not forgotten our friend, who had so gallantly rescued her from the Indians.

“I am constantly thinking on the subject, and wondering why he does not appear,” I answered. “My father is as puzzled as I am; but we are certain no unworthy motive keeps him away. I can only conjecture that he has either gone to try and induce Oceola to make such offers to the Government as he thinks will be accepted, or else he has returned to the black fugitives with a view of benefiting them in some way or other. Whatever he may be doing, I have no doubt that he is influenced by good motives, although his plans may not be so feasible as he supposes.”

“Of that I am very sure!” exclaimed Juanita, warmly. “I did not understand your friend when he was at Castle Kearney, and I thought him very presumptuous; but I have since learned to appreciate him as he deserves.”

I thought it better to make no answer to this remark of my fair cousin. I could only say that I hoped Rochford would escape the dangers to which he was exposed, and reappear some day or other.

We camped at night in a secure position, fully one-third of our force being under arms, so that should any savages attempt to surprise us, they would be kept in check until we were ready to repel them.

It was not until nearly the end of the next day that we saw the bright waters of the “Silver Spring” glittering through the trees. On reaching the buildings, we found that, although empty, they were uninjured. The Indians, if they had visited them, had perhaps looked upon them as temples built in honour of the spirit presiding over their sacred spring. No boats, however, were there; and unless some should arrive, we should be obliged to construct rafts or canoes to carry us down the river. To stay where we were without provisions was impossible: although we might shoot birds and perhaps deer in the neighbourhood, yet we dared not exhaust our ammunition. The scouts told us that they had received the information they had brought from a canoe which had been sent up to ascertain if any Indians were in the neighbourhood, and that it had afterwards returned down the river.

Lejoillie and I offered to go down, if we could obtain a canoe, to learn what had happened; but though we searched about in every direction, none could be found. Dawn had just broken, when one of the sentries announced that he saw a thin column of smoke over the trees in the direction in which the stream ran.

Presently afterwards we heard a peculiar sound, which we all declared must be produced by the paddle-wheels of a steamer. A cheer rose from us when a curious craft, with high paddle-boxes, and machinery rising above her deck, hove in sight, and came gliding up the stream. She brought the greatly required stores for the fort; and the skipper undertook to convey the whole of our party down the stream to the man-of-war steamer waiting her return. He relieved poor Juanita’s fears in regard to Castle Kearney, by assuring her that the house still stood uninjured, and that it had not been attacked by the Indians.

We were very sorry to have to part with Captain Norton, who had to return to the fort. He promised to pay a visit to Castle Kearney as soon as his duties would allow. He also assured me that he would not fail to try and induce Rochford to rejoin us.

“Should you be able to send him a message, you may hint that he will not find my cousin Juanita quite as hard-hearted as he once supposed; indeed, I suspect that she would break her heart should any harm befall him,” I whispered.

I cannot fully describe the varied beauties of the stream, bordered by picturesque woods festooned with graceful creepers, many of them producing rich blossoms of many hues. At night we proceeded, lighted by pitch-pine-torches stuck in the bows of the vessel, which cast a lurid glare on either bank, scaring the numberless alligators which ever and anon put their heads above the surface of the water. At times I fancied that I could see the figures of Indian warriors brandishing their spears, and handling their bows ready to shoot at us; but the next moment they changed into bushes or the distorted trunks of trees.

After a voyage of some miles, with the current in our favour, we found ourselves alongside the Government steamer which waited the return of the boat. As I stepped on her deck, I enjoyed a sense of security which I had not enjoyed for many months. We heard sad news, however. Fearful atrocities had been committed by the Indians in different parts of the country—farm-houses attacked, their inhabitants massacred, and whole villages destroyed. The romantic admiration with which I had been inclined to regard the red men was completely dissipated; though I was compelled to acknowledge that, barbarous as was their conduct, they had been cruelly treated, and had bitter wrongs to avenge.

The distance which had taken us so long a time when we came up the river was quickly got over, although we had to stop at several places to take persons on board who had escaped from the Indian massacres. Our party, with the remainder of my uncle’s followers, were landed at Castle Kearney. My aunt and Rita had bravely held out, notwithstanding the advice they had received to abandon the house. My father broke to them, as gently as possible, the sad intelligence we brought, as poor Juanita was utterly unable to do so.

Donna Maria, it seemed to me, would never get over it. For many days and nights her daughters, overcoming their own anxieties, were in constant attendance on her.

The poor girls, though they mourned for their father and brother, were, I knew, troubled about Rochford and Captain Norton. Lejoillie had gone on, as he said, to finish his visit to Judge Shurtleff at Roseville, that settlement being one of the very few which had escaped an attack from the Indians, owing to the due precautions taken by the inhabitants.

Several weeks passed away. Donna Maria appeared to be slowly recovering; but it was evident that she still remained in a very precarious condition. The judge and Mrs Shurtleff kindly sent up to invite one or both of my cousins and me to pay them a visit. They, however, declined the invitation, being unwilling to leave their mother. My father, guessing that I was getting somewhat weary of being shut up within the narrow boundary of the little island, advised me to return in the boat which brought the messenger, but desiring me to come back again in a few days, lest he should require my services. He had not expected to remain so long in the country, but while Donna Maria continued so ill, he was unwilling to speak about their arrangements for the future. I accordingly set off, and arriving at Roseville was received very kindly by the judge and his wife, who had heard as much of our adventures as Lejoillie was able to give them. They spoke in great admiration of the gallant way in which Rochford had rescued Juanita.

“Brave fellow! noble fellow!” exclaimed the judge. “I only wish that he had got over his somewhat wild notions of helping the Indians and negroes. He can do them no good, and will only run a great risk of getting into trouble himself.”

“He would not have gained that influence over them which enabled him to rescue my cousin, if he had not attempted to help the Indians,” I observed. “Probably no other white man in the country could have done so. I only wish that he was safe back again here or at Castle Kearney.”

I found Lejoillie very busy in obtaining specimens of natural history; but he ran a great risk, in his excursions, of being caught and scalped by any Indians who might be prowling about. The Roseville militia were, however, always on the alert.

I had nearly stayed out my time at the judge’s, when a hunter belonging to the place, who, notwithstanding the unsettled state of the country, continued the pursuit of game, often at long distances from the settlement, brought word that he had come upon the lately-deserted camp of a considerable body of Indians or blacks. He suspected, he said, from the numerous bones of deer and fowl scattered about, that they were provided with fire-arms and might have some evil intentions towards the settlement. He had followed up the trail, and found them again encamped, but had not ventured near enough to ascertain their numbers and character. He advised, therefore, that a party should be sent out to surprise and disperse them, which he was of opinion could easily be done by surrounding their camp at night. When I heard this account, I was almost convinced that the party were those blacks who had placed themselves under Rochford, and that he, of course, would not permit them to injure the settlers. I did not, however, feel sufficiently certain that Rochford was with them to allow me to express this opinion; but I begged permission to accompany the expedition, which was willingly granted me. It was not expected to last many days, and I hoped still to get back before I was wanted by my father. The Roseville Rifles, commanded by Captain Seth Nockelles, to whom I was introduced by the judge, wore as uniform broad-brimmed straw hats and shooting-jackets, with belts round their waists, in which they stuck their bowie-knives and pistols, while they carried their long rifles slung across their backs. We took with us several powerful blood-hounds, such as I have before described.

I have already given so many accounts of marches through the country, that I must not fill up my journal with a description either of the scenery or the adventures we met with. At this time a strong force of regular troops had compelled the Indians to evacuate the eastern part of the country, and had, it was supposed, driven the larger number westward, so that we did not expect to meet the enemy in any considerable force. We therefore advanced with confidence, though we sent out scouts, as usual, to avoid the risk of being surprised. We had thus pushed on for four or five days, when one of the scouts brought word that he saw the smoke of a fire ascending apparently from the midst of a thick wood, which was, in his opinion, very likely to shelter an enemy. It was considered advisable, therefore, to enter cautiously, feeling our way as we advanced. As we got to the borders, the dogs were loosened and sent in, and we followed knowing that they would give us timely notice should they come upon an enemy. We had not got far when we heard several shots; but no bullets came near us.

“The dogs must have shown themselves, and, depend upon it, those shots were aimed at them,” observed our leader. “Come on, lads! or the rebels will be making their escape by the other side of the wood, and we shall have no chance of meeting them.”

We accordingly pushed on through the dense foliage, Captain Nockelles, a hardy backwoodsman, leading. Soon I caught sight of a couple of blacks, and a white man with a pistol in his hand standing before them, while two of the blood-hounds lay dead at his feet. The blacks held their rifles ready for action. On seeing the white man, our captain, refraining from firing as I thought he would do, shouted out—

“Who are you?”

“A friend!” answered the stranger, stepping forward, when what was my surprise to recognise Rochford, though no longer in hunter’s guise, but dressed as he was when staying at Roseville. The blacks had in the meantime lowered their weapons, but showed no inclination to follow their leader.

“What brought you here, my fine fellow?” exclaimed the militia captain, looking hard at Rochford.

“I was on my way to Roseville, with my two attendants; and if you mean to return there soon, I shall be very glad to accompany you,” answered Rochford.

“You cannot expect us to believe that story,” cried the captain; “but whether you do or do not, you and your black fellows must go back with us to Roseville, and we shall then find out who you and they are. My idea is that they are runaway slaves, and that you are the Britisher who, it is said, has been encouraging them.”

As he said this, he turned round and ordered some of his men to arrest the blacks, who suddenly sprung back, and disappeared behind a thicket.

“Tell those fellows to stop,” cried the captain to Rochford.

“They are free agents, and I cannot interfere with their movements,” answered the latter.

“What should you say if we were to hang you on the next tree for refusing?” exclaimed the captain. “Call them back, I say, or take the consequences.”

“Even though I wished to do so, I have no right to exercise any influence over them. If you hang me you will be guilty of murder. I am perfectly ready to go with you, and will give you my word of honour that I will do so without attempting to escape,” replied our friend calmly.

The captain, notwithstanding what Rochford had said, became more violent; and fearing that he would proceed to extremities, I thought it time to interfere, so stepping forward, I said—

“I know this gentleman, and I am very sure that he has no intention of committing any illegal act. Judge Shurtleff is also well acquainted with him; as is Captain Norton, to whom he is related.”

“All very fine, Mr Kearney; but people don’t go about the country with a troop of blacks at their heels without intending mischief. If he won’t order those negroes to give themselves up, we must try and catch them. If we can’t do so, it will have a very ugly look for him.”

But the blacks were active and cunning, and knew the country, which was more than their pursuers did. The latter, after a long chase, came back declaring that not a nigger could they find, and swearing at the trouble which had been given them.

So angry were they with Rochford, that had I not energetically interfered, it would have gone hard with him. I at length, however, persuaded the captain to carry him before Judge Shurtleff. The party indeed were anxious to get out of the wood as soon as possible, for we had already gone further in pursuit of the supposed rebels than was intended; and as no other camp could be found in the neighbourhood besides the small one lately formed by Rochford and his attendants, our leader was pretty well satisfied that it would be useless to continue the search. In spite of my representations, he treated Rochford as a prisoner, making him march between two armed men, who were ordered to shoot him should he attempt to run away. When we halted at night, greatly to my indignation, they lashed his arms behind him, so that he could neither sit nor lie down with any comfort.

Rochford bore this ill-treatment without complaint. “Thus end all my schemes for the amelioration of the red and black races of this hapless country,” he said to me, as I was sitting near him, which I was allowed to do. “I found them very different, I confess, to what I expected. With some noble qualities, the Indians are savage in the extreme; and the blacks must be educated before they are fit to take care of themselves. I have, however, more hope of them than I have of the Indians.”

I was not sorry to hear Rochford say this, as I trusted that he would now be induced to abandon his wild schemes, and turn his attention to a more profitable employment of his time.

Captain Nockelles, who was exceedingly vexed at the escape of the blacks, refused, notwithstanding my representations, to set my friend at liberty. I undertook to be answerable for his making no attempt to escape; but all I could say had no effect, and Rochford was kept with his arms pinioned, unless when two men were standing by him with loaded rifles in their hands. Our journey was therefore a far from pleasant one. Rochford found it very disagreeable; and I felt greatly annoyed at the way he was treated; but as I should have been accused of mutiny had I made any further attempt to get him released, I was obliged, as he was, to submit. He begged me not to make myself unhappy about him.

“It will be over in a few days,” he remarked; “and I trust I shall be able to exonerate myself from the absurd charges which may be brought against me. The very fact that I had assumed a civilised costume, proves that I was about to return to the settlement. Had I been captured dressed as a hunter, at the head of a party of blacks or Indians, my conduct might have been open to suspicion.”

I was very glad when at last the buildings of Roseville appeared in sight; though somewhat annoyed when Captain Nockelles ordered me to remain with the main body, while he took his prisoner, under charge of a guard, before Judge Shurtleff. I begged to go likewise, urging that there was no possible reason why I should remain behind, when I had not even a command in the regiment. At last, not having the face longer to refuse me, he consented, and I followed the party which had gone on before.

Our old friend was seated in his judicial chair, at a small table, with pen, ink, and paper before him. I arrived just in time to hear him say, “A rebel caught in the very act. Bring him in—bring him in.” And Rochford, with Captain Nockelles on one side, and a guard armed with a brace of pistols on the other advanced towards the table.

“What! a white man having the audacity to induce blacks to rebel against the authority of the State!” exclaimed the judge not recognising him. “What have you to say to this accusation?”

Rochford seemed to have an idea that the judge intended to ignore any former acquaintance with him, and replied—

“It has not been proved that I am a rebel; and I certainly had no intention of committing any act contrary to the laws of the United States.”

“Bless my heart! are you my friend Rochford?” exclaimed the judge, jumping up, almost overturning the table in his eagerness to shake hands. “Gentlemen, there is some mistake here. Mr Rochford came out with me from England, and I know him to be a thoroughly honest and excellent young man. He cannot possibly be guilty of the crime of which you charge him. Set him at liberty immediately. These ropes must make him feel very uncomfortable.” And the judge commenced pulling away at the knots, not thereby expediting his object; which Captain Nockelles, finding he had made a mistake, very quickly accomplished. The judge then shook Rochford warmly by the hand. “I am very sure that our friend here will be able to give a satisfactory account of himself, although he might not have been inclined to explain matters when he found himself treated as he has been. You’ll come and dine with me, Captain Nockelles, and I will hear all about it. You will meet the great naturalist Lejoillie, who knows Mr Rochford as well as I do, and who will, I am sure, answer for his being a person of high character, and not at all likely to commit any act unworthy of a man of honour.—Oh! there’s my friend Kearney. Glad to see you back, my boy. You’ll join us. I must then send you to Castle Kearney, as your father is anxious to have you back to assist in looking after your young cousins, who, poor girls, will not only have to mourn the loss of their father and brother, but of their mother also, of whose life, I fear, there is but little hope.”

I was very sorry to receive this latter piece of information, though it did not prevent me joining the party at the judge’s dinner-table, where Rochford was seated as an honoured guest, instead of being, as his captors expected, sent off to the State prison. Little Paul was brought in after dinner, and the company were informed of the gallant way in which Rochford had saved his life at the hazard of his own.

My friend gave us an account of his adventures among the Indians and blacks, which fully satisfied the patriotic militia captain that he had no hostile intentions towards the Government of the United States.

After dinner, I found that a boat was in readiness to carry me to Castle Kearney.

“Our friend Rochford will, I suspect, be happy to accompany you,” said the judge. “It will be as well for him to get out of this place, in case any disagreeable gentlemen should take it into their heads that he has been too leniently dealt with. And, in truth, the sooner he leaves the country, perhaps, the better; though we shall be delighted to see him back again when affairs are more settled, and this Seminole war has been brought to a close.”

I was not exactly surprised to find that Rochford was very willing to follow the judge’s advice.

Wishing the judge, his wife, and their friends good-bye, we embarked shortly before sunset, and were able to continue our journey at night without difficulty. As we approached Castle Kearney, we were hailed by a voice which I recognised as that of Tim Flanagan, who was keeping watch on the castle walls. On hearing my reply, he quickly descended to the little postern-gate to admit us.

“Sure, I’m glad to see you back, Mr Maurice, and you, Mr Rochford, though I’ve bad news to welcome you with about the misthress. She’s gone, sir, she’s gone. An’ the young ladies are in a sad way; so that the captain finds it a hard matter to comfort them, an’ he’ll be glad to have you to help him.”

On ascending to the upper floor, we met my father, who gave a cordial welcome to Rochford. My aunt, he told us, had died that morning, never having recovered from the loss of her husband and son. The young ladies bore up as well as could be expected, and he hoped that we should be able to assist in consoling them. Notwithstanding the report that the Indians had been driven westward, he considered it prudent to maintain a strict watch in the castle, lest another attempt might be made by her Indian admirer to carry off Juanita.

“I congratulate myself on having come to assist you, sir,” said Rochford. “Although, when I first came to the country, my wish was to benefit the natives, I would treat them as my worst enemies should they make so audacious an attempt.”

“I will trust you, Mr Rochford,” said my father, smiling.

Our friend insisted on taking his turn as one of the sentries, and I felt very sure that the castle would not be surprised during his watch.

Early in the morning after our arrival my poor aunt was interred in the centre of the garden, as there was no grave-yard near to which she could be carried.

My father was now very anxious to return home as soon as possible, and he invited my two cousins, according to their father’s wish, to accompany him. Juanita was willing enough to go, but Rita showed much disinclination to leave Florida, though, at the same time, she had no wish to be separated from her sister. My father explained that by his brother’s will he had no choice in the matter. He must either take them with him, or remain with them in the country. The property, however, could only be disposed of at a great loss while the troubles with the Indians continued. He proposed, therefore, returning in the course of two or three years to settle their affairs. This arrangement somewhat satisfied Rita, though she still implored me to try and persuade my father to remain. I, as may be supposed, was very willing to do so, as I liked the country, and hoped to meet with more adventures. Rochford was quite ready to remain, for he had every reason to believe that he had won Juanita’s affections. How my father might ultimately have acted I cannot say, for matters were settled in a way we little expected. The sun had set, and we were seated at supper—the pleasantest meal of the day in that hot climate. My cousins had somewhat recovered their spirits, and Rochford was doing his utmost to make himself agreeable, when Tim walked into the room, rifle in hand, with his usual military air, and making a salute, said—

“Capt’n, if ye please, step up to the gallery on the west side an’ take a look-out. I was peering over the drawbridge, when I caught sight of some creatures moving among the plantations; either they’re wolves or Injins.”

“Indians!” we exclaimed in chorus, my father, Rochford, and I jumping up.

“Do not allow honest Tim’s report to alarm you,” said Rochford to my cousins; “he has very likely mistaken a few stray cattle for an army of Indians. At all events, let me entreat you to remain quietly here until we ascertain the true state of the case.”

I repeated what Rochford said, and then hurried up to the gallery, where I found my father and Tim, with three or four of the other men. They were crouching down so as not to expose themselves to the view of those below. Rochford and I, doing the same, looked through the loopholes left for the purpose. Though the night was somewhat dark, by watching attentively we could distinguish a number of figures darting here and there among the trees, making their way towards us, evidently endeavouring, if possible, to keep themselves concealed as much as possible from sight.

“That these are Indians I have no doubt, and also that they have come here with hostile intent; so we must be prepared for them,” whispered my father.—“Rochford, I leave you in charge of the gallery; do not fire, however, until the enemy show an intention of attacking the house.—Maurice, I must leave you and Tim, with two hands, to work the guns above the entrance. I will station the other men where they can best defend the approaches.”

All these arrangements were quickly made. It was pretty evident that the Indians fancied that they were undiscovered. We lay down under cover of the balustrade, which was of a thickness impenetrable to bullets. We could distinguish the figures of the Indians, as they emerged from the wood in the distance, stealing nearer and nearer the water which separated us from the mainland. It was very evident that they were in strong force, and fully expected to surprise the castle. We waited for my father’s word to open fire. As yet, indeed, none of those near had shown themselves, being concealed by the shrubs which grew on the farther shore, and which, we were thus shown, ought long ago to have been cut down.

There had been no light on the west side of our house, the windows of the sitting-room opening in the opposite direction, so that probably the Indians supposed we were all fast asleep. We kept a profound silence. The time seemed very long; and had I not been assured that I had seen human beings moving about, I should have fancied that we must have been mistaken.

I was waiting, ready to fire, when I heard the door leading to the platform open. Looking round, I saw my two cousins.

“What is happening?” exclaimed Juanita.

Rita asked a similar question.

“Go back! go back!” I cried out, louder than I ought to have spoken; “the enemy are close at hand.”

Scarcely were the words out of my mouth than an arrow whistled through the air. For a moment the dreadful thought seized me that one of them had been struck; but the missile was quivering in the woodwork above their heads. They quickly retreated, and I heard the door closed behind them. I calculated the spot from which the arrow had been shot, and with the help of my companions, training my gun towards it, fired.

Before the sound had died away, the most fearful yells and shrieks rose from the brushwood before us. Showers of arrows, mingled with bullets, came pinging against the walls, the bright flashes from the Indians’ muskets lighting up the whole shore. Tim was not slow to follow my example; and at the same moment the rest of the garrison began blazing away at our enemies, although it was difficult to distinguish them among the brushwood, behind which they took good care to conceal themselves. We were well sheltered; but this sort of work might continue until the whole of our ammunition was exhausted. Though we had every reason to believe that some of our bullets took effect, it was impossible to ascertain what number of the enemy were killed; their fire, however, did not appear to diminish. They probably calculated on our having no large amount of ammunition, and intended to make their assault when they found our fire slackening. It occurred to me, while I was working away at my gun, that we ought to ascertain what quantity of ammunition we possessed. I asked Tim if he knew.

“Sure there was enough to defend the place for a whole day or more, when we first came here; but I don’t know how much your uncle and his party carried away with them, or whether any has been used since. It is to be hoped the Redskins won’t be any better off than we are in this respect, and will soon get tired of blazing away to no purpose,” he answered.

I was not satisfied, however, and was anxious to go and ascertain, that we might, at all events, reserve some for an emergency.

We had been exchanging fire with the enemy for nearly an hour, when I observed some bright flashes of light circling over our heads.

“Arrah! now, they haven’t got rockets with them?” cried Tim.

“No, these are more dangerous even than rockets,” I answered. “They are sending fiery arrows on to the roof. Should any fall where they cannot be got at, they may set the place in a blaze. I must go and let my father know, as he may not have observed them.”

Making my way to the door so as not to expose myself, I opened it and sprang in. Hurrying down to where my father was directing the men in the lower part of the building, I told him what was taking place. I mentioned also my apprehensions in regard to the limited amount of ammunition we possessed.

“I am afraid you are right, Maurice. We must hope to drive the Indians away before the whole is exhausted,” he answered. “Come with me; we must try to prevent these fire-brands doing any damage.”

We were ascending to the top of the building, when we met my cousins in the passage.

“O uncle! what is happening? Cannot we help you in some way?” exclaimed Juanita.

“Not without more risk than I would desire you to run,” answered my father. “I don’t wish to alarm you, but I would advise you to collect the valuables you possess, so that you may preserve them should it be necessary to leave the house, which the Indians are trying their best to set fire to. They may not succeed; but if they do, it will become untenable. Now, brave girls, do as I bid you, and wait in the room next the garden, so that we may run out quickly if necessary.”

I should have mentioned that there was on the north side of the house a little dock or harbour, in which the boats belonging to the estate were kept. The largest had that very morning been got ready to carry us and our baggage to Roseville, in case we should determine to go; while there were three others sufficient to hold all the people on the island. We had thus, should we be reduced to extremity, the means of escaping.

My father and I now hurried up to the top of the house. While he examined one side, I looked to the other. What was my dismay, as I passed close under the roof, to find our worst fears realised. Already sparks in thick showers were falling down on the north side of the building. Through a small hole I could see the flames flickering up, while the fire was running along the planks with which the roof was lined. I hurried over to tell my father.

“The fire has burst out on the other side also!” he exclaimed; “and I have no hope of extinguishing the flames. No water which we could bring up could do it.”

We had no time to exchange further words, for wreaths of thick smoke were descending, filling the place where we stood, and we had quickly to make our way down to avoid suffocation.

“Call Tim and the men from the guns; they will not be able to serve them much longer,” said my father. “But we must defend the lower story as long as we can. I will prepare your cousins. We shall have but few minutes, I fear, to get away.”

I hurried out to obey my father’s directions, and tell Tim what had happened.

“Let me have but another shot or two at the Redskin rascals. See what they’re about!” he exclaimed.

I looked down, and could distinguish a number of figures dragging forward some long trunks of trees, with which they either intended to form a bridge or float themselves across. Tim and the other men fired, but the Indians did not appear to be disconcerted; indeed, the shot from the small cannon did little more damage than the bullets from the rifles. Had they been placed on a lower level, they would have been much more effective.

Before the guns could be again loaded, sparks in thick showers began to descend from the roof, and unhappily some fell among our cartridges. An explosion followed, severely injuring one of our men. To stay longer where we were would have been madness. We therefore retreated through the door, amidst a volley of bullets and arrows, dragging the poor wounded fellow with us. I told his companion to carry him into the garden, while Tim and I hastened downstairs to assist Rochford; for the men in the lower story were as yet not aware that the building was on fire. When I told them, some showed an inclination to escape; but urged by Rochford, Tim, and me, who set them the example, they continued firing away as before through the loopholes. We could, of course, see but little of what was going on in front of us, but we guessed, by the shouts of the Indians, that they were aware of the progress the flames were making. The hot fire we kept up, however, compelled them to remain under shelter. We were now joined by my father, who ordered me to take four of the men, that we might get the boats ready and the gates opened which enclosed them in the dock. He begged Rochford to take charge of the ladies, while he and Tim remained to the last to cover our retreat, so that the Indians might not discover that we were about to abandon the house, I lost no time in executing his orders, desiring the men to carry along with them their wounded comrade. The Indians were probably not aware that we had the means of escaping. At all events they had not, as far as we could see, succeeded in their attempt to reach the shore of the island, which they might have done on logs of wood, or by swimming across—at the risk, however, of being caught by alligators, had the saurians not been driven to a distance by the noise of the shouts and firing. Just after we had reached the dock, and were getting the oars ready for use, I saw, to my great relief, Rochford and my two cousins approaching, followed by three female servants and several other women, carrying whatever valuable property they could lay hands on.

Already the flames were bursting out from all sides in the upper part of the house. In another minute or two the whole roof would, I feared, come crashing down. I looked anxiously for my father and Tim, but the continued crack of their rifles showed that they were still at their posts.

“Oh, they will be burnt, they will be burnt!” cried my cousins, as they saw the flames rapidly encircling the building.

I was on the point of hastening back to warn them, when Rochford sprang forward.

“I will do it. Get all hands ready for a start;” and before I could answer, he was already half-way across the garden.

I had still much to do. My first care was to place my cousins and the servants in the large boat, and to distribute the women in the others, while I ordered the men on board, and got the gates of the dock opened; which required considerable exertion, as the lower parts had to be forced through the mud which had collected at the bottom. The burning house afforded us light enough for all that was required.

At length the firing ceased. As I turned my eyes towards the building, it seemed as if no one could exist within it, for now, from every story, either flames or smoke were bursting forth. Again and again I looked. Had it not been my duty to remain and protect my cousins, I should not have been able to refrain from hastening back to the house. A cry of dismay rose from my cousins and those around me, when a loud crash was heard, and flames, brighter than before, rose from the centre of the building. The roof had fallen in. I was almost giving way to despair, when I caught sight of several persons hurrying forward from among the trees. At length I recognised my father, Rochford, and Tim among them. They were carrying three wounded men, having, I found, been compelled to abandon the bodies of two others who had fallen. My father and Tim were both wounded, and several others were more or less hurt, but they said nothing.

“On board, my lads, and shove off without delay!—Maurice, do you take charge of one of the boats; and, Tim, go in the other, and tumble overboard all those things if you find that they hamper you. Now, shove off, and give way, boys,” he continued, as he sprang on board the boat into which Rochford had already stepped and taken the stroke oar. I followed as closely as I could; and Tim’s boat brought up the rear. The smaller boats being lighter, we were able to keep good way with the larger.

“Keep up with us, Maurice,” shouted my father; “I took a look around just as I came away, and caught sight of several objects in the distance, which I feel pretty sure are canoes. The Indians have evidently brought them down.”

The island had hitherto concealed us from the enemy; but the blaze of the burning house casting its glare across the water, now revealed us to their sight, as we knew by the shots which dropped into the water astern of us. But we were already too far off to be reached, and I heard Tim cry out—

“Ye’ll spend your powder to no purpose, my boys; so I’d be askin’ ye to reserve your fire until ye can get some one within your reach.”

The effect, however, was to make our crews still further exert themselves.

It was melancholy to see the house, one of the largest in the country, fiercely blazing away. Our only satisfaction was that the Indians would be disappointed, not only of us, but of any booty they might have expected to obtain.

We had still the danger my father apprehended of being pursued; and at length, looking astern, I caught sight of several canoes filled with Indians, on which the bright flames of the burning house cast a ruddy glare and brought them clearly into view.

That they had intended to land on the island and take the castle in the rear I had little doubt; but finding that we had made our escape, they resolved on capturing us. Urged by numerous paddles, they made greater way through the water than we did. We had one advantage over them, however, that, should they approach near, a few bullets would send them to the bottom. They might, however, before this kill or wound many of our party, exposed as we were, crowded together in the open boat.

Our men pulled away for their lives. I told Tim to steer close to me, so that I might place our boat between the savages and that containing my cousins. Unhappily our ammunition was very low. The party who had been defending the house to the last had expended all their powder, and Tim and I, with a few other men, had only two or three rounds a-piece. My father, recollecting this, ordered us not to fire a shot until the enemy came near, and then to aim rather at the canoes than the men; for even should we not sink them, we might compel their crews to cease paddling while they stopped the holes made by our bullets. Brave as the Indians are on land, they are not willing in general to expose themselves; so I was surprised at the daring way in which our pursuers came on. They were getting, indeed, disagreeably near, and I expected every moment to hear my father order us to fire. Of course, even when they should come up to us, we might defend ourselves and beat them off, and our strongly-built boats would then give us an advantage over their light canoes. Still the struggle would be a fearful one. We were hampered by several women and the numerous articles which they had brought.

Already the Indians had begun to fire; but their bullets fell short, their powder probably being none of the best. In a few minutes, however, unless we could sink their canoes, they would be up with us. I tried the effect of one shot; but though I am sure I hit the canoe between wind and water, the Indians in her did not cease paddling; and I was afraid of throwing another shot away by making a second attempt.

I won’t say how I felt—and it was too dark to see the countenances of those in my boat—but I know that they pulled until I thought that the oars would break with the vehemence of their strokes. A few minutes more went by. The enemy were gaining on us, for a couple of shots struck the stern of my boat. In a few more minutes they would be alongside, and then the desperate struggle would begin. When we had discharged our last shots, we should have only the butts of our rifles and our knives with which to defend ourselves against the muskets and axes of the Indians. Just as I was about to despair, a shout, coming from the direction in which we were pulling, greeted our ears.

“Hurrah!” cried Tim; “none but white men could have raised that cry.”

It was repeated, and presently we saw emerging from the darkness several boats, apparently of large size, full of men. On they came, slowly. The Indians must have seen them too; for without waiting to give us a parting salute, they turned round their canoes, and paddled away up the stream as fast as they could go. In another minute we found ourselves up to three boats, each containing a dozen or more men, commanded by Captain Norton, who told us that he had received information of the intention of the Indians to attack Castle Kearney; that his party being too small to intercept them, he had resolved to come by water to our relief as the quickest mode of reaching us. He expressed his regret at not having arrived in time to preserve the house; though it was very doubtful what would have been our fate had he not followed out his idea of coming by water. I heard my cousins assuring him how grateful they were, and they seemed much disappointed when they found that he intended to continue on, and endeavour to punish the enemy for their attack on Castle Kearney. For fear, however, that the Indians might turn round and again attack us, he considered that his duty would allow him to escort us part of the way to Roseville, where he told us the militia were under arms, ready to repel any assault which might be made on the place. At length, with much regret, we saw him and his party proceed up the river, while we continued on our course to Roseville. Here we were received with much kindness and sympathy by the worthy judge and his wife. Our wounded men were looked after, and the rest kindly taken care of by the different inhabitants. We were still, however, not free from anxiety about Captain Norton and his party.

On the evening of the following day he returned, saying that on approaching Castle Kearney, although the house was still burning, he found that the enemy had fled, having evidently been warned by the Indians in the canoes of the approach of a military force. Being unable to land until daylight, he found, on getting ashore, that pursuit was useless.

We were now waiting the arrival of the steamer which was to convey us the first part of the voyage I must pass over several days. Juanita had promised, with my father’s sanction, to become the wife of Rochford soon after our arrival in Ireland; which I was very glad to hear. All doubts about making the journey were now at an end, as we had no house to live in. Rita appeared unusually sad, and although Mrs Shurtleff invited her to remain, she refused to quit her sister. Rita’s spirits, however, suddenly revived; and Juanita told me the next day that her sister had accepted an offer from Captain Norton to marry her as soon as the war was over, and he could with honour retire from the service. Meantime she would be very happy to pay a visit to the Old World and see something of its wonders. With the assistance of our friend the judge, an honest overseer was found, to whose care the estate was left.

At length we arrived safely in Ireland. Juanita fulfilled her promise, and became Mrs Rochford. But nearly three years passed by, and still the Seminoles held out, in spite of the large force brought against them. The history is a sad one, and I would rather not touch upon it. At length we received the satisfactory intelligence from Captain Norton that the war was over; and he soon after arrived to claim Rita as his wife. And I cannot better conclude my narrative than by giving a brief account of the contest as described by him; of the way, melancholy as it was, in which a race of brave aborigines—for I will not call them savages—was finally driven from the territory:—“You remember the Indian Powell, or Oceola, as his countrymen called him. Though not a chief by birth, he was one of their bravest warriors, and was loved and respected as a chieftain. Their nominal head was Omatla. Though not esteemed as a warrior, he was sagacious and crafty. His character being known, the Government won him over, by a bribe of several thousand dollars, to put his name to a treaty which had been prepared. In vain, however, he tried to induce his subordinate chiefs to follow his example. At length a place of meeting was appointed, and Omatla, with those he had won over, appeared. The treaty was spread out on a table before him; he advanced and signed it; but scarcely had he done so than a bullet from Oceola’s rifle pierced his bosom. It was the signal to the rest of the hostile chiefs to fire, and he fell, six more shots having struck him. Oceola and his warriors, springing on their steeds, fled towards the desert, leaving the parchment behind them. It was carried to Washington as a proof that the property had been legally purchased. He who kills a chief, unless forthwith slain, becomes himself leader of the tribe. All the Seminoles, immediately gathering round the standard of Oceola, hailed him as their leader. For six years did the brave chief set our troops at defiance. All sorts of stratagems were employed to capture him, but cunning as he was brave, he avoided them. It was resolved at length to make a last effort; and an officer, whose name I will not mention, undertook to capture Oceola by a stratagem which it is impossible otherwise than to condemn. The chief received notice that the Government were willing to enter into a fair and honourable treaty with him and his people. He too was anxious to terminate the unequal contest. Addressing his chiefs, he expressed his willingness to go forward alone and meet those who had so long proved his relentless foes. To this proposal his friends would not consent; but they finally agreed that he, with four of his principal chiefs and two hundred warriors as a body-guard, should meet the Government agent, Oceola advanced with a flag of truce at the end of a long spear—the only weapon among all the band. Seeing the number of troops in front, he hesitated, when the agent observing this, advanced also, holding a flag of truce. Oceola, to show his confidence in the honour of his former foes, dashed forward, his unarmed followers pressing after him. On either side were thick woods. Suddenly from among them appeared strong bodies of soldiers. Oceola and his party were surrounded. He was dragged from his horse, and he and all his attendants made prisoners. In vain he protested, as indeed did every soldier, that such treachery was unwarrantable. The prize had been obtained. The interests of the public required that Oceola and his chiefs should remain prisoners. Fetters were placed on their limbs, and they were carried off as captives. But such they did not long continue; for accustomed to roam the desert wilds and to breathe the pure air of heaven in untrammelled freedom, they pined within their prison walls. Oceola sunk first; the rest soon followed him to the grave; and with the exception of a few scattered families, the survivors of the Seminoles were compelled to follow the Creeks and Cherokees across the Mississippi.”

We could not help regretting that no attempts had been made to spread the truths of Christianity among the Seminoles, and that a happier fate had not been the destiny of the brave Oceola.

The End.

W.H.G. Kingston

"James Braithwaite, the Supercargo"

Chapter One.

In Search of the “Barbara.”

“What’s the name of the craft you want to get aboard, sir?” asked old Bob, the one-legged boatman, whose wherry I had hired to carry me out to Spithead.

“The Barbara,” I answered, trying to look more at my ease than I felt; for the old fellow, besides having but one leg, had a black patch over the place where his right eye should have been, while his left arm was partially crippled; and his crew consisted of a mite of a boy whose activity and intelligence could scarcely make up for his want of size and strength. The ebb tide, too, was making strong out of Portsmouth Harbour, and a fresh breeze was blowing in, creating a tumbling, bubbling sea at the mouth; and vessels and boats of all sizes and rigs were dashing here and there, madly and without purpose it seemed to me, but at all events very likely to run down the low narrow craft in which I had ventured to embark. Now and then a man-of-war’s boat, with half-a-dozen reckless midshipmen in her, who looked as if they would not have the slightest scruple in sailing over us, would pass within a few inches of the wherry; now a ship’s launch with a party of marines, pulling with uncertain strokes like a huge maimed centipede, would come right across our course and receive old Bob’s no very complimentary remarks; next a boatful of men-of-war’s men, liberty men returning from leave. There was no use saying anything to them, for there wasn’t one, old Bob informed me, but what was “three sheets in the wind,” or “half seas over,”—in other words, very drunk; still, they managed to find their way and not to upset themselves, in a manner which surprised me. Scarcely were we clear of them when several lumbering dockyard lighters would come dashing by, going out with stores or powder to the fleet at Spithead.

Those were indeed busy times. Numerous ships of war were fitting out alongside the quays, their huge yards being swayed up, and guns and stores hoisted on board, gruff shouts, and cries, and whistles, and other strange sounds proceeding from them as we passed near. Others lay in the middle of the harbour ready for sea, but waiting for their crews to be collected by the press-gangs on shore, and to be made up with captured smugglers, liberated gaol-birds, and broken-down persons from every grade of society. Altogether, what with transports, merchantmen, lighters, and other craft, it was no easy matter to beat out without getting athwart hawse of those at anchor, or being run down by the still greater number of small craft under way. Still it was an animated and exciting scene, and all told of active warfare.

On shore the bustle was yet more apparent. Everybody was in movement. Yellow post-chaises conveying young captains of dashing frigates, or admirals’ private secretaries, came whirling through the streets as if the fate of the nation depended on their speed. Officers of all grades, from post-captains with glittering epaulets to midshipmen with white patches on their collars and simple cockades in their hats, were hurrying, with looks of importance, through the streets. Large placards were everywhere posted up announcing the names of the ships requiring men, and the advantages to be obtained by joining them: plenty of prize money and abundance of fighting, with consequent speedy promotion; while first lieutenants, and a choice band of old hands, were near by to win by persuasion those who were protected from being pressed. Jack tars, many with pig-tails, and earrings in their ears, were rolling about the streets, their wives or sweethearts hanging at their elbows, dressed in the brightest of colours, huge bonnets decked with flaunting ribbons on their heads, and glittering brass chains, and other ornaments of glass, on their necks and arms. As I drove down the High Street I had met a crowd surrounding a ship’s gig on wheels. Some fifty seamen or more were dragging it along at a rapid rate, leaping and careering, laughing and cheering. In the stern sheets sat a well-known eccentric post-captain with the yoke lines in his hands, while he kept bending forward to give the time to his crew, who were arranged before him with oars outstretched, making believe to row, and grinning all the time in high glee from ear to ear. It was said that he was on his way to the Admiralty in London, the Lords Commissioners having for some irregularity prohibited him from leaving his ship except in his gig on duty. Whether he ever got to London I do not know.

On arriving at Portsmouth, I had gone to the Blue Posts, an inn of old renown, recommended by my brother Harry, who was then a midshipman, and who had lately sailed for the East India station. It was an inn more patronised by midshipmen and young lieutenants than by post-captains and admirals. I had there expected to meet Captain Hassall, the commander of the Barbara, but was told that, as he was the master of a merchantman, he was more likely to have gone to the Keppel’s Head, at Portsea. Thither I repaired, and found a note from him telling me to come off at once, and saying that he had had to return on board in a hurry, as he found that several of his men had no protection, and were very likely to be pressed, one man having already been taken by a press-gang, and that he was certain to inform against the others. Thus it was that I came to embark at the Common Hard at Portsea, and had to beat down the harbour.

“Do you think as how you’d know your ship when you sees her, sir?” asked old Bob, with a twinkle in his one eye, for he had discovered my very limited amount of nautical knowledge, I suspect. “It will be a tough job to find her, you see, among so many.”

Now I had been on board very often as she lay alongside the quay in the Thames. I had seen all her cargo stowed, knew every bale and package and case; I had attended to the fitting-up of my own cabin, and was indeed intimately acquainted with every part of her interior. But her outside—that was a very different matter, I began to suspect. I saw floating on the sea, far out in the distance, the misty outlines of a hundred or more big ships; indeed, the whole space between Portsmouth and the little fishing village of Ryde seemed covered with shipping, and my heart sank within me at the thought of having to pick out the Barbara among them.

The evening was drawing on, and the weather did not look pleasant; still I must make the attempt. The convoy was expected to sail immediately, and the interests of my employers, Garrard, Janrin and Company, would be sacrificed should the sailing of the ship be delayed by my neglect. These thoughts passed rapidly through my mind and made me reply boldly, “We must go on, at all events. Time enough to find her out when we get there.”

We were at that time near the mouth of the harbour, with Haslar Hospital seen over a low sandbank, and some odd-looking sea-marks on one side, and Southsea beach and the fortifications of Portsmouth, with a church tower and the houses of the town beyond. A line of redoubts and Southsea Castle appeared, extending farther southward, while the smooth chalk-formed heights of Portsdown rose in the distance. As a person suddenly deprived of sight recollects with especial clearness the last objects he has beheld, so this scene was indelibly impressed on my mind, as it was the last near view I was destined to have of old England for many a long day. For the same reason I took a greater interest in old Bob and his boy Jerry than I might otherwise have done. They formed the last human link of the chain which connected me with my native land. Bob had agreed to take my letters back, announcing my safe arrival on board—that is to say, should I ever get there. My firm reply, added to the promise of another five shillings for the trouble he might have, raised me again in his opinion, and he became very communicative.

We tacked close to a buoy off Southsea beach. “Ay, sir, there was a pretty blaze just here not many years ago,” he remarked. “Now I mind it was in ’95—that’s the year my poor girl Betty died—the mother of Jerry there. You’ve heard talk of the Boyne—a fine ship she was, of ninety-eight guns. While she, with the rest of the fleet, was at anchor at Spithead, one morning a fire broke out in the admiral’s cabin, and though officers and men did their best to extinguish it, somehow or other it got the upper hand of them all; but the boats from the other ships took most of them off, though some ten poor fellows perished, they say. One bad part of the business was, that the guns were all loaded and shotted, and as the fire got to them they went off, some of the shots reaching Stokes Bay, out there beyond Haslar, and others falling among the shipping. Two poor fellows aboard the Queen Charlotte were killed, and another wounded, though she and the other ships got under way to escape mischief. At about half-past one she burnt from her cables, and came slowly drifting in here till she took the ground. She burnt on till near six in the morning, when the fire reached the magazine, and up she blew with an awful explosion. We knew well enough that the moment would come, and it was a curious feeling we had waiting for it. Up went the blazing masts and beams and planks, and came scattering down far and wide, hissing into the water; and when we looked again after all was over, not a timber was to be seen.”

Bob also pointed out the spot where nearly a century before the Edgar had blown up, and every soul in her had perished, and also where the Royal George and the brave Admiral Kempenfeldt, with eight hundred men, had gone down several years before the destruction of the Boyne. “Ay, sir, to my mind it’s sad to think that the sea should swallow up so many fine fellows as she does every year, and yet we couldn’t very well do without her, so I suppose it’s all right. Mind your head-sheets, Jerry, or she’ll not come about in this bobble,” he observed, as we were about to tack round the buoy.

Having kept well to the eastward, we were now laying up to windward of the fleet. There were line-of-battle ships, and frigates, and corvettes, and huge Indiamen as big-looking as many line-of-battle ships, and large transports, and numberless merchantmen—ships and barques, and brigs and schooners; but as to what the Barbara was like I had not an idea. I fixed on one of the largest of the Indiamen, but when I told old Bob the tonnage of the Barbara he laughed, and said she wasn’t half the size of the ship I pointed out.

It was getting darkish and coming on to blow pretty fresh, and how to find my ship among the hundred or more at anchor I could not possibly tell.

“Well, I thought from your look and the way you hailed me that you was a sea-faring gentleman, and on course you’d ha’ known your own ship,” said old Bob, with a wink of his one eye. “Howsomever, we can beat about among the fleet till it’s dark, and then back to Portsmouth; and then, do ye see, sir, we can come out to-morrow morning by daylight and try again. Maybe we shall have better luck. The convoy is sure not to sail in the night, and the tide won’t serve till ten o’clock at earliest.”

“This comes of dressing in nautical style, and assuming airs foreign to me,” I thought to myself, though I could not help fancying that there was some quiet irony in the old man’s tone. His plan did not at all suit my notions. I was already beginning to feel very uncomfortable, bobbing and tossing about among the ships; and I expected to be completely upset, unless I could speedily put my foot on something more stable than the cockleshell, or rather bean-pod, of a boat in which I sat. I began to be conscious, indeed, that I must be looking like anything but “a sea-faring gentleman.”

“But we must find her,” I exclaimed, with some little impetuosity; “it will never do to be going back, and I know she’s here.”

“So the old woman said as was looking for her needle in the bundle of hay,” observed old Bob, with provoking placidity. “On course she is, and we is looking for her: but it’s quite a different thing whether we finds her or not, ’specially when it gets dark; and if, as I suspects, it comes on to blow freshish there’ll be a pretty bobble of a sea here at the turn of the tide. To be sure, we may stand over to Ryde and haul the boat up there for the night. There’s a pretty decentish public on the beach, the Pilot’s Home, where you may get a bed, and Jerry and I always sleeps under the wherry. That’s the only other thing for you to do, sir, that I sees on.”

Though very unwilling to forego the comforts of my cabin and the society of Captain Hassall, I agreed to old Bob’s proposal, provided the Barbara was not soon to be found. We sailed about among the fleet for some time, hailing one ship after another, but mine could not be found. I began to suspect at last that old Bob did not wish to find her, but had his eye on another day’s work, and pay in proportion, as he might certainly consider that he had me in his power, and could demand what he chose. I was on the point of giving up the search, when, as we were near one of the large Indiamen I have mentioned, a vessel running past compelled us to go close alongside. An officer was standing on the accommodation-ladder, assisting up some passengers. He hailed one of the people in the boat, about some luggage. I knew the voice, and, looking more narrowly, I recognised, I thought, my old schoolfellow, Jack Newall. I called him by name. “Who’s that?” he exclaimed. “What, Braithwaite, my fine fellow, what brings you out here?”

When I told him, “It is ten chances to one that you pick her out to-night,” he answered. “But come aboard; I can find you a berth, and to-morrow morning you can continue your search. Depend on it your ship forms one of our convoy, so that she will not sail without you.”

I was too glad to accept Jack Newall’s offer. Old Bob looked rather disappointed at finding me snatched from his grasp, and volunteered to come back early in the morning, and take me on board the Barbara, promising in the meantime to find her out.

The sudden change from the little boat tumbling about in the dark to the Indiaman’s well-lighted cuddy, glittering with plate and glass, into which my friend introduced me—filled, moreover, as it was, with well-dressed ladies and gentlemen—was very startling. She was the well-known Cuffnells, a ship of twelve hundred tons, one of the finest of her class, and, curiously enough, was the very one which, two voyages before, had carried my brother Frederick out to India.

I had never before been on board an Indiaman. Everything about her seemed grand and ponderous, and gave me the idea of strength and stability. If she was to meet with any disaster, it would not be for want of being well found. The captain remembered my brother, and was very civil to me; and several other people knew my family, so that I spent a most pleasant evening on board, in the society of the nabobs and military officers, and the ladies who had husbands and those who had not, but fully expected to get them at the end of the voyage, and the young cadets and writers, and others who usually formed the complement of an Indiaman’s passengers in those days. Everything seemed done in princely style on board her. She had a crew of a hundred men, a captain, and four officers, mates, a surgeon, and purser; besides midshipmen, a boatswain, carpenter, and other petty officers. I was invited to come on board whenever there was an opportunity during the voyage.

“We are not cramped, you see,” observed Newall, casting his eye over the spacious decks, “so you will not crowd us; and if you cannot bring us news, we can exchange ideas.”

True to his word, old Bob came alongside the next morning, and told me that he had found out the Barbara, and would put me on board in good time for breakfast.

I found Captain Hassall very anxious at my non-appearance, and on the point of sending the second officer on shore to look for me, as it was expected that the convoy would sail at noon; indeed, the Active frigate, which was to convoy us, had Blue Peter flying at her mast-head, as had all the merchantmen.

“You’d have time to take a cruise about the fleet, and I’ll spin you no end of yarns if you like to come, sir,” said old Bob, with a twinkle in his eye, as his wherry was see-sawing alongside in a manner most uncomfortable to a landsman.

“No, thank you, Bob; I must hear the end of your yarns when I come back again to old England; I’ll not forget you, depend on it.”

Captain Hassall had not recovered his equanimity of temper, which had been sorely ruffled at having had two of his best men taken off by a press-gang. He had arrived on board in time to save two more who would otherwise also have been taken. He inveighed strongly against the system, and declared that if it was continued he would give up England and go over to the United States. It certainly created a very bad feeling both among officers and men in the merchant service. While we were talking, the frigate which was to convoy us loosed her topsails and fired a gun, followed soon after by another, as a signal to way. The merchantmen at once began to make sail, not so quick an operation as on board the man-of-war. The pipe played cheerily, round went the capstan, and in short time we, with fully fifty other vessels, many of them first-class Indiamen, with a fair breeze, were standing down Channel; the sky bright, the sea blue, while their white sails, towering upwards to the heavens, shone in the sunbeams like pillars of snow.

The Barbara proved herself a fast sailer, and could easily keep up with our Active protector, which kept sailing round the majestic-looking but slow-moving Indiamen, as if to urge them on, as the shepherd’s dog does his flock. We hove-to off Falmouth, that other vessels might join company. Altogether, we formed a numerous convoy—some bound to the Cape of Good Hope, others to different parts of India—two or three to our lately-established settlements in New South Wales, and several more to China.

I will not dwell on my feelings as we took our departure from the land, the Lizard lights bearing north half east. I had a good many friends to care for me, and one for whom I had more than friendship. We had magnificent weather and plenty of time to get the ship into order; indeed I, with others who had never been to sea, began to entertain the notion that we were to glide on as smoothly as we were then doing during the whole voyage. We were to be disagreeably undeceived. A gale sprang up with little warning about midnight, and hove us almost on our beam-ends; and though we righted with the loss only of a spar or two, we were tumbled about in a manner subversive of all comfort, to say the least of it.

When morning broke, the hitherto trim and well-behaved fleet were scattered in all directions, and several within sight received some damage or other. The wind fell as quickly as it had risen, and during the day the vessels kept returning to their proper stations in the convoy. When night came on several were still absent, but were seen approaching in the distance. Our third mate had been aloft for some time, and when he came into the cabin he remarked that he had counted more sail in the horizon than there were missing vessels. Some of the party were inclined to laugh at him, and inquired what sort of craft he supposed they were, phantom ships or enemy’s cruisers.

“I’ll tell you what, gentlemen,—I think that they are very probably the latter,” said the captain. “I have known strange things happen; vessels cut out at night from the midst of a large convoy, others pillaged and the crews and passengers murdered, thrown overboard, or carried off. We shall be on our guard, and have our guns loaded, and if any gentry of this sort attempt to play their tricks on us they will find that they have caught a tartar.”

Chapter Two.

The Fight.

I may as well here give an account of the Barbara, and how I came to be on board her. Deprived of my father, who was killed in battle just as I was going up to the University, and left with very limited means, I was offered a situation as clerk in the counting-house of a distant relative, Mr Janrin. I had no disinclination to mercantile pursuits. I looked on them, if carried out in a proper spirit, as worthy of a man of intellect, and I therefore gladly accepted the offer. As my mother lived in the country, my kind cousin invited me to come and reside with him, an advantage I highly appreciated. Everything was conducted in his house with clock-work regularity. If the weather was rainy, his coach drew up to the door at the exact hour; if the weather was fine, the servant stood ready with his master’s spencer, and hat, and gloves, and gold-headed cane, without which Mr Janrin never went abroad. Not that he required it to support his steps, but it was the mark of a gentleman. It had superseded the sword which he had worn in his youth. I soon got to like these regular ways, and found them far pleasanter than the irregularity of some houses where I had visited. I always accompanied Mr Janrin when he walked, and derived great benefit from his conversation, and though he offered me a seat in the coach in bad weather, I saw that he was better pleased when I went on foot. “Young men require exercise, and should not pamper themselves,” he observed; “but, James, I say, put a dry pair of shoes in your pocket—therein is wisdom; and don’t sit in your wet ones all day.”

Thus it will be seen that I was treated by my worthy principal from the first as a relative, and a true friend he was to me. But I was introduced into the mysteries of mercantile affairs by Mr Gregory Thursby, the head clerk. He lived over the counting-house, and on my first appearance in it, before any of the other clerks had arrived, he was there to receive me. He took me round to the different desks, and explained the business transacted at each of them. “And there, Mr James, look there,” he said, pointing to a line of ponderous folios on a shelf within easy distance of where he himself sat: “see, we have Swift’s works, a handsome edition too, eh!” and he chuckled as he spoke.

“Why, I fancied that they were ledgers,” said I. “Ha! ha! ha! so they are, and yet Swift’s works, for all that, those of my worthy predecessor, Jeremiah Swift, every line in them written by his own hand, in his best style; so I call them Swift’s works. You are not the first person by a great many I have taken in. Ha! ha! ha!”

This was one of the worthy man’s harmless conceits. He never lost an opportunity of indulging in the joke to his own amusement; and I remarked that he laughed as heartily the last time he uttered it as the first.

I set to work diligently at once on the tasks given me, and was rewarded by the approving remarks of Mr Janrin and Mr Thursby. Mr Garrard had long ago left, not only the business but this world; the “Co.” was his nephew, Mr Luttridge, who was absent on account of ill-health, and thus the whole weight of the business rested on the shoulders of Mr Janrin. But, as Thursby remarked, “He can well support it, Mr James. He’s an Atlas. It’s my belief that he would manage the financial affairs of this kingdom better than any Chancellor of the Exchequer, or other minister of State, past or present; and that had he been at the head of affairs we should not have lost our North American Colonies, or have got plunged over head and ears in debt as we are, alack! already; and now, with war raging and all the world in arms against us, getting deeper and deeper into the mire.” Without holding my worthy principal in such deep admiration as our head clerk evidently did, I had a most sincere regard and respect for him.

Our dinner hour was at one o’clock, in a room over the office. Mr Janrin himself presided, and all the clerks, from the highest to the lowest, sat at the board. Here, however, on certain occasions, handsome dinners were given at a more fashionable hour to any friends or correspondents of the house who might be in London. Mr Thursby took the foot of the table, and I was always expected to be present. At length I completed two years of servitude in the house, and by that time was thoroughly up to all the details of business. I had been very diligent. I had never taken a holiday, and never had cause to absent myself from business on account of ill-health. On the very day I speak of we had one of the dinners mentioned. The guests were chiefly merchants or planters from the West Indies, with a foreign consul or two, and generally a few masters of merchantmen. The guests as they arrived were announced by Mr Janrin’s own servant, Peter Klopps, who always waited on these occasions. Peter was himself a character. He was a Dutchman. Mr Janrin had engaged his services many years before during a visit to Holland. He had picked Peter out of a canal, or Peter had picked him out, on a dark night—I never could understand which had rendered the service to the other; at all events, it had united them ever afterwards, and Peter had afterwards nursed his master through a long illness, and saved his life. The most important secrets of State might have been discussed freely in Peter’s presence. First, he did not understand a word that was said, and then he was far too honest and discreet to have revealed it if he had.

Several people had been announced. Ten minutes generally brought the whole together. I caught the name of one—Captain Hassall. He was a stranger, a strongly-built man with a sunburnt countenance and bushy whiskers; nothing remarkable about him, except, perhaps, the determined expression of his eye and mouth. His brow was good, and altogether I liked his looks, and was glad to find myself seated next to him. He had been to all parts of the world, and had spent some time in the India and China seas. He gave me graphic accounts of the strange people of those regions; and fights with Chinese and Malay pirates, battles of a more regular order with French and Spanish privateers, hurricanes or typhoons. Shipwrecks and exciting adventures of all sorts seemed matters of everyday occurrence. A scar on his cheek and another across his hand, showed that he had been, at close quarters, too, on some occasion, with the enemy.

Mr Janrin and Mr Thursby both paid him much attention during dinner. Allusions were made by him to a trading voyage he had performed in the service of the firm, and it struck me from some remarks he let drop that he was about to undertake another of a similar character. I was not mistaken. After dinner, when the rest of the guests were gone, he remained behind to discuss particulars, and Mr Janrin desired me to join the conclave. I was much interested in all I heard. A large new ship, the Barbara, had been purchased, of which Captain Hassall had become part owner. She was now in dock fitting for sea. She mounted ten carriage guns and four swivels, and was to be supplied with a proportionate quantity of small arms, and to be well manned. A letter of marque was to be obtained for her, though she was not to fight except in case of necessity; while her cargo was to be assorted and suited to various localities. She was to visit several places to the East of the Cape of Good Hope, and to proceed on to the Indian Islands and China.

“And how do you like the enterprise, James?” asked Mr Janrin, after the captain had gone.

“I have not considered the details sufficiently to give an opinion, sir,” I answered. “If all turns out as the captain expects, it must be very profitable, but there are difficulties to be overcome, and dangers encountered, and much loss may be incurred.”

I saw Mr Janrin and the head clerk exchange glances, and nod to each other. I fancy that they were nods of approval at what I had said.

“Then, James, you would not wish to engage in it in any capacity?” said Mr Janrin. “You would rather not encounter the dangers and difficulties of such a voyage?”

“That is a very different matter, sir,” I answered. “I should very much like to visit the countries you speak of, and the difficulties I cannot help seeing would enhance the interest of the voyage.”

Again the principal and clerk exchanged glances and nodded.

“What do you say, then, James, to taking charge of the venture as supercargo? My belief is that you will act with discretion and judgment as to its disposal, and that we shall have every reason to be satisfied with you. Mr Thursby agrees with me, do you not, Thursby?”

“I feel sure that Mr James will bring no discredit on the firm, sir,” answered Mr Thursby, smiling at me. “On the contrary, sir, no young man I am acquainted with is so likely to conduce to the success of the enterprise.”

I was highly gratified by the kind remarks of my friends, and expressed my thanks accordingly, at the same time that I begged I might be allowed two days for consideration. I desired, of course, to consult my mother, and was anxious also to know what another would have to say to the subject. She, like a sensible girl, agreed with me that it would be wise to endure the separation for the sake of securing, as I hoped to do, ultimate comfort and independence. I knew from the way that she gave this advice that she did not love me less than I desired. I need say no more than that her confidence was a powerful stimulus to exertion and perseverance in the career I had chosen. My mother was far more doubtful about the matter. Not till the morning after I had mentioned it to her did she say, “Go, my son; may God protect you and bless your enterprise!”

I was from this time forward actively engaged in the preparations for the voyage. My personal outfit was speedily ready, but I considered it necessary to examine all the cases of merchandise put on board, that I might be properly acquainted with all the articles in which I was going to trade. “It’s just what I expected of him,” I heard Mr Janrin remark to Mr Thursby, when one evening I returned late from my daily duties. “Ay, sir, there is the ring of the true metal in the lad,” observed the head clerk.

Captain Hassall was as active in his department as I was in mine, and we soon had the Barbara ready for sea with a tolerably good crew. In those stirring days of warfare it was no easy thing to man a merchantman well, but Captain Hassall had found several men who had sailed with him on previous voyages, and they without difficulty persuaded others to ship on board the Barbara.

Our first officer, Mr Randolph, was a gentleman in the main, and a very pleasant companion, though he had at first sight, in his everyday working suit, that scarecrow look which tall gaunt men, who have been somewhat battered by wind and weather, are apt to get. Our second mate, Ben, or rather “Benjie” Stubbs, as he was usually called, was nearly as broad as he was long, with puffed-out brown cheeks wearing an invincible smile. He was a man of one idea: he was satisfied with being a thorough seaman, and was nothing else. As to history, or science, or the interior of countries, he was profoundly ignorant. As to the land, it was all very well in its way to grow trees and form harbours, but the sea was undoubtedly the proper element for people to live on; and he seemed to look with supreme contempt on all those who had the misfortune to be occupied on shore. The third mate, Henry Irby, had very little the appearance of a sailor, though he was a very good one. He was slight in figure, and refined in his manners, and seemed, I fancied, born to a higher position than that which he held. He had served for two years before the mast, but his rough associates during that time had not been able in any way to alter him. Our surgeon, David Gwynne, was, I need scarcely say, a Welshman. He had not had much professional experience, but he was an intelligent young man, and had several of the peculiarities which are considered characteristic of his people; but I hoped, from what I saw of him when he first came on board, that he would prove an agreeable companion. Curious as it may seem, there were two men among the crew who by birth were superior to any of us. I may, perhaps, have to say more about them by-and-bye. We mustered, officers and men, forty hands all told.

I will pass over the leave-takings with all the dear ones at home. I knew and felt that true prayers, as well as kind wishes, would follow me wherever I might go.

“James,” said my kind employer as I parted from him, “I trust you thoroughly as I would my own son if I had one. I shall not blame you if the enterprise does not succeed; so do not take it to heart, for I know that you will do your best, and no man can do more.” Mr Thursby considered that it was incumbent on him to take a dignified farewell of me, and to impress on me all the duties and responsibilities of my office; but he broke down, and a tear stood in his eye as he wrung my hand, and said in a husky voice, “You know all about it, my dear boy; you’ll do well, and we shall have you back here, hearty and strong, with information successfully to guide Garrard, Janrin and Company in many an important speculation; and, moreover, I hope, to lay the foundation of your own fortune. Good-bye, good-bye; heaven bless you, my boy!”

I certainly could not have commenced my undertaking under better auspices. Having obtained the necessary permission of the Honourable East India Company to trade in their territories, the Barbara proceeded to Spithead, and I ran down to pay a flying visit to my friends, which was the cause of my joining the ship at Spithead in the way I have described, and where I left my readers to give these necessary explanations.

The convoy was standing on under easy sail to allow the scattered vessels to come up, and as long as there was a ray of daylight they were seen taking up their places. Now and then, after dark, I could see a phantom form gliding by; some tall Indiaman, or heavy store-ship, or perhaps some lighter craft, to part with us after crossing the line, bound round Cape Horn. The heat was considerable, and as I felt no inclination to turn in, I continued pacing the deck till it had struck six bells in the first watch. (Note 1.) Mr Randolph, the senior mate, had charge of the deck. He, I found, was not always inclined to agree with some of the opinions held by our captain.

“He’s a fine fellow, our skipper, but full of fancies, as you’ll find; but there isn’t a better seaman out of the port of London,” he observed, as he took a few turns alongside me. “I have a notion that he believes in the yarns of the Flying Dutchman, and of old Boody, the Portsmouth chandler, and in many other such bits of nonsense, but as I was saying—”

“What, don’t you?” I asked, interrupting him; “I thought all sailors believed in those tales.”

The captain had been narrating some of them to us a few evenings before.

“No, I do not,” answered the first mate, somewhat sharply. “I believe that God made this water beneath our feet, and that He sends the wind which sometimes covers it over with sparkling ripples, and at others stirs it up into foaming seas, but I don’t think He lets spirits or ghosts of any sort wander about doing no good to any one. That’s my philosophy. I don’t intend to belief in the stuff till I see one of the gentlemen; and then I shall look pretty sharply into his character before I take my hat off to him.”

“You are right, Mr Randolph, and I do not suppose that the captain differs much from you. He only wishes to guard against mortal enemies, and he has shown that he is in earnest in thinking that there is some danger, by having come on deck every half-hour or oftener during the night. There he is again.”

Captain Hassall stood before us: “Cast loose and load the guns, Mr Randolph, and send a quartermaster to serve out the small arms to the watch,” he said quietly; “there has been a sail on our quarter for some minutes past, which may possibly be one of the convoy, but she may not. Though she carries but little canvas she is creeping up to us.”

The mate and I while talking had not observed the vessel the captain pointed out. “The skipper has sharp eyes,” said the first mate, as he parted from me to obey the orders he had received. Our crew had been frequently exercised at the guns. Having loaded and run them out, the watch came tumbling aft to the arm-chest. Cutlasses were buckled on and pistols quickly loaded, and boarding-pikes placed along the bulwarks ready for use. The men did not exactly understand what all this preparation was for, but that was nothing to them. It signified fighting, and most British seamen are ready for that at any time. The captain now joined me in my walk. “It is better to be prepared, though nothing come of it, than to be taken unawares,” he observed. “It is the principle I have gone on, and as it is a sound one, I intend to continue it as long as I live.” I agreed with him. We walked the deck together for twenty minutes or more, engaged in conversation. His eye was constantly during the time looking over our starboard quarter. Even I could at length distinguish the dim outline of a vessel in that direction. Gradually the sails of a ship with taut raking masts became visible.

“That craft is not one of our convoy, and I doubt that she comes among us for any good purpose,” exclaimed the captain. “I should like to bring the frigate down upon the fellow, but we should lose our share of the work, and I think that we can manage him ourselves. Call the starboard watch, Mr Stubbs.”

The men soon came tumbling up from below, rather astonished at being so soon called. The other officers were also soon on deck Mr Randolph agreed that the stranger, which hung on our quarter like some ill-omened bird of prey, had an exceedingly suspicious appearance, and that we were only acting with ordinary prudence in being prepared for him.

“The fellow won’t fire, as he would bring the frigate down upon him if he did,” observed the first mate; “he will therefore either run alongside in the hopes of surprising us, and taking us by boarding before we have time to fire a pistol, which would attract notice, or, should the wind fall light, he may hope to cut us out with his boats.”

Eight bells struck. We could hear the sound borne faintly over the waters from two of the Indiamen to windward of us, but no echo came from the deck of the stranger. The men were ordered to lie down under the bulwarks till wanted. Had Captain Hassall thought fit, he might, by making sail, have got out of danger, but he had hopes that instead of being taken by the stranger he might take him. It struck me that we might be running an unwarrantable risk of getting the vessel or cargo injured by allowing ourselves to be attacked.

“Not in the least,” answered the captain; “we serve as a bait to the fellow, and shall benefit directly by catching him. If we were to give the alarm he would be off like a shot, and depend on it he has a fast pair of heels, or he would not venture in among us, so that the frigate would have little chance of catching him.”

The truth is, Captain Hassall had made up his mind to do something to boast of. Orders were now given to the men to remain perfectly silent; the stranger was drawing closer and closer; grapnels had been got ready to heave on board him, and to hold him fast should it be found advisable. It was, however, possible that his crew might so greatly outnumber ours that this would prove a dangerous proceeding. As to our men, they knew when they shipped that they might have to fight, and they all now seemed in good heart, so that we had no fear on the score of their failing us. Our officers were one and all full of fight, though each exhibited his feelings in a different way. The surgeon’s only fear seemed to be that the stranger would prove a friend instead of a foe, and that there would be no skirmish after all.

“She’s some craft one of the other vessels has fallen in with, and she has just joined company for protection,” he observed. “For my part I shall turn in, as I am not likely to be wanted, either to fight or to dress wounds.”

The wind, which had much fallen, had just freshened up again. “Whatever he is, friend or foe, here he comes,” exclaimed Mr Randolph. “Steady, lads!” cried the captain, “don’t move till I give the word.”

As he spoke the stranger glided up, her dark sails appearing to tower high above ours. We kept on our course as if she was not perceived. With one sheer she was alongside, there was a crash as her yards locked with ours, and at the same moment numerous dark forms appeared in her rigging and nettings about to leap on to our deck. “Now give it them!” cried our captain. Our men sprang to their feet and fired a broadside through the bulwarks of the enemy. The cries and shrieks which were echoed back showed the havoc which had been caused. Shouts and blows, the clash of cutlasses, the flash of pistols, immediately followed. I felt a stinging sensation in my shoulder, but was too excited to think anything of it as I stood, cutlass in hand, ready to repel our assailants. Many of those who were about to board us must have sprung back, or fallen into the water; a few only reached our deck, who were at once cut down by our people. One man sprang close to where I stood. I was about to fire my pistol at him, when I saw that he was unarmed, so I dragged him across the deck out of harm’s way. The next instant the vessels parted.

“Give it them, my lads! Load and fire as fast as you can, or they will escape us,” cried the captain in an excited tone.

“Wing them! wing them! knock away their spars, lads!” He next ordered the helm to be put down, the tacks hauled aboard, and chase to be made after our flying foe, while a blue light was burned to show our locality, and to prevent the frigate from firing into us when she followed, as we hoped she would.

We had no doubt that the enemy, when he met with the warm reception we had given him, took us for a man-of-war corvette, and on this came to the conclusion that prudence was the best part of valour. There could be little doubt, however, that he would soon discover that our guns were of no great size; and then possibly he might turn on us, and give us more of his quality than would be desirable. Still we kept on peppering away at him as fast as we could, in the hopes of bringing down one of his masts, and enabling the frigate to come up. The lights of the convoy were, however, by this time almost lost sight of. In vain we looked out for a signal of the approach of the frigate. No gun was heard, no light was seen. We were afraid of losing the convoy altogether, and certainly it would have been against the spirit of our instructions to have attempted to deal single-handed with our opponent. Giving the enemy a parting shot most reluctantly, Captain Hassall therefore ordered the helm to be put up, and we ran back in the direction in which we expected to find the convoy.

Note 1. This ordinary watch consists of four hours, and the bell is struck every half-hour. As the first watch commences at eight, it was then eleven. There are two dog-watches from four to six and from six to eight p.m., in order that the same men may not be on duty at the same hours each day.

Chapter Three.

“Good-bye” to the Convoy.

“Hillo! who have we here?” I heard one of the mates exclaim, as I was taking a last look of our receding antagonist. “Is this a dead man?”

“No, not entirely, as yet,” said a voice which proceeded, I found, from a person lying on the deck.

I remembered my prisoner, and ran to lift him up. He recognised my voice. “If it hadn’t been for you I should have been dead enough by this time,” he said, getting on his feet.

“Who are you?” I asked, “a friend or a foe?”

“A friend; or I wouldn’t be here at all,” he answered, in a tone which made me feel certain that he spoke the truth.

“Well, come into the cabin, and tell me all about the matter,” I said; for though he spoke broad Irish, I saw by his manner that he was above the rank of a common seaman. His appearance when he came into the light justified me in my opinion.

“It’s just this; I was first mate of a fine brig, the Kathleen. We had been down in the eastern seas, and away into the Pacific, over to America, trading for some time with the natives, and bringing hides, seal-skins, and sandal-wood to the Chinamen; and at last, having made a successful voyage, we were on our homeward passage, when yonder piratical craft fell in with us. Each man had been promised a share of the profits, so that we had something to fight for. Fight our poor fellows did, till there was scarcely one of them left unhurt. We none of us thought of striking, though; but at last the rascally pirates ran us aboard, and as they swarmed along our decks cut down every man who still stood on his legs. How I escaped without a hurt I don’t know. I soon had other troubles; for, being uninjured, I was at once carried aboard our captor, but before the Frenchmen could secure their prize, she blew up, with every soul on board, and there was I left a prisoner alone. I almost envied the fate of our crew. The loss of the prize, which had cost them so many lives and so much trouble, made the Frenchmen very savage, especially their captain, who is about as daring a villain as ever ploughed salt water. This determined him, when he fell in with your convoy, to try and cut one of them out. He fixed on you because you were of a size which he thought he could tackle easily, and he hoped to take you by surprise. Why he did not kill me outright I do not know, for he treated me like a brute from the moment he got me in his power; and when we ran you alongside he made me get into the rigging that I might be shot at; and I thought to myself, The safest plan is to jump aboard, and if I escape a knock on the head I may stow myself away before any one sees me. Such is the end of my history at present.”

The name of the vessel which had attacked us was the Mignonne, privateer, of twenty guns and eighty men, Captain Jules La Roche, of the port of Brest, we learned from the stranger. “And your own name, my friend?” I asked, not feeling very sure that the truth had been told us. “Dennis O’Carroll. My name will tell you where I hail from, and you may look at me as a specimen of one of the most unfortunate men in the world,” he answered. If O’Carroll’s account of the size of our antagonist was correct, we had good reason to be thankful that we had escaped so easily. Our chief anxiety was now about finding the fleet. We had no business to have separated from them; for though we might easily have run out to the East without encountering an enemy, yet, should any accident have happened to us, our insurers might have considered our charter invalidated, and Garrard, Janrin and Company would have been the sufferers.

We were much relieved by seeing a blue light suddenly burst forth in the darkness. It came from the deck of the frigate, which had stood after us to ascertain the cause of the firing. Our adventure had the effect of keeping the convoy much closer together; for no one could tell when Captain La Roche would take it into his head to pounce down upon us and pick up a stray bird, should the frigate be at a distance. He would have had no chance, however, with the Indiamen, whose officers were in a very combative mood. Not long before a very gallant action had been performed by a squadron of them in the Eastern seas—indeed, no country ever possessed a body of officers in her mercantile marine equal to those of the Honourable East India Company.

I heard all about the action on board the Cuffnells. One morning, when I went on deck, I found that there was what might well be called a calm; the sails of the ships hung up and down the masts without moving, except every now and then, as they slowly rolled from side to side to give a loud thundering clap, and once more to subside into sullen silence. The sea, smooth as a mirror, shone like burnished silver, its surface ever and anon broken by the fin of some monster of the deep, or by a covey of flying fish, which would dart through the air till, their wings dried by the sun, they fell helpless again into their native element.

Looking round I recognised the Cuffnells not far off, and, remembering my promise, asked for a boat to go on board. I was received in the most friendly manner, and was asked to stop to tiffin and to dinner, if I could remain as long.

“Yes, sir, he richly deserved it; every rupee he got—that’s my opinion,” observed a yellow-faced gentleman in nankeens and white waistcoat, sitting at the other end of the table. “I was on board the Earl Camden on my way home, and I know that, including public and private investments, the cargoes of our ships could not have been of less value than eight millions of pounds sterling. We had fifteen Indiamen and a dozen country ships, with a Portuguese craft and a brig, the Ganges; Captain Dance, our captain, was commodore. This fleet sailed from Canton on the 31st January, 1804. After sighting Pulo Auro, near the Straits of Malacca, the Royal George, one of the Indiamen, made the signal for four strange sail in the south-west. On this the commodore directed four of the Indiamen to go down and examine them. Lieutenant Fowler, of the navy, who was a passenger on board the Earl Camden, offered to go also in the Ganges to inspect the strangers more nearly. It was a time of no small anxiety, you may be sure. The Ganges was a fast sailer, and before long Lieutenant Fowler came back, with the information that the squadron in sight was French, and consisted of a line-of-battle ship, three frigates, and a brig. The question was now, Should we fight or not? If we attempted to make our escape the enemy would pursue us, and very likely pick us off in detail. Our safest plan was to put a bold face on the matter, and show that we were prepared for fighting. This was our gallant commodore’s opinion, and all the other captains agreed with him, especially Captain Timins, of the Royal George, who acted as his second in command. The look-out ships were now recalled by signal, and the line of battle formed in close order. As soon as the enemy could fetch in our wake they put about, and we kept on our course under easy sail. At near sunset they were close up with our rear, which it seemed as if they were about to attack. On seeing this Captain Dance prepared with other ships to hasten to the assistance of that part of our line. Just as the day was closing, however, the French, not liking our looks, and unwilling to risk a night engagement, hauled their wind. Lieutenant Fowler was now sent in the Ganges to station the country ships on our lee bow, by which means we were between them and the enemy. He brought back some volunteers, whose assistance was acceptable. We lay to all night—our men at their quarters. At daybreak of the 15th we saw the enemy also lying to, and so, hoisting our colours, we offered them battle if they chose to come down. At nine, finding that they would not accept our challenge, we formed the order of sailing, and steered our course under easy sail. The enemy on this filled their sails and edged down towards us. Now was the time that the mettle of our merchant skippers was to be tried. Did they, flinch?—Not a bit of it! The commodore, finding that the enemy proposed to attack and cut off our rear, made the signal for the fleet to tack and bear down on him, and engage in succession—the Royal George being the leading ship, the Ganges next, and then the Earl Camden. This manoeuvre was beautifully performed, and we stood towards the Frenchmen under a press of sail. The enemy then formed in a very close line and opened fire on the headmost ships, which was not returned till they got much closer. What do you think of it? Two merchantmen and a brig engaging a line-of-battle ship, two frigates, and two other ships of war—for the rest of the fleet had not yet got up. The Royal George bore the brunt of the action, for Captain Timins took his ship as close to the enemy as they would let him, and the Ganges and Earl Camden opened their fire as soon as their guns could take effect. Before, however, any of the other ships could get into action the Frenchmen hauled their wind and stood away to the eastward, under all the sail they could set. On this, at about two p.m., the signal was made for a general chase, and away went the fleet of merchantmen after the men-of-war. We pursued them for two hours, when the commodore, fearing that we might be led too far from the mouth of the straits, made the signal to tack, and in the evening we anchored ready to pass through the straits in the morning. We afterwards found that the squadron we had engaged was that of Admiral Linois, consisting of the Marengo, 84 guns, the Belle Poule and Semillante, heavy frigates, a corvette of 28 guns, and a Batavian brig of 18 guns. That the Frenchmen either took some of our big ships for men-of-war, or fancied that some men-of-war were near at hand and ready to come to our assistance, is very probable, but that does not detract from the gallantry of the action. The Patriotic Fund voted swords and plate to Captain Dance and other officers, and the East India Company presented him with 2,000 guineas and a piece of plate worth 500, and Captain Timins 1,000 guineas and a piece of plate, and all the other captains and officers and men rewards in plate or money, the whole amounting to not less than 50,000. But they deserved it, sir—they deserved it; and I suspect that Admiral Linois and his officers must have pulled out the best part of their hair when they discovered the prize they had lost. Besides the reward I have mentioned, Commodore Dance was very properly knighted. In its result,” continued the speaker, “the action was most important.”

“But it was scarcely so annoying to the enemy as another in which some Indiamen were engaged in 1800,” observed a military officer, laying down his knife and fork, and wiping his moustache. “I was on my passage out on board the Exeter, one of the Indiamen of 1,200 tons, commanded by Captain Meriton. We had in company the Bombay Castle, Coutts, and Neptune, of the same tonnage, besides other ships under the convoy of the Belligeux, of 64 guns, Captain Bulteel. A French squadron of three large frigates, it appeared, after committing a good deal of mischief on the coast of Africa, had crossed over to Rio de la Plata to refit, and had just again put to sea, when, early in the morning, they made out a part, and some of the lighter ships, probably, of our convoy. Hoping to pick up some prizes, the Frenchmen stood towards us, and we, quite ready for the encounter, bore down towards them. No sooner, however, did the Frenchmen see our big China ships, with their two tiers of ports and warlike look, than they bore up under a press of sail, and by signal separated. While the Belligeux steered for the largest of the French ships, she signalled to the Indiamen I have mentioned to proceed in chase of the others, we and the Bombay Castle of one of them, the Médée, and the other two of the Franchise. We, at the time, were nearer the Médée than was the Bombay Castle, and we also sailed better. The chase was a long one, but we kept the enemy in sight, and it was near midnight before we came up with her. The Bombay Castle was a long way astern, and the frigate might have handled us very severely, if not knocked us to pieces, before she could have come up to our assistance. Captain Meriton was not a man to be daunted. With the decks lighted and all our ports up, he ran alongside the Frenchman—‘Strike, monsieur, to a superior force, to his Britannic Majesty’s ship Thunderaboo’ he shouted out. ‘Strike, I say, or—’ We did not know whether the Frenchman would reply with a broadside, which would have greatly staggered us. Instead of that the Frenchman politely replied that he yielded to the fortune of war. ‘Come aboard immediately,’ was the order our bold captain next gave. Not to be surpassed by the Frenchman, we had a guard ready to assist the captain up our high side. With the profoundest of bows he delivered his sword, and he was then asked into the cabin. Immediately we had him safe, keeping the frigate under our guns, we sent armed boats on board, and brought away part of her people. When the Bombay Castle came up she received the remainder, and we then placed a prize crew on board. Meantime the suspicions of the French captain had been aroused. He had observed the small size of our guns. The appearance of the Indiaman’s cuddy and the gentlemen and lady passengers—not that there were many of the latter—must have raised curious doubts in his mind. Suddenly he jumped up and asked to what ship he had struck.

“‘To the Honourable East India Company’s ship Exeter,’ answered Captain Meriton, with a bow which beat the Frenchman’s.

“‘What, to a merchantman?’ exclaimed the Frenchman, with a look of dismay.

“‘Yes, monsieur, to a merchantman,’ said Captain Meriton, with a gentle smile, which it would have been difficult to repress.

“‘It is not fair; it is vile! it is a cheat!’ exclaimed the Frenchman, beginning to stalk up and down the cabin, to grind his teeth, and to pull out his hair. ‘I say it is a cheat; give me back my ship, send on board my men, and I will fight you bravely. You will soon see if you take me again.’

“‘I am ready to acknowledge that you would very likely take me, as I should certainly deserve to be taken for my folly in agreeing to your proposal. You will excuse me if I therefore decline it,’ was the answer. Though we pitied the feelings of the poor man, it was very difficult to keep our countenance as he uttered his expressions of indignation and anger. He did not recover his spirits till his frigate was out of sight.”

This anecdote was followed by several others. Those were pleasant hours I spent on board the old Indiaman. My visits to her were indeed an agreeable change from the sea-life routine of my own ship. I was amused by the progress in intimacy made among themselves by the younger portion of the passengers since I first went aboard at Spithead. The captain confided to me the fact that it cost him much more trouble to maintain discipline in the cuddy than among his crew. “What with my young ladies and my chronometers, it is as much as an elderly gentleman can well accomplish to keep all things straight,” he observed, glancing at several young couples who were pacing the deck, the gentlemen being cadets or writers. “The friends of those girls now—nice young creatures they are too,—have sent them out fully expecting that they would marry nabobs or colonels at least, and in spite of all my precautions, they have gone and engaged themselves to those young fellows who have only just got their feet on the ratlines. Small blame to the gentlemen, however, for a more charming consignment I never had, only the more charming the more difficult to manage.”

While the calms lasted, I paid daily visits to my friends, but at length a breeze springing up we proceeded on our voyage, as I must with my narrative, or I may chance not to get to the end of it. We called off the beautiful island of Madeira, with its picturesque town of Funchal—more attractive on the outside than within; we procured, however, a welcome supply of fresh meat, vegetables, and fruits. On our crossing the line, Neptune and his Tritons came on board and played their usual pranks. Jack little thinks that on such occasions he is performing a very ancient ceremony, practised by those bold voyagers, the Carthaginians; to them there is little doubt that the secret of the mariner’s compass was known. On sailing between the Pillars of Hercules into the wide Atlantic they were visited, not by Hercules himself, but by his representative priests, to whom they were wont to deliver certain votive offerings that the propitiated divinity might protect them on their perilous voyage. The custom of performing ceremonies of a like description was continued to later times by the mariners of the Levant, Greece, and Italy, long after the temple of Hercules was in ruins. When they, and those northern seamen who had learned the scientific parts of navigation from them, extended their voyages across the line, they continued the practices, substituting Neptune for Hercules, and adding a few caricatures to suit their own more barbarous taste.

Having crossed the line, and there being no longer much risk of our meeting the cruisers of the enemy, Captain Hassall, who had long fumed at being kept back by the slow sailing of our companions, determined to part company. We accordingly hoisted our colours, gave a salute of nine guns in acknowledgment of the civilities we had received, and under all sail soon ran the dignified moving convoy out of sight. Light and contrary winds and calms kept us so long under the sun of the tropics that the seams of our decks began to open, and, to get them caulked and other repairs executed, we bore up for Saint Salvador on the coast of Brazil, belonging to Portugal. We saluted the fort on entering, and paid every necessary respect to the authorities; but we soon found that they either suspected our character, or were not inclined, for some other reason, to treat us in a friendly spirit. A guard was put on board, and we were told that neither officers nor crew must leave the ship.

We were still ignorant of the cause of this treatment, when the master of an English whaler came alongside with his men armed to the teeth. He told us that he had a letter of marque, and that on the strength of it, having fallen in with a Spanish merchantman some way to the south-west, he had chased and captured her, and found a large number of dollars on board. Having come into Saint Salvador he found there no less than seven other Spanish vessels, the masters and crews of which were favoured by the Portuguese, and he heard that they threatened to follow him out and capture him and his prize. Our arrival had turned the scales in his favour, and he offered to remain if we would accompany him out when we were ready. This Captain Hassall readily promised to do. As the whaler was strongly manned, a good-sized crew had been put on board the prize, and thus our three vessels were somewhat of a match for the Spaniards, we hoped. At length the Governor of the place ordered the officers of the ship to appear before him. Accordingly Captain Hassall, the first mate, and I, accompanied by Dennis O’Carroll, who seemed to be able to speak every language under the sun except pure English, as interpreter, went on shore under an escort. The Governor, a fat, swarthy personage in the full dress uniform of a general, received us in a haughty manner, and cross-questioned us in the most minute and tedious manner. Dennis somewhat puzzled him by the style of his answers, which were anything but literal translations of what Captain Hassall said. The result, however, was favourable, and we were allowed to go wherever we chose about the city, and to get the necessary repairs of our ships executed, and to obtain all the stores and provisions we required.

Much relieved, we made our bows, and then took a turn through the place before going on board. I was much struck with the number of churches, of priests and monks, and black slaves, the latter habited in the most scanty garments, and the former perambulating the streets in parties, dressed up in the richest attire of coloured silks and gold, with banners and crosses, and statues of saints, or representations of events mentioned in the Scriptures, the figures as large as life. A large number of friars in black, or brown, or grey gowns of coarse cloth, with ropes round their waists, were going about two and two, with small figures of saints on money boxes. The figures they literally thrust into the faces of the passers-by to be kissed. We saw no one refuse to drop a coin into the box.

“These must be a very religiously disposed people,” I observed to Dennis.

“If you knew what I do you wouldn’t say that,” he answered. “They’re fond of sinning, and they are ready to pay for it. The reason that all these priests and monks flourish is this—they have succeeded in teaching the people that they can buy pardon for all the sins they commit. The only scrap of real religion the poor people are allowed to possess is the knowledge that sin must be punished if not forgiven. Instead, however, of showing them how forgiveness can alone be obtained, they make them believe that money can buy it through the prayers of the saints; but when they’ve got the money in their own pockets, it’s very little trouble they give the saints about the matter at all.”

“How did you learn all this, Mr O’Carroll?” I asked.

“Just because I believed it all myself,” he answered quickly. “I’ll tell you some day how I came to find out that I had been sailing on a wrong tack; but you think me now a harum-scarum Irishman, and I’m afraid to talk about the matter.”

On our way we passed through the dockyard, where a fifty-gun ship was building, and several smaller vessels of war. We were looking at one repairing alongside the quay, when I saw O’Carroll start, and look eagerly at the people on board.

“That’s her, I’m certain of it!” he exclaimed. “She has got into trouble since she parted from you, or you may have done her more harm than you thought for, and she has put in here with false papers and under false colours to repair damages.”

“What vessel do you mean?” I asked.

“Why, the Mignonne to be sure, or by what other name she may go,” he answered. “Probably she is now the San Domingo, or some other saint under Spanish colours, and hailing from some port on the other side of the Horn. Our friend, Captain Brown, of the whaler, had better make haste, or she will be after him and his prize.”

“Why not after us then?” I asked.

“Because Captain La Roche has had enough of your quality, I suspect,” he replied. “He is a fellow who only fights when he is sure of booty, and though I daresay that he would like to send you to the bottom, he would not go out of his way either for revenge or glory.”

To satisfy ourselves we examined the stranger as narrowly as we could, and O’Carroll was thoroughly convinced that he was right in his suspicions. While thus employed a man appeared at the companion watch.

“Why, there is La Roche himself!” he cried out. Scarcely had he spoken than a bullet whizzed by his head. “That settles the matter,” he said, quite coolly. “Let us be out of this, or he will be following up this compliment.” We hurried out of the dockyard. I proposed making a complaint to the authorities.

“And be detained here several weeks and gain nothing in the end,” he answered, shaking his head. “My advice is, get ready for sea as fast as you can, and if you wish to serve Captain Brown see him safe out of sight of land before the Mignonne can follow. We’ll keep a watch on him in the meantime, or he’ll play us some trick or other. Above all things, don’t be on shore after dark. La Roche has plenty of friends here, depend on that, and he will find means to pick us off if he thinks that we are likely to inconvenience him.”

Following O’Carroll’s suggestions I immediately returned on board. Captain Hassall at first scarcely credited the account we gave him—indeed, he did not, I saw, put thorough confidence in O’Carroll. However, he agreed that we ought to warn Captain Brown, and that it would be well for us also to sail before the supposed privateer was ready for sea.

Chapter Four.

The “Barbara” on Fire.

We had got our decks caulked, our rigging set up, and other repairs finished, when, one forenoon, O’Carroll, who had at length ventured on shore, returned in a great hurry with the information that there was much bustle on board the Mignonne, and that her people were evidently hurrying to the utmost to get ready for sea. Had Captain Hassall followed his own inclinations, he would have given the piratical Frenchman the opportunity of trying his strength with the Barbara; but as that would have been decidedly objected to by Garrard, Janrin and Company, we, with the whaler and her prize, and another English vessel, cleared out as secretly as we could, and, with a fair breeze, put to sea. We had to lay to for the other vessels, and after they had joined us Captain Brown hailed us, to say that the look-out from his main-topgallant mast-head had seen a large ship coming out of the harbour under all sail, and that he thought it possible she might be the Mignonne. As, however, a mist had soon afterwards arisen, she was concealed from sight. We promised, however, to stand to the northward with Captain Brown during the night, and in the morning, should no enemy be in sight, let him and his consorts proceed on their voyage homewards, while we kept on our course for the Cape of Good Hope. Nothing could have given our people greater satisfaction than to have found the Frenchman close to us at daybreak. I spent most of the night in writing letters home, to send by the whaler. When morning dawned, not a sail, except our own little squadron, was to be seen. We kept company till noon, and then, with mutual good wishes, stood away on our respective courses. We hoped that the Mignonne would follow the Barbara rather than our friends, should she really have sailed in chase of any of us. The possibility of our being pursued created much excitement on board. At early dawn, till the evening threw its mantle over the ocean, we had volunteers at the mastheads looking out for a strange sail. At the end of four or five days all expectation of again meeting with the Mignonne ceased, somewhat to the disappointment of most of the crew, who were wonderfully full of fight. Having beaten the Frenchman once, they were very sure that they could beat him again. We had other good reasons for having our eyes about us—first, to avoid in time any foe too big to tackle; and then, as we had the right to capture any Spanish vessels we might fall in with, to keep a look-out for them. However, the ocean is very broad, and though we chased several vessels, they all proved to be Portuguese. After sighting the little rocky and then uninhabited island of Tristan da Cunha, we made the Cape of Good Hope, and, entering Table Bay, dropped our anchor off Capetown.

The colony had lately been recaptured from the Dutch by Sir David Baird and Sir Home Popham, with a well-appointed force of 5,000 men. The two armies met on the plain at the foot of Table Mountain; but scarcely had the action been commenced by General Ferguson, at the head of the Highland brigade, than the wise Hollanders, considering that the English were likely to prove as good masters as the French, retreated, and soon after offered to capitulate, which they were allowed to do with all the honours of war. The Dutch, French, and English were now living on very friendly terms with each other. The Cape colony, with its clean, well-laid-out English capital, its Table Mountain and Table Cloth, its vineyards, its industrious and sturdy Boers, its Hottentot slaves, and its warlike Kaffirs, is too well-known to require a description. I did a good deal of trading—a matter of private interest to Garrard, Janrin and Company, so I will not speak of it. The ship was put to rights, we enjoyed ourselves very much on shore, and were once more at sea. Strong easterly winds drove us again into the Atlantic, and when we had succeeded in beating back to the latitude of Capetown, the weather, instead of improving, looked more threatening than ever. I had heard of the peculiar swell off the Cape, but I had formed no conception of the immense undulations I now beheld. They came rolling on slow and majestically, solid-looking, like mountains of malachite, heaving up our stout ship as if she were a mere chip of deal cast on the face of the ocean. We were alone on the waste of waters, no other objects in sight besides these huge green masses, which, as the clouds gathered, were every instant becoming of a darker and more leaden hue.

“We shall get a breeze soon, and I hope that it will be from the right quarter for us,” I remarked to Benjie Stubbs, the second mate, who had charge of the deck.

“We shall have a breeze, and more than we want, Pusser,” (intended for Purser, a name Benjie always persisted in giving me), he answered, glancing round the horizon. “You’ve not seen anything like this before, eh? A man must come to sea to know what’s what. There are strange sights on the ocean.”

“So I have always heard,” I remarked.

“Yes, you’d have said so if you had been on deck last night in the middle watch,” he observed, in a low tone.

“How so? what happened?” I asked.

“Why, just this,” he answered. “There was not more wind than there is now, and the sky was clear, with a slice of a moon shining brightly, when, just as I was looking along its wake, what did I see but a full-rigged, old-fashioned ship, under all sail, bearing down towards us at a tremendous rate. When she got within a couple of hundred fathoms of us she hove-to and lowered a boat. I guessed well enough what she was, so, running forward, I cast loose one of the guns and pointed at the boat. They aboard the stranger knew what I was after; the boat was hoisted in again, and away she went right in the teeth of the wind.”

“Did you see this last night?” I asked, looking the mate in the face. “I should like to speak to some of the men who saw it at the same time.”

“I don’t say all saw it. You may ask those who did, and you won’t get a different story from what I’ve told you,” he replied.

“And what think you was the ship you saw?” I asked.

“The Flying Dutchman, of course, and no manner of doubt about the matter,” he answered promptly. (Note 1.) “If you had been on the look-out you would have seen him as clearly as I did. Remember, Pusser, if you ever fall in with him, don’t let him come aboard, that’s all. He’ll send you to the bottom as surely as if a red-hot shot was to be dropped into the hold.”

“Who is this Flying Dutchman?” I asked, wishing to humour Benjie by pretending to believe his story.

“Why, as to that, there are two opinions,” he answered, as if he was speaking of authenticated facts. “Some say that he was an honest trader, that he was bound in for Table Bay, when he was ordered off by the authorities, and that, putting to sea, he was lost; others say that he was a piratical gentleman, and that on one occasion, when short of provisions, being driven off the land by contrary winds, he swore a great oath that he would beat about till the day of doom, but that get in he would. He and all his crew died of starvation, but the oath has been kept; and when gales are threatening, or mischief of any kind brewing, he is to be met with, trying in vain to accomplish his vow.”

I smiled at Benjie’s account, whereat he pretended to look very indignant, as if I had doubted his veracity. I afterwards made inquiries among the seamen. Two or three asserted that they had witnessed an extraordinary sight during the night, but they all differed considerably in their accounts. It may be supposed that they were trying to practise on the credulity of a greenhorn. My belief is that they really fancied that they had seen what they described.

The clouds grew thicker and thicker till they got as black as ink. The sea became of a dark leaden hue, and the swell increased in height, so that when we sank down into the intermediate valley, we could not see from the deck beyond the watery heights on either side of us.

“Ah, the skipper is right; we shall have it before long, hot and furious.”

This remark, made by Benjie Stubbs, followed the captain’s order to send down all our lighter spars, and to make everything secure on deck, as well as below. The ship was scarcely made snug before the tempest broke on us. The high, smooth rollers were now torn and wrenched asunder as it were, their summits wreathed with masses of foam, which curled over as they advanced against the wind, and breaking into fragments, blew off in masses of snowy whiteness to leeward. I scarcely thought that a fabric formed by human hands could have sustained the rude shocks we encountered till the ship was got on her course, and we were able to scud before the gale. Often the sea rose up like a dead wall, and seemed as if it must fall over our deck and send us to the bottom. The scene was trying in the daytime, but still more so when darkness covered the face of the deep, and it needed confidence in the qualities of our ship, and yet greater in God’s protecting power, not to feel overcome with dread. There was a grandeur in the spectacle which kept me on deck, and it was not till after the steward had frequently summoned me to supper that I could tear myself from it. Curious was the change to the well-lighted, handsome cabin, with the supper things securely placed between fiddles and puddings (Note 1.) on the swing table. The first mate had charge of the deck. Stubbs was busily employed fortifying his nerves. “You now know, Pusser, what a gale off the Cape is,” he observed, looking up with his mouth half full of beef and biscuit.

“Yes, indeed,” said I. “Fine weather, too, for your friend the Dutchman to be cruising.”

“Ay, and likely enough we shall see him, too,” he answered. “It was just such a night as this, some five years back, that we fell in with him off here; and our consort, as sound a ship as ever left the Thames, with all hands, was lost. It’s my belief that he put a boat aboard her by one of his tricks.” I saw Captain Hassall and Irby exchange glances. Stubbs was getting on his favourite subject.

“Well, now, I’ve doubled this Cape a dozen times or more, and have never yet once set eyes on this Dutch friend of yours, Benjie,” exclaimed O’Carroll. “Mind you call me if we sight his craft; I should like to ‘ya, ya’ a little with him, and just ask him where he comes from, and what he’s about, and maybe if I put the question in a civil way I’ll get a civil answer.” By-the-bye, Captain Hassall and I had been so well pleased with O’Carroll, and so satisfied as to his thorough knowledge of the regions we were about to visit and the language of the people, that we had retained him on board as supernumerary mate.

“Don’t you go and speak to him now, if you value the safety of the ship, or our lives,” exclaimed Stubbs, in a tone of alarm. “You don’t know what trick he’ll play you if you do. Let such gentry alone, say I.”

We all laughed at the second mate’s earnestness, though I cannot say that all the rest of those present disbelieved in the existence of the condemned Dutchman. The state of the atmosphere, the strange, wild, awful look of the ocean, prepared our minds for the appearance of anything supernatural. The captain told me that I looked ill and tired from having been on deck so many hours, and insisted on my turning in, which I at length unwillingly did.

In spite of the upheaving motion of the ship, and the peculiar sensation as she rushed down the watery declivity into the deep valley between the seas, I fell asleep. The creaking of the bulkheads, the whistling of the wind in the rigging, the roaring of the seas, and their constant dash against the sides, were never out of my ears, and oftentimes I fancied that I was on deck witnessing the tumult of the ocean—now that the Flying Dutchman was in sight, now that our own good ship was sinking down overwhelmed by the raging seas.

“Mr Stubbs wants you on deck, sir; she’s in sight, sir, he says, she’s in sight,” I heard a voice say, while I felt my elbow shaken. The speaker was Jerry Nott, our cabin-boy. I slipped on my clothes, scarcely knowing what I was about.

“What o’clock is it?” I asked. “Gone two bells in the morning watch,” he answered. I sprang on deck. The dawn had broke. The wind blew as hard as ever. The sky and sea were of a leaden grey hue, the only spots of white were the foaming crests of the seas and our closely-reefed foretop sails. “There, there! Do you see her now?” asked Stubbs, pointing ahead. As we rose to the top of a giant sea I could just discover in the far distance, dimly seen amid the driving spray, the masts of a ship, with more canvas set than I should have supposed would have been shown to such a gale. While I was looking I saw another ship not far beyond the first. We were clearly nearing them.

“What do you think of that?” asked Stubbs.

“That there are two ships making very bad weather of it, Mr Stubbs,” answered the captain, who at that moment had come on deck. He took a look through his glass.

“She is a large ship—a line-of-battle ship, I suspect,” he observed.

“Looks like one,” said Stubbs. “She’ll look like something else by-and-by.”

The rest of the officers had now joined us except Mr Randolph, who had the middle watch. We were all watching the strangers together. Now, as we sank down into the hollow, the masses of spray which blew off from the huge sea uprising between us and them, hid them from our sight. Some differed with the captain as to the size of the largest ship. One or two thought that she was an Indiaman. However, she was still so distant, and in the grey dawn so misty-looking and indistinct, that it was difficult to decide the question. The captain himself was not certain. “However, we shall soon be able to settle the matter,” he observed, as the Barbara, now on the summit of a mountain billow, was about to glide down the steep incline. Down, down, we went—it seemed that we should never be able to climb the opposite height. We were all looking out for the strangers, expecting to settle the disputed point. “Where are they?” burst from the lips of all of us. “Where, where?” We looked, we rubbed our eyes—no sail was in sight. “I knew it would be so,” said Stubbs, in a tone in which I perceived a thrill of horror. O’Carroll asserted that he had caught sight of the masts of a ship as if sinking beneath the waves.

“Very likely,” observed Stubbs, “that was of the ship he was sending to the bottom,—the other was the Dutchman, and you don’t see her now.”

“No, no, they were craft carrying human beings, and they have foundered without a chance of one man out of the many hundreds on board being saved!” exclaimed the captain.

Stubbs shook his head as if he doubted it. We careered on towards the spot where the ships had gone down, for that real ships had been there no doubt could be entertained. A strict look-out was kept for anything that might still be floating to prove that we had not been deceived by some phantom forms. Those on the look-out forward reported an object ahead. “A boat! a boat!” shouted one of them. “No boat could live in such a sea,” observed the captain. He was right. As we approached, we saw a grating, to which a human being was clinging. It was, when first seen, on the starboard bow, and it was, alas! evident that we should leave him at too great a distance even to heave a rope to which he might clutch. By his dress he appeared to be a seaman. He must have observed our approach; but he knew well enough that we could make no attempt to save him. He gazed at us steadily as we glided by—his countenance seemed calm—he uttered no cry—still he clung to his frail raft. He could not make up his mind to yield to death. It was truly a painful sight. We anxiously watched him till we left the raft to which he still clung far astern. No other person was seen, but other objects were seen—floating spars, planks, gratings—to prove that we were near a spot where a tall ship had gone down. “It is better so,” observed the captain; “unless the sea had cast them on our deck we could not have saved one of them.” We rushed on up and down the watery heights, Stubbs as firmly convinced as ever that the Flying Dutchman had produced the fearful catastrophe we had witnessed. On we went—the gale in no way abating. I watched the mountain seas till I grew weary of looking at them; still I learned to feel perfectly secure—a sensation I was at first very far from experiencing. Yet much, if not everything, depended on the soundness of our spars and rigging: a flaw in the wood or rope might be the cause of our destruction. I went below at meal-time, but I hurried again on deck, fascinated by the scene, though I would gladly have shut it out from my sight. At length, towards night, literally wearied with the exertion of keeping my feet and watching those giant seas, I went below and turned in. I slept, but the huge white-crested waves were still rolling before me, and big ships were foundering, and phantom vessels were sailing in the wind’s eye, and I heard the bulkheads creaking, the wind whistling, and the waves roaring, as loudly as if I was awake; only I often assigned a wrong sign to the uproar. Hour after hour this continued, when, as I had at last gone off more soundly, a crash echoed in my ears, followed by shrieks and cries. It did not, however, awake me. It seemed a part of the strange dreams in which I was indulging. I thought that the ship had struck on a rock, that I escaped to the shore, had climbed up a lofty cliff, on the summit of which I found a wood fire surrounded by savages. They dragged me to it—I had the most fearful forebodings of what they were about to do. Then I heard the cry, “Fire! fire!” That was a reality—the smell of fire was in my nostrils—I started up—I was alone in the cabin. The ship was plunging about in an awful manner. I hurried on my clothes and rushed on deck. Daylight had broke. The ship lately so trim seemed a perfect wreck. The foremast had been carried away, shivered to the deck, and hung over the bows, from which part of the crew were endeavouring to clear it. The main and mizen-topmasts had likewise been carried away. Smoke was coming up the fore hatchway, down which the rest of the people were pouring buckets of water. I went forward to render assistance. The foremast had been struck by lightning, and the electric fluid, after shattering it, had descended into the hold and set the ship on fire. We worked with the desperation of despair. Should the fire once gain the mastery, no human power could save us. The sea was running as high as ever; it was with difficulty that the ship could be kept before it. I exchanged but a few words with my companions; a bucket was put into my hands, and I at once saw what I had to do. The smoke after a time had decreased, for as yet no flames had burst forth. “Now, lads, follow me,” cried Randolph, the first officer, leaping below with his bucket and an axe in his hand. Irby and four men sprang after him. With his axe the mate cut a way to get at the heart of the fire. We handed down buckets to his companions, who kept emptying them round where he was working. The smoke was still stifling. Those below could scarcely be seen as they worked amidst it. The bulkhead was cut through. The seat of the mischief was discovered. Flames were bursting forth, but wet blankets were thrown on them. The buckets were passed rapidly down. The smoke was decreasing. “Hurrah, lads! we shall have it under!” cried the first mate, in an encouraging tone. We breathed more freely. The fire was subdued. The peril had indeed been great. We had now to clear the wreck of the mast, which threatened to stave in the bows. “The gale is breaking,” cried the captain, after looking round the horizon; “cheer up, my lads, and we shall do well!” Encouraged by the captain the men laboured on, though from the violent working of the ship it was not without great difficulty and danger that the mass of spars, ropes, and canvas could be hauled on board or cast adrift. As a landsman my assistance was not of much value, though I stood by clinging to the bulwarks, to lend a hand in case I should be required. While glancing to windward, as I did every now and then, in hopes of seeing signs of the abatement of the gale, I caught sight of what seemed the wing of an albatross, skimming the summit of a tossing sea. I looked again and again. There it still was as at first. I pointed it out to the captain. “A sail running down towards us,” he observed; “it is to be hoped that she is a friend, for we are in a sorry plight to meet with a foe.” The captain’s remark made me feel not a little anxious as to the character of the approaching stranger. After a time it became evident that the wind was really falling. The wreck of the mast was at last cleared away, but a calm sea would be required before we could attempt to get up a jury-mast. We had watched the approach of the stranger: she was steering directly for us. As she drew nearer I saw O’Carroll examining her narrowly through the glass. “Here comes the Flying Dutchman again,” I observed to Stubbs.

“Not at all certain that she isn’t,” he answered, quite in a serious tone.

“No, she’s not that, but she’s ten times worse,” exclaimed O’Carroll; “she is the Mignonne, as I am a seaman, and will be bothering us pretty considerably, depend on that.”

We heartily hoped that he was mistaken, but certainly she was very like the craft we had seen at Saint Salvador. She passed us as near as the heavy sea still running would allow her to do without danger to herself. A man was standing in the mizen rigging. I caught sight of his face through my telescope. I thought that I distinguished a look of satisfaction in his countenance as he gazed at us. “That’s La Roche; I know the villain!” cried O’Carroll; “I thought from what I heard that he was bound out here. He’ll work us ill, depend on that.” We now wished that the sea had continued to run as high as it had hitherto been doing, when it would have been impossible for the privateer to have boarded us. It was now, however, rapidly going down, though as yet it was too rough to allow her to attempt to run alongside. It was possible that she might pass us. No! After running on a short distance her yards were braced sharp up, and she stood back, with the evident intention of attacking our helpless craft.

Note 1. Contrivances to prevent articles falling off a table at sea.

Note 2. We never hear of the Flying Dutchman now-a-days. The fact is that he had the monopoly of sailing or going along rather in the teeth of the wind. Now steamers have cut him out, and he is fain to hide his diminished head.

Chapter Five.

A desperate Encounter.

O’Carroll’s alarm increased as he saw the privateer approaching. “We shall all have our throats cut to a certainty,” he cried out. “They will not leave one of us alive to go home to our disconsolate widows to tell them all that has happened. I know them too well, the villains! Arrah! it was an unfortunate moment that ever I was brought to tumble twice into the hands of such gentry.”

“We are not in their hands yet, and if we make a good fight of it, maybe we never shall,” exclaimed Captain Hassall. “My lads, if you’ll stand by me, I’ll hold out as long as the craft can float. We beat off this same fellow once before—let’s try if we can’t beat him off again.”

This brief address inspirited our crew, and, almost worn out with fatigue as they were, they promised to defend themselves to the last. My sensations, as we saw the enemy approach, were not altogether pleasant. We might beat him off in the end; but even that, in our present condition, was not likely; and how many of our number might not be struck down in the struggle! In the meantime, the men armed themselves with pistols and cutlasses, powder and shot were got up, and every preparation made for the fight. The enemy approached, but as he had run to leeward, it was some time before he could work up to pass us to windward. We had carried a stay from the mainmast to the bowsprit, and on this we managed to set a sail, so that the ship was tolerably under control. When the enemy, therefore, at last passed under our stern, we were able to luff up and avoid the raking fire he poured in. No damage was done to any of our people, but a shot struck the mainmast, and wounded it so badly that it was evident that, with any additional strain, it would be carried away altogether. Putting up the helm, we again ran off before the wind. The enemy was soon after us, but though he came up abeam in the heavy sea still running, his aim was of necessity uncertain, and for some time not a shot struck us, while several of ours struck him. This encouraged our men, who gave vent to their satisfaction whenever he was hulled, or a shot went through his sails. Our hopes of success were, however, soon brought to an end, for, as we were compelled to luff up suddenly, to avoid being raked, as he was about to cross our bows, the heavy strain on our wounded mast carried it away, and with it the mizen-topmast, and there we lay a helpless wreck in the trough of the sea, at the mercy of the enemy. Still, as we could work our guns we would not give in, but hoisting our flag on the mizen-mast we continued firing as long as we could bring our guns to bear. A loud cheer burst from the throats of our crew; the Frenchman was standing away. This exultation was rather too precipitate. As soon as he got out of range of our guns, he hove-to and began firing away from a long gun, the shot from which occasionally hit us. One poor fellow was killed and two wounded. It was clear that the privateer was merely waiting till the sea should go down, when he would run alongside and capture us without difficulty.

Captain Hassall at last, seeing what must inevitably occur, called the officers round him, and proposed surrendering. “The villains will cut all our throats if we do, that’s all,” observed O’Carroll. “I would rather hold out to the last and sell our lives dearly.” Most of us were of O’Carroll’s opinion.

“Very well, gentlemen, so let it be,” said the captain. “I have done my duty in offering to surrender, when I consider that successful resistance is hopeless; still I agree with you that it would be better to die fighting than to be murdered in cold blood.”

When our guns became useless, the crew had been set to work to clear the wreck of the mainmast, and to prepare sheers for a jury foremast. “And this is to be the termination of our enterprise,” I thought. I must own I gave way to some bitter reflection. While all hands were busily employed, I turned my eyes westward, and there, in the very place where the Mignonne had appeared, I saw another white sail. I pointed her out to the captain. “She may be a friend, and turn the tables,” he observed. “If a foe we shall not be worse off than at present.”

It soon became known that a sail was in sight. The crew came to the conclusion that she was a friend. The Frenchmen at last saw her. Whatever opinion they formed, they judged that it would be wise to finish the fight and take possession of us. Once more the enemy drew near. The firing became hotter than ever. I turned many an anxious glance at the approaching sail. I felt sure that, in spite of the staunchness of our men, we must inevitably be overpowered. The stranger was getting closer and closer.

“She is a frigate!” cried the captain. “She shows English colours! hurrah! hurrah!” The enemy saw that the chance of capturing us was gone. Sweeping round us, with diabolical malice he gave a parting broadside, which killed one man and wounded another, and then under all the sail he could set ran off before the wind. The frigate had now also made more sail and closed as rapidly. She came close to us. “Are you in a sinking state?” asked a voice from the frigate. “I hope not,” answered Captain Hassall. “Then hold on and we’ll come back to you,” said the voice, which we took to be that of the captain. As I was watching the frigate through my glass, as she rushed by us, who should I see standing in the main rigging but my own midshipman brother William! I waved heartily to him, but he did not make me out. From my usual sedate manners, my shipmates seeing my gestures thought that I had gone mad, and was waving to be taken on board the frigate. “She is the Phoebe frigate,” I exclaimed, jumping out of the rigging on deck. “No fear that we shall be deserted now!” I then explained how I came to know the name of the frigate. All hands were now set to work to get the ship to rights. The chase, meantime, became very exciting. “The captain does not know what a fast pair of heels that privateering scoundrel possesses, or he would not have much hopes of catching him,” observed Captain Hassall, as he watched the two vessels. The topsails of the Frenchman soon disappeared beneath the horizon, and the shades of evening at length closing down, we were left alone on the world of waters, into which the heavy swell made us roll our sides till we almost dipped our bulwarks under—each time showers of spray being sent dripping off them. The enemy had made several shot-holes in our sides, and those were now, we found, taking in the water faster than was altogether agreeable. The carpenter and his mates had indeed hard work to stop them. I have heard of people’s hair turning white in a single night. I felt as if mine would, for it became doubtful if after all the ship would swim, from the quantity of water she was taking in. We, indeed, had reason to regret that we had allowed the frigate to leave us. At last the morning broke. We eagerly looked round the horizon. No sail was in sight. Would the ship float another day? The shot-holes had been stopped, but should bad weather again come on it would be impossible to say what would be the effect on the vessel. Noon came, but no sail was in sight. We were afraid that the cunning privateer had led the frigate a long chase, perhaps among shoals and reefs, and that she had got on shore, and that we might not see the frigate again.

“More likely that she was only the Flying Dutchman, taking a longer cruise than usual,” muttered Stubbs. “There’s no saying what tricks that fellow is not up to.”

“What, not got the Dutchman out of your head yet, Stubbs?” said Randolph. “Why, Biddulph saw his brother on board, and two or three of our people know the Phoebe, and recognised her.”

“Yes, I know that’s what often happens. The Dutchman can make his ship look like any vessel he chooses,” persisted Stubbs; “naturally—that is to say as she generally appears—she is a curious old-fashioned rigged craft—you may depend on that.”

While we were speaking—taking a breath between our labours, for all hands had been working hard—“A sail, a sail!” was shouted by one of the seamen. We all looked in the direction in which he pointed, and there appeared the upper sails of a ship. Our hopes made us believe that it was the frigate. “As likely the Frenchman come to finish us off, or maybe only the Flying Dutchman again,” said Stubbs. I thought that I detected a gleam of humour in his eye, as if he was not quite so credulous as he pretended to be. As the stranger approached, the belief that she was the Phoebe gained ground. At length those who knew her best said that there was no doubt about the matter. They were right. Before dark she hove-to close to us, and a boat with a midshipman in her boarded us. The midshipman was my brother William. He almost tumbled back with surprise at seeing me, for he did not even know that I was coming out.

“Why, James, where have you sprung from?” he exclaimed. “I am thankful to see you unhurt, for we have been anxious about you all day. Couldn’t tell how much damage the rascal might have done you. Well, he escaped after all. He has a fast pair of heels, indeed, and he led us a pretty chase, till he got in among some reefs, on which we were nearly leaving our bones. We saw our danger, however, and by the time we were clear he was out of sight.”

The boat’s crew were directed to remain on board to put the ship to rights. When, however, Captain Young found that this would occupy some time, he offered to take us in tow. A hawser was accordingly passed on board, and away we went in the wake of the frigate. Our course was for the Isle of Bourbon, lately captured from the French. At the end of a week we anchored in the Bay of Saint Paul in that island. On our way there we had done our best to get the ship in order. Our crew were now set to work in earnest, aided by some of the men of the Phoebe, who were kindly spared to us by her captain. I took the opportunity of seeing something of the island. My brother William and some of the other midshipmen of the Phoebe got leave to accompany me, and merry parties we had.

Bourbon is about one hundred and fifty miles in circumference, and rises rapidly from the sea, forming one huge blunt-topped mountain in the centre; indeed, the whole island is not unlike a big tea-cup in the middle of the ocean, with some rather large cracks, however, in it. It is generally fertile, coffee and cotton being grown on it. On the south side, a few miles from the sea, there is a volcano, which grumbled and growled, but seldom did more than send forth a little smoke. The inhabitants did not appear to be at all soured at having been placed under British rule.

Probably, indeed, it was a matter of indifference to them, for they have themselves sprung from a mixture of half the races under the sun. Many of the inhabitants are descended from some of those English pirates whose headquarters were, for nearly a hundred years, on the island of Madagascar, but who, about the middle of the seventeenth century, growing weary of their lawless calling, settled here. As their wives were mostly from Madagascar, they are somewhat darkish, but not bad-looking. They are a lively, merry race, fond of dancing, and their climate is delightful. The names of some of the families belonging to the island are derived from the English, as are those of several places. I remember a bay in Madagascar, Antongil Bay, which clearly takes its name from the well-known pirate-leader, Antony Gill, who robbed and murdered on the high seas early in the seventeenth century.

A squadron and troops were collecting here, the latter under General Abercrombie, for an expedition to the Mauritius. We were greatly disappointed, I must own, that our ship was not in a condition to proceed to sea, or we should have been chartered to convey troops and been witnesses of the triumphs we hoped they would achieve. My object is, however, to describe my own adventures in the pursuit of pacific commerce. I will thus only briefly say that the expedition arrived speedily off the Mauritius, the troops were landed, and that after some sharp fighting, by which we lost one hundred and fifty men killed and wounded, the French General, De Caen, capitulated. We had several sepoy regiments, and the French general, in order to inspire the colonial troops with contempt for them, publicly promised that whoever should capture a sepoy should have him for a slave; but the militia appear to have thought that by so doing they might possibly catch a Tartar, for not a sepoy was made prisoner.

I made some satisfactory sales at Bourbon, and as soon as the ship was repaired she followed the men-of-war to the Isle of France. The island is about thirty-five miles long, and one hundred and fifteen in circumference, with a surface greatly diversified by hill and plain, wood and plantation, with several considerable mountains, the chief of which, Le Pouce and Pieter Botte, in the neighbourhood of Port Louis, are well-known. The harbour was a complete forest of masts, filled with vessels of all sorts and sizes, from the huge line-of-battle ship to the humble canoe, not unlike a butcher’s tray, scooped out of a single log. The British flag waved triumphantly on all the batteries; and Indiamen, transport prizes, merchant craft of all descriptions, displayed English colours, in most cases flying over the French. Numerous boats, too, were plying to and fro filled with naval and military officers, captains of Indiamen, sailors, lascars, negroes, and Frenchmen, some on business, some on pleasure, but all seeming to be in a hurry. I looked out with no little curiosity for any craft which might answer the description of our late antagonist, the Mignonne. If she had entered the harbour, she had again escaped before the capture of the place, for she was nowhere to be seen. It would have been satisfactory to have seen our friend caged, but it was too probable that he was still roving over the ocean, on the watch to plunder any English craft he could venture to attack.

The scene on shore was even more animated than on the water. The streets were crowded with people of many nations: naval and military officers, English and French Government civilians, merchants and other traders, Asiatics and negroes, almost naked slaves dragging along horse-loads in carts, with mongrels of every shade of colour. The town, though in a bustle, was perfectly orderly; the shops were all open, and their owners seemed to be driving a thriving trade, as were also the keepers of taverns, which were full of visitors from fleet and camp. We fortunately had several articles among the cargo of the Barbara, of which our countrymen were much in want, not to be found in the stores of the place. They were, however, quickly disposed of, and I was then at leisure to amuse myself as I thought fit. I made several excursions on shore with my brother when he could get leave, and I had thus an opportunity of learning the productions of the island. The chief food of the lower orders and slaves is yams and the jatropha, or cassada, of which there are two species commonly known, the jatropha janipha, and the jatropha manihot. The former contains a strong vegetable poison, which is destroyed by boiling; the latter is merely slightly narcotic in its effects, and both are easily converted into wholesome food. The root, after being well washed and dried in the sun, is usually scraped into a coarse powder, from which the juice is expressed: it is then dried a second time and formed into thin cakes, very similar in appearance to Scotch barley-cakes. The bread thus made is called manioc. Tapioca is also a preparation of the root. Plantains, bananas, melons, and mangoes abound, and the last are especially fine. The climate is healthy, but the Mauritius is occasionally visited by terrific hurricanes, which commit great damage both afloat and on shore. We soon made friends among the French residents, and one of them, with whom I had had some transactions, invited William and me, and a military acquaintance, Captain Mason, to his house in the country. We were most hospitably entertained by our worthy host. The house was large and airy, with a verandah running round it on one side sufficiently broad to enable us to sit out and enjoy the cool breeze, while we sipped our coffee. We had proposed returning that evening, but the wind got up, it rained heavily, and became very dark. Our host pressed us to stay, and as William’s leave extended to the next morning we accepted his invitation, he undertaking to put my brother on board in time. Our companion, Captain Mason, was a quiet, amiable man. He was married and as he expected to remain on the island, he had, he told us, sent for his wife from the Cape of Good Hope, where he had left her. I cannot now describe the incidents of our visit.

The next morning, soon after daybreak, having taken an early breakfast of a lighter character than suited our English appetites, we drove back to Port Louis. The weather had grown worse instead of improving, and as we drew near the town we saw in the distance two vessels with English colours approaching the harbour. William had to hurry on board his ship, but Mason and I drove on to a spot where we could see them enter. One gained an anchorage in safety, but the other still continued outside, steering wildly, as if uncertain what course to take. It was soon evident that she was in great danger. While we were looking on, Captain Hassall joined us. There were a number of naval officers, masters of merchantmen, and others collected on the shore. “She is said to have a pilot on board, and an ignorant fellow he must be, or he would have anchored outside ere this if he could not get in,” observed Captain Hassall. While he was speaking, the vessel got into the swell of the sea which was dashing on the rocks close at hand. Rapidly she came drifting towards them. Probably the master then asserted his authority, for two anchors were let go. The fate of the ship, and probably of all on board, depended on the anchors holding. With deep anxiety we watched her as the huge swells came rolling in towards the rocks. A cry arose from the collected crowd—“The cables have parted—the cables have parted!” The hapless craft was lifted by the next surge, and hurried on amid the foaming breakers towards the rocks. At that instant the foresail was set, in the hopes of its helping to force her over them. It was useless; down she came with a tremendous crash on the black rocks. For a few minutes she continued beating on them, rocking to and fro in the wildest agitation; then a huge surge, which appeared to have been for some time collecting its strength, struck her on the side, and rolled her over, as if she had been merely a child’s plaything, towards the shore, to all appearance overwhelmed, so as never to rise again. The wild breakers dashed triumphantly over her, but she was not conquered, though it seemed a wonder that wood and iron should hold together under the tremendous shocks she was receiving. Once more she rose to an erect position, and it was seen that her dauntless crew were endeavouring to cut away her masts. “It is the only thing they can do to save their lives,” observed Hassall, watching them through his glass. “And see,—yes—there is a woman on board—a lady by her dress. She is clinging to the windlass—probably secured to it.” As he was speaking, the mizen-mast came down, followed quickly by the mainmast, which happily fell towards the shore. Again a surge covered the vessel. We feared that all on board would be swept from the decks; but when again the surge receded, the people were seen clinging fast as before. A boat from one of the men-of-war now approached the wreck, but the officer in command soon saw that he should only throw away his own life and the lives of those with him if he should attempt to go near enough to receive any one on board. The foremast now fell, and still the stout ship hung together. Other boats came up and got as near as it was possible to go. That those on board thought she would not hold together much longer was evident by the efforts they began to make to escape.

First we observed a man descend the foremast as if with the intention of swimming ashore. His courage, however, forsook him; he paused and returned. Again he climbed along the mast, but hesitated—it was indeed a desperate undertaking. At length he cast himself into the water: immediately he was overwhelmed. Would he ever again reach the surface? “Yes! yes! there he is,” cried out several. For a moment he was seen struggling bravely. A groan escaped from the spectators: “He’s gone! he’s gone!” “No, no, he is still floating,” many shouted out. So he was; but whirled here and there, blinded and confused, he was unable to guide himself. He was seen, happily, from one of the boats: she dashed forward, and he was hauled on board without apparently having struck a rock. All this time the people on the wreck had been watching him with intense anxiety, especially the poor lady: “If a strong and bold swimmer could scarcely be saved, what chance had she?” Hassall made the remark. “Not one would have a prospect of being saved if trusting only to his own strength; but there is a Ruler above,” said Captain Mason, who had hitherto been watching the wreck without speaking; “He may save that poor woman on the wreck as easily as the strongest seaman.” I have often since thought of my friend’s remark. It is not our own right arm, but God in heaven, without whose knowledge not a sparrow falls to the ground, who preserves us in many dangers. Captain Mason begged for the use of Hassall’s glass, and looked steadfastly through it at the wreck. “It is impossible, yet the figure is like—I cannot make it out,” I heard him say. The success of the first man induced another to attempt reaching the shore. He hurried along to the end of the mast and threw himself into the water. The boiling surges whirled him round and round—now he was concealed by the foam—now he appeared struggling onward—still it seemed scarcely possible that he could escape from the boiling cauldron—just then a broken spar floated near him. Had the end struck him he must have been lost, but it came on so that he could clutch the middle. Tightly he grasped it till like his shipmate he was floated near one of the boats and taken on board. Two other men, encouraged by the success of the first, attempted to reach the boats by the same means, but scarcely had they committed themselves to the water when a huge roller came roaring on, dashing over the ship, and as it receded swept them off far away to sea; for a moment their forms were seen struggling amidst the foam, and then they were hid for ever from human eye. The lives of the remainder on board seemed more than ever in danger. Should the storm increase, of which there seemed every probability, the ship must go to pieces, even if they were not first washed off the deck, and then what effort could save them? I was more than ever interested in their fate, when suddenly the idea occurred to me that the lady on board might be the wife of my friend Mason. I thought that he had the same idea, though he would not allow himself to entertain it, by the agitation he exhibited, and which he in vain tried to control. As yet the men who had been saved had not been brought on shore. More boats were coming down the harbour. At length a fine whale-boat was brought down not far from where we were standing. A naval officer, whose name I regret that I did not note, volunteered to take the command, and to go alongside the wreck, if volunteers could be found to man her. Hassall at once offered his services, as did several other masters of merchantmen standing by, and they were accepted. Mason and I also volunteered. “Not unless you are seamen,” was the answer. “This work requires firm nerves and skilful hands.” I must observe here that I have ever found the officers of the mercantile marine ready to go forth, in spite of all dangers, to save the lives of their fellow-creatures. Though there are exceptions, the greater number are as gallant fellows as any of those who have fought the battles of our country.

The boat was manned and ready to go off, but it became a question whether it would be wise to wait on the prospect of the sea going down, or to risk all and to go off at once on the possibility of the gale increasing. The men who had been rescued were brought on shore. Mason hurried to them, and eagerly inquired who was the woman on board. They were common seamen, and did not know her name. She was a lady, and had come on board at Cape Town just as the ship was sailing. That was all they knew. The naval officer had earnestly been watching the huge rollers as they came tumbling on towards the shore. Suddenly he cried out, “Now, gentlemen, we’ll be off.” Away went the boat amid the foaming seas towards the hapless wreck.

Chapter Six.

In troubled Waters.

Hassall had left me his telescope. I could see the people on board the wreck stretching out their hands towards the boat as she left the shore on her errand of mercy. Mason every now and then asked for the glass and looked towards the wreck. He seemed more and more convinced that the lady on board was his wife. Yet could he do nothing? Yes, he could. Though he could not exert his body I saw that he was doing all that man in his utmost extremity can do. His lips were moving, his head was bent forward, his eyes glancing at times at the boat and the ship, his hands were clasped tightly in prayer, forgetful of the crowds surrounding him. The boat, impelled by lusty strokes, darted on. She reached the wreck. The lady was lifted in. No one seemed inclined to follow. The danger was fearful. Not before, since she struck, had one of the huge rollers failed at much shorter intervals to dash over and over the ship. Should one of them overtake the boat her fate would be sealed. On came the boat towards the beach. A number of seamen rushed down into the surf to receive her and haul her up as soon as she should touch the sand. The excitement among the crowd was tremendous. Far off I saw one of these huge billows rushing onwards. If it broke before the boat could reach the beach it would overwhelm her. The least excited of the crowd, to all appearance, was my friend Captain Mason. He advanced slowly towards the spot which it seemed probable the boat would reach, then he stopped for a moment. On she came, her keel grated on the sand, sturdy shoulders bore her along upwards, and ere the coming roller burst she was safe beyond its reach. The lady lay almost overcome in the stern sheets. Mason uttered his wife’s name, she looked up, and in another moment she was placed in his arms. A communication was afterwards established between the wreck and the shore, and most of the crew landed before the gale again came down with redoubled fury. By the morning scarce a vestige of the ship remained. I had the pleasure of seeing Mrs Mason completely recovered two days afterwards, and thankful for her providential escape.

My brother William got leave of absence for three or four days, and he was anxious to spend the time in a cruise along the coast, and to get me to accompany him. I had wound up my mercantile business at the place, but as the Barbara would be detained a few days longer to complete her repairs, in a weak moment I consented to his proposal, as if we had not enough knocking about on salt water in the pursuit of our professional duties. It is difficult to put old heads on young shoulders. We did not remember that it was still the stormy season, and that the natives might not be so inclined to be civil to us, their late conquerors, coming in a half-decked boat with fowling-pieces, as they would had we appeared under the protection of the frigate’s guns.

We agreed that it would be as well to have companions. I asked O’Carroll, who was very ready to come, and William brought a friend, whom he introduced as “My messmate, Toby Trundle.” His name was a curious one—at first I did not suppose that it was anything but a nickname—and he himself was one of the oddest little fellows I ever met. From the first glance I had of him, I fancied that he was rather a young companion for my brother, but a second look showed me that he was fully his age. We had hired a craft, a schooner-rigged, half-decked boat, about five-and-twenty feet long, with a well aft, in which we could sit comfortably enough. She was not a bad boat for smooth water, but if caught in a heavy sea, very likely to drown all on board.

Our crew consisted of a Frenchman, Paul Jacotot, the owner of the Dorè, as our craft was called, his son Auguste, a boy of thirteen, and Jack Nobs, a boy I brought from the Barbara. The Frenchman was to act as pilot and cook. The boys were to scrape the potatoes—or rather prepare the yams, for we had none of the former root—and tend the head-sheets. A boatswain’s mate, Sam Kelson, who had been in hospital, had been allowed to accompany the midshipmen before returning on board. The two midshipmen were to act as officers. O’Carroll, whom they did not know was a sailor, and I, were to be passengers, and the rest of the party were rated as crew. We had laid in all sorts of provisions, an ample supply for the few days we were to be away. Port Louis, it must be remembered, is on the north side of the island, and we had agreed to make our cruise to the eastward, where there are some small islands—Gunners Coin and Flat Island. If the wind should prove favourable we hoped to circumnavigate the island. With a fair breeze off the land, and Le Pouce seen standing up astern beyond the town, we sailed out of the harbour, the weather being as fine as heart could desire. William and Toby Trundle took it by turns to steer, Jacotot pointing out the dangers to be avoided, for we kept close in shore for the sake of the scenery. Toby Trundle sat aft steering, looking, in a broad-brimmed straw hat, a white jacket and trowsers, contrasting with his sunburnt complexion, more like a monkey than a midshipman. Jacotot, when not engaged in any culinary matter below, was jabbering away at a rapid rate to us, if we would listen; if not, he was addressing his son, whom he kept constantly on the move, now scolding, now praising with terms of tender endearment.

We enjoyed ourselves, and lunched and dined with great contentment, voting Jacotot a first-rate chef, which he undoubtedly was. He was, however, a better cook than seaman we before long discovered.

“The next prize we take I hope that we shall find some cooks on board; we must secure one for our mess,” observed Toby, helping himself to one of the dishes Jacotot had sent aft. I had not been long on board before I found out, what seemed to have escaped the midshipmen’s observation when they hired the boat, that the rigging was sadly rotten, and that she herself was in a somewhat leaky condition. They, however, only laughed at the leaking. “It will keep the boat sweet, and give Jack Nobs and Auguste something to do,” observed Master Trundle, cocking his eye at me. Notwithstanding this, we stood on, the breeze shifting conveniently in our favour till nightfall, when we put into a small harbour, the entrance to which our pilot for a wonder knew. The next day we continued our course, landing in a bay, up which we ran to have a look at the country, and to get some goat’s milk and fruit. We found a small farm, the only white people being an old-fashioned Frenchman, with a somewhat dingy wife, and two grown-up daughters. All the rest of the people were either brown Orientals or black Africans. The old Frenchman was very civil, merely shrugged his shoulders when he saw our flag, and observed that it was the fortune of war, and that, as we were the most numerous, France had lost no honour, though she lost the dependency. He supplied us for a trifle with a bottle of goat’s milk, and as many melons, pines, and mangoes as we could manage to eat. He politely assisted in taking them down to the boat. As he did so he looked round the horizon seaward, and up at the sky. “Messieurs will do well to remain at anchor for a few hours longer,” he observed. “We are going to have a change of weather. It may be slight, or it may be very great, and you will be more content on shore than at sea.” We thanked him for his advice, but the midshipmen asserting that if we stopped they might not be able to rejoin their ship at the right time, it was disregarded. On standing out again, however, we saw that the hope of getting round the island was vain, and that our surest course would be to return by the way we had come. The weather soon changed; ugly clouds collected and came sweeping up from the west and south, though as yet but little wind filled our sails.

“I am afraid that we are going to have a storm,” I observed.

“Oh, no fear; I don’t think that there will be anything in it,” answered Toby Trundle.

“I think that there’ll be a great deal in it, and I would advise you gentlemen to make the best of your way back to the bay we have just left,” said O’Carroll.

The midshipmen looked at him as much as to say, What do you know about the matter? Jacotot was too busy cooking an omelette to attend to the weather, or he should have warned us. The question was settled by a sudden gust which came off the land, and laid the boat on her beam-ends. I thought we were going to capsize, and so we should, but crack away went both our masts, and the boat righted, one-third full of water. We all looked at each other for a moment aghast. It was a mercy that no one was washed overboard. A second and stronger gust followed the first, and on drove the boat helplessly before it. “You’ll pump and bale out the water, and get on board the wreck of the masts,” said O’Carroll, quietly.

We followed his advice as best we could. Jacotot, who was attending to his little stove below when the squall struck us, popped up his head with his white nightcap on, and his countenance so ludicrously expressive of dismay that, in spite of the danger we were in, Trundle burst into a fit of laughter. The Frenchman had not time to get out before the vessel righted. He now emerged completely, and frantically seizing his cap, tore it off his head and threw it into the boiling water. He then joined in hauling on board the wreck of the rigging.

“If we are to save our lives we must forthwith rig a jury-mast, so as to keep the boat before the gale,” observed O’Carroll.

With the aid of a wood-axe we knocked out the stump of the foremast, and making a fresh heel to the broken spar, managed, in spite of the rolling of the boat, to slip it into its place. This was done not a moment too soon. The wind increased so rapidly, and blew with such fearful violence, that we should have been unable to accomplish the task, though as yet there was not much sea.

O’Carroll showed that he was a man for an emergency. “This will be more than a gale,” he observed; “it will be a regular hurricane! we may expect that. But still, if we manage properly, we may save our lives.”

Close-reefing the foresail, we got it ready to hoist as a square sail; the rest of the spars we lashed fore and aft on either side, while we cut up the mainsail and raised the gunwale a foot or more all round to help keep out the water. We also, as far as we could, covered in the after-part of the little craft. While we were thus engaged the boys were pumping and baling. This task was scarcely accomplished before the wind had blown us helplessly so far off the land that we became exposed to the full violence of the sea, which had rapidly risen. The water was leaping on every side tumultuously—the foam flying in thick masses off it—each sea, as it rose high above our heads, threatening to overwhelm us.

We gazed wistfully at the land which we had so unwisely left, but we had no power of returning there. Our only prospect of passing amidst the heavy seas now rolling around us was to hoist our sail and scud before the wind.

O’Carroll now took the helm. “I have had more experience in these seas than you, young gentlemen, and the slightest want of care may send such a craft as this to the bottom!” he observed.

Without a word, they set to work to pump and bale. Even Trundle grew serious. Jacotot every now and then stopped pumping or baling, or whatever he was about, and pulled his hair, and made a hideous face, scolded Auguste, telling him to depechez vites, and then set to work himself harder than ever. The English seamen worked away without saying a word beyond what was absolutely necessary. Jack Nobs behaved very well, but cried in sympathy when Auguste was scolded. The latter always blubbered on till his father ceased speaking. I could not help remarking what I have described, notwithstanding the fearful danger we were running. The sky was of an almost inky hue, while the sea was of the colour of lead, frosted over with the driving spray torn off from the summits of the tossing seas by the fury of the wind. Our stump of a mast, as well as our sail, had been well secured, though I dreaded every instant to see the ring-bolts, to which the ropes had been made fast, dragged out of the sides, and the rotten boat torn to pieces.

Thus on we flew, right into the Indian Ocean, though in what direction we could only guess, for our compass, like everything belonging to the craft, was defective. Intending only to make a coasting trip, we had no chart, except one of the island from which we were now being driven rapidly away. To be in a gale of wind on board a stout ship in the open sea, is a fine thing once in one’s life, but to have to sit in a rotten boat, with a hurricane driving her, one knows not where, across the ocean, is a very different matter. Our only prospect of saving our lives, humanly speaking, was to keep the boat dead before the wind; a moment’s careless steering might have caused our destruction.

We were all so busy in pumping or baling that we had no time to watch each other’s countenances, or we might have seen alarm and anxiety depicted on them as the rising seas came following up astern, threatening to engulf us. I felt for the young brother who was with me, so lighthearted and merry, and yet so little prepared for the eternity into which any moment we might be plunged. After fervent inward prayer, my own mind was comforted, so much so that I was able to speak earnest words, not only to my young brother, but to the others. Trundle and Jack looked very serious, but rather bewildered, as if they could not comprehend what was said.

Such is, I fear, too often the case under such circumstances. I remembered how, a few days before, I had seen Mason praying at a time of the utmost extremity, and I urged my companions to pray for themselves. Jacotot was the only person who seemed averse to listen to the word of truth. Though he had raged and pulled his hair with grief at the injury done to his vessel, he could not bring himself to care for anything beyond the passing moment. But while the rest grew calm and resigned, he became more and more agitated and alarmed. In each sea which rolled up after us in the distance he saw the messenger which was to summon him to destruction. Poor little Auguste could only cry with fear of the undefined. He had never been taught to believe in anything, and thus he could not even believe in the reality of death till he was in its grasp.

Under the circumstances in which we were placed, people can talk but little, though the thoughts crowd through the mind with frightful rapidity. Unless when occupied, we for most of the time sat silent, watching the ocean. Night was coming on, and the fury of the tempest had in no way decreased. It was difficult to steer in the daytime—it was doubly difficult and dangerous at night. After O’Carroll had been steering for some time, Trundle begged that he might again take the helm.

“Trust me,” he said, “I have been in a gale of wind in an open boat before now, and know how to steer carefully.”

“But you’ve not steered in a hurricane in the Indian seas, Mr Trundle,” answered O’Carroll. “Any moment the wind may shift round, and if we were to be taken aback, it would be all over with us. As long as I can keep my eyes open I’ll stay where I am, if you please.” And O’Carroll was as good as his word; hour after hour he sat there, as we rushed on up and down the watery hills through the pitchy darkness—it was indeed a long, long night. Though we had eaten nothing since the hurricane came on, we were all of us rather weary than hungry. As for sleepiness, that was very far from any one. When compelled to rest, we could employ our thoughts in little else than wishing for daylight, and hoping that the storm would soon cease. It was a relief to be called on to pump or bale, for the increasing leaks required three of us at a time to be actively engaged in both operations. But I am wrong in saying that I could think of nothing except my own fearful peril. Frequently I thought of my dear mother and other loved ones at home. The thought gave me comfort and courage, and cheered me up through the horrors of the night. Daylight came at last, and revealed the tumultuous ocean on every side, but not a speck of land was visible. Trundle was the first to exclaim that he was hungry; but to light a fire was almost impossible, and even Jacotot could not have cooked by it had it been lighted. We managed, however, to serve out some bread and the old Frenchman’s fruit to all hands, and then we had to turn to and clear the craft of water, which was finding its way in through every seam. It seemed scarcely possible that she could float much longer, should the hurricane continue, with the violent working to which we were exposed. Had we been stationary, the tempest would have passed over us; but driven along with it, we had for a much longer time to endure its fury. It seemed, indeed, surprising that the boat should have floated so long. As far as we depended, indeed, on our own exertions, the most careful steering could alone have saved us. We had been longing for daylight; now that it had come, the dangers of our condition appeared more evident, and we almost wished again for night. We could not calculate, either, in what direction we were being driven, but we feared it might be where rocks and coral banks and islets abound, and that at any moment we might be hurled on one of them. O’Carroll still sat at his post. I asked if he did not feel tired. “Maybe, but till the gale is over, here I’ll stick!” he answered. “And sure it’s as pretty a sample of a hurricane as any of you’ll be after wishing to see for many a day to come.”

At length, towards noon, the wind began to fall, and in a very short time, though it still blew hard, and the sea ran almost as high as before, and was consequently as dangerous, it was evident that the hurricane was over. Our hopes revived. Still, we were obliged to run on before the wind; and to avoid the danger of being pooped by the quickly-following sea, we had to hoist more of our sail: indeed, we now dreaded not having wind enough to avoid the sea. Thus passed the day, and before nightfall we were rolling on a tolerably smooth swell with a moderate breeze. Still we had to exert ourselves as before to keep the boat afloat. The moment, however, that one of us was relieved at the pump or baling bucket, he dropped off to sleep. I was even afraid, at first, that we should all go to sleep together. Nothing, indeed, for some hours could rouse up the two boys. My young brother and Trundle were, however, after a short snooze, as lively as ever, and as merry too. Midshipmen-like, they did not seem to trouble themselves about the future. I, however, still felt very anxious about it. The Southern Cross and many another bright constellation not long familiar to my eyes were shining forth in the clear sky. Had we known our position, even though we had no compass, we might have shaped a course for the Mauritius. We calculated that we had been driven two hundred miles away from it in the direction of the equator. Should we steer south we were as likely to miss as to find it. We proposed, therefore, to steer to the west, knowing that we must thus reach some part of the coast of Madagascar, where the English had at that time a fort and a garrison. “But we must have our craft rigged before we talk of the course we’ll steer,” observed O’Carroll, who at that moment awoke from a long sleep. With the morning light we set to work to fit a mainmast, and to rig the boat as best we could. There was a light breeze, but as it was from the west we lay without any canvas set.

While all hands were busily employed fitting the rigging, I looked up and saw a brig under all sail approaching us at no great distance. Beyond her was another vessel, a ship—I pointed her out. O’Carroll took the telescope.

“She’s an English vessel chased by an enemy,” he observed. “She’ll not stop to help us, so the closer we lie the better.” He kept after this continually taking up the glass for some time, when suddenly he exclaimed, “As I’m an Irishman, it’s that villain La Roche again!”

His countenance fell as he spoke. He handed me the glass—I took a steady look at the ship, and had little doubt that it was our old antagonist the Mignonne in sight.

Chapter Seven.

“Breakers Ahead!”

Our chief hope of escaping an unpleasant examination by the pirate existed in the possibility that we had not been observed from her deck. Had we had any sail set we could not fail to have been so. Not, we knew, that so small a craft as ours would be considered worth overhauling; but in case we might give information of the pirate’s whereabouts, it might be thought expedient to put us out of the way. So we feared. We therefore watched the progress of the Mignonne and the brig with intense interest, earnestly hoping that the latter would lead the pirate a long chase before she was captured, if she could not escape altogether, which of course we hoped she would. La Roche had certainly managed to inspire O’Carroll with an extraordinary dread and hatred of him, for brave and calm in danger as our friend had lately shown himself to be, he was now completely unnerved, and I saw him crouching down in the boat as if, even had she been seen, he could have been distinguished. On sailed the brig; gradually her sails began to disappear below the horizon. The pirate still continued the chase. For some time no one in the boat thought of working. We were roused up by finding that the water was rapidly gaining on us, and we all had to turn to and pump and bale harder than ever. We were in hopes that after all the brig might escape, when the boom of a gun came over the water, followed by another and another. It was too probable that the pirate had got her within range. Both vessels had now disappeared below the horizon, at the same time the wind where we were had completely died away. As far as the pirate was concerned, we began to breathe more freely; it was not likely that he would again pass near us. But the sun shone forth from the clear sky with intense heat, roasting our heads and the brains within them, and making whatever pitch remained between the planks of our deck bubble up as if it had been boiling. There we lay, our boat rolling from side to side, without a particle of shade to shelter us. Our little cabin was like an oven. When we were to rest it became simply a question whether in making the attempt we should be roasted on deck or baked below. We had not much time for idleness yet: though we worked very hard, it was not till nightfall that our rigging was set up sufficiently to enable us to make sail.

When the sun set there was not a breath of air, while the surface of the ocean was as smooth as a sheet of glass, though every now and then a swell rose under the boat’s keel, making her roll for ten minutes afterwards, while it glided slowly away in the distance. The only sounds were the clank of the pump and the dash of water from the scuppers or buckets, and an occasional snort of some huge fish, or the splash it made when plunging down into its liquid home. Thus the hours of the night passed away. We were so weary and sleepy that the instant we were relieved from the pump we lay down and were lost in forgetfulness. The day broke, the sun rose higher and higher, and beat hotter and hotter, and all around us was the same smooth, glassy ocean. Now and then the surface was broken by a flight of flying fish as they rose out of it and darted along through the air, glittering bright in the sunbeams, like a covey of silver birds.

“Ah, now! if some of you would just have the goodness to come aboard here, you would serve us nicely for breakfast,” exclaimed Trundle, as he observed them.

He had scarcely spoken when upwards of a dozen out of a large shoal leaped, or flew rather, right in among us, while as many more passed clean over the boat. It was a curious coincidence, and at all events afforded us not only a substantial, but a very delicious meal, cooked by the skilful hands of Monsieur Jacotot. It put us all in good spirits, and we began to look at the future in a tolerably hopeful spirit, till my midshipman brother exclaimed—

“I say, if this sun lasts much longer, what shall we do for grub? The sea-pie we have brought has gone bad, and I am afraid that the beef and pork won’t keep good many hours out of the brine.”

“You may put them in the past instead of the future tense, my boy,” observed Trundle, who had been examining the lockers; “I doubt if any stomach with less powers than a shark’s could swallow a bit of the meat we have got on board.”

“Then on what have we got to exist till we can reach the shore?” I asked, with a feeling of serious anxiety.

“Why,” answered William, “we have biscuits and half a cheese—at least we had half when we sailed, but it is rather gone—and a few mangoes, and bananas, and plantains, and a melon or two, and some tea and coffee, and sugar. I am afraid we haven’t much else, except a cask of water, and that was rather leaky, like this craft.”

“Then let us look to the cask, gentlemen,” said O’Carroll. “And don’t throw the meat away, putrid though it may be. The Frenchman may cook it so as to make it go down, and we don’t know how hard we may be pressed for food.”

The water-cask was examined, happily not altogether too late, but a third of the precious liquid had run out. I said nothing, but sad forebodings filled my mind. Even with a compass to steer by and a good breeze to carry us along, we might be several days reaching Port Louis, or, indeed, any habitable coast we could make. We might be kept out much longer, and then how could we exist? We could scarcely hope that another covey of flying fish would come on board, though we might catch some others if we could manufacture hooks, for I was afraid we had none on board. This calm might continue for a week, and then we might have another gale, for we were in the hurricane season. I advised that we should at once go on an allowance of food and water, a suggestion which was, of course, adopted. We had no fishing lines or hooks on board; a bit of an old file was, however, discovered, and with it and a hammer Jacotot undertook to make some hooks, while Kelson spun some fine yarn for lines.

“I shall have plenty of time,” observed the Frenchman, with a wan smile and a shrug of the shoulders, “for without the fish I shall have nothing to cook.”

Two days passed, and though the hooks were in use we caught nothing, and some of the party began to wish that the pirate had picked us up. Two days more passed: matters had become very serious. Hunger was gnawing at our insides, and what seemed even worse, thirst was parching our lips and throats. With the intense heat we were enduring, gallons of water would scarcely have satisfied us, and we each had but a small wineglass full three times a day. When that was gone, as long as our fuel lasted we could get a little water by condensing the steam from our kettle. Our thirst became intolerable; yet the few drops, we did get kept us, I believe, alive. I do not wish to dwell on that time. My own sufferings were great, but they were increased by seeing those of my young brother and his lighthearted companion, both of them about, as I feared, to pass away from the world they had found so enjoyable. The sun rose, and set, and rose again, and each day it appeared to send down its heat with an increased intensity of strength as we grew weaker and weaker. A new danger threatened us: we could even now scarcely keep the boat clear of water; should our strength fail altogether, as seemed but too probable, she would sink below us. Our lot was that which many poor seamen have endured, but that did not make it more supportable to us.

Our last particle of food had been eaten, the last drop of water nearly exhausted. The strongest might endure for a day or two, the weakest ones must sink within a few hours. Even O’Carroll, strong as he seemed, was giving way. He sat dull and unconscious, his eyes meaningless, only arousing himself by a great effort. My brother’s head rested on my arm, and I was moistening his lips with the few drops obtained from the cask. Suddenly Kelson, who had been gazing round the horizon, started up, crying out, “A breeze! a breeze! I see it coming over the water!”

I turned my eyes to the west, the direction to which he pointed. There I saw a dark-blue line quickly advancing towards us. Even already, on either side, cat’s-paws were to be seen just touching the surface, then vanishing again, once more to appear in a different direction as the light currents of air, precursors of the main body of the wind, touched the surface. The effect on our fainting party was magical; even the poor boys tried to lift up their languid eyes to look around. Another shout from Kelson a few minutes afterwards roused us all still more. “A sail! a sail! She’s standing this way too!”

Even Jacotot, who had completely given way to despair, started to his feet at the sound, and, weak though he was, performed such strange antics expressive of his joy on the little deck that I thought he would have gone overboard.

“If you’ve got all that life in you, Mounseer, just turn to at the pump again and make some use of it, instead of jigging away like an overgrown jackanapes!” growled out Kelson, who held the poor Frenchman in great contempt for having knocked under, as he called it, so soon.

Jacotot gave another skip or two, and then, seizing the pump-handle, or break, as it is called, burst into tears. The two midshipmen and boys soon relapsed into their former state, while O’Carroll seemed to forget that relief was approaching, till on a sudden the idea seized him that the stranger which was now rapidly nearing us was no other than the Mignonne, though she had been last seen in an opposite direction, and there had been a dead calm ever since. “Arrah! we’ll all be murdered entirely by that thief of the world, La Roche, bad luck to him!” he cried out, wringing his hands. “It was an unlucky day that I ever cast eyes on his ugly face for the first time, and now he’s after coming back again to pick me up in the middle of the Indian Ocean, just as a big black crow does a worm out of a turnip-field!”

In vain I tried to argue him out of the absurdity of his notion. He turned sharply round on me.

“It’s desaving me now ye are, and that isn’t the part of a true friend, Mr James Braithwaite!” he exclaimed. “Just try how he’ll treat you, and then tell me how you like his company.”

I saw that there was not the slightest use reasoning with him, but that it would be necessary to watch him, lest in his frenzy he should jump overboard. As the dreadful idea came on me that he might do so, I saw the black fin of the seaman’s sworn foe, a shark, gliding toward us, and a pair of sharp eyes looking wistfully up towards me, so I fancied, as if the creature considered the leaky boat and its contents a dainty dish prepared for his benefit. It made me set to work to bale with all the strength I could muster. Seeing me so employed, O’Carroll for a moment forgot his mad idea, and followed my example. Often and often I turned my gaze towards the approaching ship. It seemed even still open to doubt whether she would pass near enough to observe us.

At length the breeze reached us, and hoisting our sails as well as our strength would allow, we stood in a direction to come across the course the stranger was steering. I told Kelson, in a whisper, to assist me in keeping a watch on O’Carroll, for as we drew nearer the stranger, so did his uneasiness increase, and he was evidently still under the impression that she was the dreaded Mignonne. William and Trundle looked at her with lack-lustre eyes. I asked Kelson what he thought she was. “A small Chinaman, or a store-ship, maybe, sir,” he answered. “She’s English, certainly, by the cut of her sails.”

“You hear what he says,” I observed to O’Carroll. “I think the same myself. We shall be treated as friends when we get on board.”

“Ye are after desaving me, I know ye are,” cried the poor fellow, turning round and giving a reproachful glance at me. “Don’t ye see the ugly villain La Roche himself standing on the cathead ready to order his crew of imps to fire as soon as we get within range of their guns?”

This notion so tickled Kelson’s fancy that he fairly burst into a fit of laughter, in which I and the rest of the party faintly joined, from very weakness, for most of them had not heard what was said. Even O’Carroll himself imitated us. Suddenly he stopped. “It’s no laughing matter, though, let me tell you,” he observed gravely, after some time had elapsed, and the stranger had neared us so that we could see the people on deck. “But where’s La Roche? Oh, I see, he’s aft there, grinning at us as usual.” He pointed to a most respectable-looking old gentleman, who was, I supposed, the master of the ship.

“You are mistaken in that,” said I, feeling the importance of keeping him quiet till he could be got on board. “If that is the Mignonne, she has been captured, and is in possession of a British crew. You’ll see that I am right directly.”

The ship was shortening sail as I spoke. We were soon alongside. Even at a distance our pitiable condition had been observed. We were one after the other hoisted on deck, for even Kelson could scarcely get up without help. I gave a hint to the doctor to look after O’Carroll. “I am right,” I remarked to my friend. “If La Roche is on board, he is safe under hatches; so the best thing you can do is to turn in, and go to sleep. You want rest more than any of us.”

Led by the surgeon, he went quietly below, and I hoped with soothing medicine and sleep would be soon all to rights again.

The ship proved to be, not what Kelson had supposed, but a vessel with free emigrants bound out to the rising town of Sydney, in New South Wales—a colony generally called Botany Bay, established some few years before, by Captain Phillips of the navy, chiefly with convicts and the necessary soldiers to look after them. We had just told our tale, and the passengers had expressed their sympathy for us, when I heard Jacotot give a loud cry of dismay. On looking over the side the cause was explained—the masts of our unhappy little craft were just disappearing under the surface. This was the natural consequence of our neglecting to pump her out, and the ship, which was going ahead, dragging her through the water, when of course it rushed in through her open seams with redoubled speed. Poor Jacotot tore his hair and wrung his hands, and wept tears of grief for his wretched craft; but he did not gain as much sympathy as would have been shown him had he been more quiet, though our new friends congratulated us the more warmly in having got out of her before she met her fate. Food and rest quickly set most of us to rights, and the following day William and Trundle and I were able to take our places at the cabin table with the rest of the passengers. O’Carroll was kept in bed with fever, though he had got over his idea that La Roche was on board. The old gentleman he had mistaken for him proved to be a minister of the gospel, who had been invited to accompany a party of the emigrants.

We found that things were not going on in at all a satisfactory way on board. The master had died before the ship reached the Cape: the first officer, Mr Gregson, who had now charge, was obstinate and self-opinionated when sober, and he was very frequently intoxicated; the second was a stupid fellow and no navigator; and both were jealous of the third, who was a superior, intelligent young man, and in numerous ways they did their utmost to annoy him. This accounted for the good ship, the Kangaroo, being very much out of her proper course, which was far to the southward of where she picked us up. Most disastrous consequences were to occur. William and Trundle told me that they had been making their observations; that they wondered how the ship had got thus far, and that they should be much surprised if she got much farther. A very large proportion of the ships cast away and lives sacrificed are so in consequence of the habitual intoxication of the masters and their officers. I venture to make this distinct assertion from the very numerous instances I have known and heard of. We did not wish to alarm the passengers, none of whom had been at sea before, and were not aware of the danger they were running. Had our schooner still floated, I should have proposed taking her to the first island we could make and there repairing her. We asked Mr Gregson if he would undertake to land us at Port Louis, offering him at the same time payment if he would do so; but he positively refused, declaring that nothing should induce him to go out of his course, and that we must stick to the ship and work our passage till she reached her destination.

Believing that, as he was short-handed, his object in detaining us was to get more hands to work the ship, this we positively refused to do. “Very well, then, we’ll see who is master on board the Kangaroo,” he replied, with an oath. “You tell me that three of you belong to a man-of-war; but I find you in a French boat, and how do I know that you are not deserters or convicts? and I’ll treat you as such if you don’t look out.” This conduct was so unexpected, and so different from the kind way in which we had been treated by the passengers, that we did not know what to say. We agreed to wait till we could consult O’Carroll; and Trundle undertook to get a look at the chart the captain was using, and to try and find out where he had placed the ship. The wind had hitherto continued very light, so that we had made but little way since we came on board. The day following the unpleasant conversation I have described, O’Carroll was so much recovered that he was able to come on deck. Though Irishmen have not the character in general of being good seamen, I considered from what I had seen of him that he was an exception to the general rule. I told him what we had remarked.

“When the time comes I’ll see what I can do,” he answered; “but it is ticklish work interfering with such fellows as the present master of this ship, unless one advises the very thing one does not want done.”

“We may soon require the exercise of your skill,” I remarked. “It appears to me that there will speedily be a change in the weather.”

“Little doubt about that, and we shall have it hot and strong again soon,” he answered, looking round the horizon.

“Not another hurricane, I hope,” said I.

“Not quite sure about that,” he answered. “Were I master of this ship I should make all snug for it; but if I were to advise Gregson to do so, he’d only crack on more sail to show his superior seamanship. I’ve had a talk with the surgeon, McDow, a very decent sort of young fellow, and so I know the man we have to deal with.”

An hour or two after this, the wind had increased to half a gale, and the Kangaroo was tearing away through the sea with a great deal more sail than a prudent seaman would have carried. Unfortunately William or Trundle had remarked that it was much more important to shorten sail on the appearance of bad weather on board a short-handed merchantman, than on board a man-of-war with a strong crew. I saw O’Carroll looking anxiously aloft, and then again to windward. At last he could stand it no longer.

“You’ll let the wind take the topmasts out of the ship if you don’t look out, Captain Gregson,” he remarked.

“What business have you to come aboard this ship and to pretend to teach me?” answered the master, who was more than half drunk. “If you do, take care. I’ll turn you out of her, and let you find your own way ashore.”

While he was speaking a loud crack was heard, and the mizen-topmast was carried over the side. This made him order the crew aloft to shorten sail. “You go too, you lazy youngsters!” he exclaimed, seeing William and Trundle on deck.

They sprung up the rigging without a word of reply. I watched them with great anxiety, for the masts bent like whips, and I was afraid every moment to see the main share the fate of the mizen-mast, to the destruction of all on the yards. Still the master, as if indifferent to what might happen, was not even looking aloft. The two midshipmen had just reached the top, and were about to lie along the yard, when O’Carroll shouted: “Down, all of you; down, for your lives!”

His voice arrested their progress, and two of the men already on the yards sprang back into the top; but the warning came too late for the rest. A tremendous squall struck the ship. Over she heeled, till the lee bulwarks were under water. A loud crash followed. Away went the main-topmast, and yard, and struggling sail, carrying six human beings with it. Five were hurled off into the now foaming sea. We saw them for an instant stretching out their arms, as if imploring that help which it was beyond our power to give. The ship dashed onward, leaving them far astern. One still clung to the rigging towing with the spar alongside. The ship still lay almost on her beam-ends.

O’Carroll saw the possibility of saving the poor fellow. Calling out to me to lay hold of a rope, one end of which he fastened round his waist, he plunged overboard. I could scarcely have held it, had not William and Trundle with Kelson come to my assistance. O’Carroll grasped the man. “Haul away!” he shouted. In another instant he was on board again, with the man in his arms. The helm was put up, the ship righted, the man had got off the foreyard, and away the ship new, with the fore-topsail wildly bulging out right before the wind. In a few minutes it was blown from the bolt-ropes in strips, twisted and knotted together. The mainsail, not without difficulty, was handed, and we continued to run on under the foresail, the only other sail which remained entire, and it seemed very probable that that would soon be blown away.

All this time the terror of the unfortunate passengers was very great—the more so that it was undefined. They saw the captain, however, every now and then come into the cabin and toss off a tumbler of strong rum-and-water, and then return on deck, and shout out with oaths often contradictory orders. The gale all this time was increasing, until it threatened to become as violent as the hurricane from which we had escaped. I could not help wishing that we had not left our leaky little schooner. We might have reached some land in her. Now we did not know where we were going, except towards a region of rocks and sandbanks on which any moment the ship might be hurled. For ourselves it would be bad enough; but hard indeed for the poor women and children, of whom there were a dozen or more on board, several of them helpless infants.

As I looked on the man who was thus perilling the lives of his fellow-creatures by his senseless brutality, I could not help thinking what a load of guilt rested on his head. His face was flushed, his features distorted, his eyes rolling wildly, as he walked with irregular steps up and down the deck, or ever and anon descended to the cabin to gaze stupidly at his chart, which was utterly useless, and to take a fresh draught of the liquor which had brought him to that state. Yet he was a fine, good-looking fellow, and pleasant-mannered enough when sober and not opposed. I have known several such, who have for years deceived their owners and others on shore, led by outward appearance, till some fearful catastrophe has been the result of their pernicious habits.

Night came. The ship continued her mad career through the darkness; the wind howling and whistling, the loose ropes lashing furiously against the masts, and the sea roaring around. Below all was confusion. Numerous articles had broken adrift and were rolling about, the passengers crouched huddled together in the cabin endeavouring to avoid them. Mothers pressed their children to their bosoms; the men were asking each other what was next to happen. The answer came with fearful import. “Breakers ahead! Breakers ahead!” There was a tremendous crash, every timber in the ship shook. She was on the rocks.

Chapter Eight.

A complete Wreck.

“Cut away the masts—the shrouds first! Be smart, my men!” cried a voice.

“Who dares give that order?” shrieked out the captain; “she’ll be over this in no time.”

“I dare obey it!” exclaimed one of the seamen. “Come, lads, it’s the best chance of saving our lives.”

The men listened to the advice of their messmate, and, knowing where to find the axes, quickly severed the shrouds of the mizen-mast, and some attacked it, while others went to the mainmast, in spite of the mad cries of the captain to “hold fast.” Their object was thus to force the ship over the reef—if it was a reef we were on—head first, or closer to the shore if we were on an island. The seas came thundering against our sides, often dashing over the decks, so that with difficulty any of us could save ourselves from being carried away by them. Several poor people were thus swept away soon after the ship struck, and their despairing shrieks rang in our ears as they were borne away or hurled on the rocks amid the foaming breakers. We could see nothing beyond the ship except the troubled waters. Our chief hope rested on her not being wedged in the rocks. Now she lifted and drove on her bottom, grinding over the coral; now down she came again, and rocked to and fro in the surges. Directly the after masts were cleared away, her head paid off, and we drove on stern first. It was pitiable to hear the cries which rose from the terrorstricken passengers, but as we could as yet give them no comfort, I refrained from going below. William and Trundle, O’Carroll and I, stood together holding on to the stump of the mainmast; the Frenchman and his son had gone below at the commencement of the gale. I hoped that they were still there. The ship continued alternately grinding and bumping along, but still evidently progressing over the reef. She must have been new and well built, or she would have gone to pieces with the treatment she was receiving. Our anxiety was thus prolonged, for it was impossible to say, supposing the ship should drive over the reef, whether we should find land, and if not whether she would float. It seemed as if each blow she received must be knocking a hole through her planks. Oh! how we longed for daylight, at all events to see and face the dangers which beset us! In the dark we could do nothing but hold on for our lives and pray to be preserved from destruction.

At length the ship was lifted by a huge wave. On she drove. It seemed that the next time she came down on the hard rocks it must be to her destruction. On, on she went; the waters roared and hissed around her. Instead of the expected catastrophe, suddenly she appeared to be floating with comparative calmness; she had been forced over the reef, but the furious wind was still driving her before it.

“We should anchor this instant!” said O’Carroll; but neither the master nor his mates were on deck to give the necessary orders. “Stand by to anchor!” cried O’Carroll.

The two midshipmen, with Kelson and several of the crew, hurried to carry out the order. Some delay occurred in consequence of the darkness. At length the anchor was let go, but as the ship’s stern swung round it struck heavily on a rock. Again cries of terror came up from the passengers in the cabins; I therefore, as I could be of no use on deck, went below in the hopes of tranquillising their minds. They clung round me as I appeared, entreating to be told the truth. I assured them that there was no immediate danger, and that, though the ship had again struck on the rocks, there was so much less sea inside the reef than what she had already gone through, I hoped she might continue to hold together. In all probability we were not far off land. Some, on hearing this, especially those who had been most overcome with terror, expressed their joy in all sorts of extravagant ways, and seemed to consider that there was no longer any danger to be apprehended; others, again, would scarcely credit what I told them, and inquired what the captain thought on the subject.

“The captain! What does he know about anything?” exclaimed a young man, who appeared to be superior in education to most of the passengers. “If the ship is lost, and our lives sacrificed, on him will rest the blame. Look there!”

He threw open the door of the captain’s cabin, where he and the first mate sat, both far too tipsy to move, yet still trying to pour spirits down their throats.

“What’s that you say?” growled out the captain, with an indistinct utterance; “I’ll have no mutiny aboard this ship.”

He endeavoured to rise, but fell forward across the table, upsetting the bottle and tumblers. The mate was too far gone even to attempt to rise. He gazed at us with an idiotic glance for a minute or two, then his head dropped down on the little table at which he was sitting. It must be understood that all this time the ship was far from quiet; she was still grinding and striking heavily against the rocks, though the sea had not sufficient force to lift her over them. I hurried again on deck; my fear was that the ship would fill with water and drop off the rocks and sink. After hunting about we found the carpenter, and with his help sounded the well; already there were six feet of water in the hold. After waiting a short time we found that the water was increasing, the pumps must be set to work. Some of the crew said it was of no use, and refused; others came to our summons; and to help us we called up all the men passengers, while we set the example by labouring as hard as we could. Thus the night passed. It was indeed better for everybody that we had something to do. Dawn came at last. We eagerly looked out for the prospect which daylight was to reveal, whether we were to find ourselves amidst reefs just rising from the water, or near a mere sandbank, or on an inhabited shore. At first we could only see, as before, the white foam dancing up, then dark rocks and yellow sand, and beyond it brown hills and a few trees. As the light still further increased we discovered that the country was in a state of nature; in vain we looked for traces of inhabitants.

The passengers, hearing that we were close to land, came crowding on deck, all eager to get on shore. It was, however, no easy matter to do so. The sea came rushing round the ship, between which and the dry rocks the distance was considerable, so that anybody attempting to swim to them would have been swept away. One small boat alone remained, the rest had been knocked to pieces. In this only two rowers could sit, and a couple of passengers at the most. As far, however, as we could see on either side the surf broke too furiously to allow her to land, so that she could, we feared, be of no use.

At length my brother cried out, “We’ll go in her; there is one place just inside the ship where we can jump on shore with a line. If we can do that we’ll carry a hawser to the rocks, and all the people may land.”

The two mids and Kelson agreed to go in the boat, towing a light line. We watched them anxiously. The water tossed and foamed around them, and they had hard work to contend with the reflux of the sea. Earnestly I prayed that they might be protected and succeed, both for their sakes and ours. A shout of joy and thankfulness burst from the lookers-on as Kelson leaped on the rock, followed by the two midshipmen, who instantly hauled the boat up out of harm’s way. A hawser had been prepared, which they at once hauled on shore and secured. A cradle was next fitted to it by the seamen, under O’Carroll’s directions. It was a question who was to go forth to prove it. At that moment Jacotot made his appearance on deck. He was told that he must go on shore. He was secured forthwith to the cradle. In vain he struggled and protested: he was quickly drawn across. His son and Jack followed. Two men then went to assist in hauling the passengers across. They were placed, one after the other, in the cradle and landed in safety. I was thankful when they were all on shore. There they stood, grouped together, gazing helplessly at the ship, not knowing what to do. There was no one to guide them. Those wretches, the master and his mate, still remained utterly helpless in the cabin. Half the crew of the ship had been lost, and the young mate, who might have exercised some authority. From what I saw of the remainder of the crew I was afraid that they were mostly a very bad set. I dreaded their breaking into the spirit-room—which seamen often do under such circumstances. To prevent this it was necessary to keep them amply employed; we urged them, therefore, to land all the provisions that could be got out of the hold.

To expedite this proceeding we got another hawser carried on shore. Our lives might depend on the amount of provisions we could save. All day we worked on, till towards evening the water had risen so much in the hold that nothing more could be got out. The heat was intense, but so important was the work that we scarcely stopped even to take food. No one had thought all this time of the captain and mate, the real cause of their misfortunes. Suddenly I recollected that they had been left in a side-cabin asleep. I hurried down. I was but just in time; the water was up to their heads, and in another minute would have washed over their faces and drowned them as they lay sleeping off their debauch. I shouted out their names, and called them to come on deck. They started up, their countenances exhibiting their horror and alarm, as they believed that the ship was sinking beneath them. Out into the water they tumbled. The mate slipped, and caught hold of the captain to save himself. Over they went, struggling together. I fancy that they thought themselves overboard; right under the water they dragged each other, once more to get their heads out, spluttering and shouting, and swearing most fearfully. At last, fearing that they might after all be drowned, I seized the mate, who was the smaller man of the two, and dragged him on deck, calling out to O’Carroll to assist in getting up the captain. He came to my assistance, and we hauled both the men on deck. Their sea bath and the struggle had brought them to their senses; but when, after staring around for some time, they saw that the ship was a hopeless wreck, cast away on an apparently barren island, they very nearly lost them again. To find fault with them at such a moment would have been folly. “Come, I advise you to go on shore, for very likely the ship will go to pieces during the night, if the wind rise again,” I said quietly. They were far from disposed to thank me for my advice, though, after looking about for a few minutes, they took it, and were hauled on shore. After collecting everything of value to be found in the cabin, compass, charts, and some nautical books, I followed. O’Carroll was the last man to leave the ship. William and his messmate had been very active on shore, and got a tent rigged for the poor women and children, and some food cooked for them by Jacotot.

No sooner was a fire lighted than the Frenchman was himself again, hurrying about in search of the utensils necessary for his calling. He had cooked a capital supper for them, and he now offered to cook one for us. On collecting all the sails we had landed, we were able to form a shelter for ourselves, as well as for the seamen; and at length, weary with our exertions, we lay down to rest. The captain and mate were very silent, and I hoped ashamed of themselves. During the night there was a good deal of wind and sea. I was thankful that we were on shore, and when I looked out I almost expected to find that the ship had gone to pieces. There, however, she was, still holding fast together. Seeing this, the captain declared that he would get her off, and that if trees could be found in the island suitable for new spars, he could proceed on his voyage.

“If he knew of the bumping she got he wouldn’t say so,” observed O’Carroll. “That ship will never float again, and, strong as she is, another gale such as we had last night will break her to pieces.”

As there was nothing more to be done, we started to explore the island. It seemed to be the chief of a group of rocky islets, being about six miles long and half as broad. Though we made diligent search as we walked on, we could find no water. A few small casks of the precious liquid had been landed, but sufficient only for another day or two.

“And what shall we do when that is gone?” asked William. It was a serious question.

“We must trust in God, for vain is the help of man in such a case,” I answered; “at all events, we must use what we have got with the greatest economy.”

On returning to the camp and reporting our want of success in finding water, what was our dismay to find that every drop in the casks had been consumed! All the poor people could say was that they were so thirsty, and the children were so constantly crying out for water, that they could not help giving it to them. We were ourselves already suffering greatly from thirst after our ramble, yet not a drop of water did we obtain. Our lips were parched, our tongues dry: without water we could not eat, we loathed food, supperless we lay down to sleep. All night long I was dreaming of sparkling fountains and running brooks. As soon as it was daylight we again set out with a spade and pickaxe, prepared, if we could find no running stream, to dig wherever verdure showed that moisture was at hand. We walked on and on, searching in every direction round the shore, but no sign of a stream emptying itself into the sea could we discover, and when we dug we soon met the hard rock. Faint and weary we turned to the camp. We found a fire blazing, and Jacotot with several men standing round it: two were working a rough pair of bellows, others hammers and tongs. All were employed under his directions, while he was engaged in riveting a pipe into a large copper vessel.

“Why you trouble to look for water?” he asked. “There is salt water, there is wood to make fire, then we have plenty of fresh water. We make steam, steam come out and leave the salt in de kettle, and then find a cold piece of iron and drop, drop, down into this tub all fresh and good for drink.” He told us that he had seen a French doctor obtain fresh water from salt in that manner.

“Most men have their merits, if we could but discover them and put them in their right places,” I thought to myself. “We were inclined to laugh at Jacotot, but if he can produce fresh water out of salt, he may be the means of saving all our lives.”

We watched him anxiously, all eager to help him, but he would not be hurried. At length the machine was finished, and we hastened to fill it with salt water. It was placed on the fire, and slowly the drops of fresh water were distilled from it. How eagerly were they sought for by the poor creatures who stood round with lack-lustre eyes and parched lips. Jacotot insisted that the youngest should be served first. I think he was influenced by the wish to get his boy Auguste an early draught. That was but natural. Some of the crew grumbled, and so did the captain and mate, who were, in consequence of their late debauch, suffering fearfully from thirst; but O’Carroll, William, Trundle, Kelson, and two or three of the passengers formed a body-guard round the Frenchman, to enable him to do as he thought right. Only half a little liqueur glass of the precious fluid was served out to each person. It was pleasant to see the eyes of the poor children brighten as the pure water touched their lips. The younger ones, however, directly their allowance was gone, cried out for more. Several times we had to stop till more water was distilled.

While we were thus engaged, the wind had again got up, and the sea, dashing over the reef, began to burst with violence against the shore. The effect produced on the wreck was soon apparent. The remaining upper works began to give way. As the sea rolled in with increasing violence, plank after plank was torn off, then larger portions were wrenched from the hull, the deck burst up, and was soon dashed into pieces against the rocks. As soon as we had swallowed enough water somewhat to slake our burning thirst, we hastened to the beach to save what we could from the wreck. We hauled on shore all the planks and timber we could get hold of, with the vague idea that we might be able to build a raft of some sort, in which to make our escape. At all events the wood would be useful to construct huts for the women, or to burn. As darkness set in, a large portion of the wreck had disappeared, and even the captain was convinced that her keel would never leave its present position, except to be cast up in fragments on the rocks. He and the mate had been very quiet and low-spirited. They were craving for their accustomed stimulants, and several times I heard them grumbling at us for not having landed any liquor for them. Neither they nor the larger portion of their crew had exerted themselves in the slightest degree to assist us in our labours. Most of them sauntered along the beach with their hands in their pockets, or sat coolly watching us. Fatigued with our exertions, we at last returned to the camp, where Jacotot was able to give us a glass of water, and we then, thankful even for that small supply, lay down to rest.

It was not till late that any of us awoke; we then found that the captain and mate, and several of their men, had withdrawn themselves to a distance from the camp. We were glad to be rid of their company, though why they had gone away so suddenly we could not tell. We could not help suspecting, however, that they had done so with the intention of hatching mischief. When I speak of we, I mean our party from the Dorè, for we of necessity kept very much together. I have not particularly described the emigrants, for there was nothing very remarkable about them. Two or three were intelligent, enterprising men, who had made themselves acquainted with the character of the country to which they were going, and had tolerably definite plans for the employment of their capitals. The rest had mostly failed in England, and were rather driven by want into exile than attracted by the advantages the new colony had to offer. They were all married men with families, and this made them associate with each other for mutual assistance. The steerage passengers were generally small tradesmen, and had emigrated for much the same reason as the others. Three gentlemen of the first-class, who were bachelors, had begged leave to join our mess. One of them had already been in New South Wales, and was able to give us much interesting information about it. So much taken was I, indeed, with what I heard, that I resolved, should I be unable to find the Barbara, to visit the colony before returning home. We thus, as I have explained, formed three chief messes. We were not as yet either very badly off. We had saved provisions from the wreck sufficient, with economy, to last us a couple of months or more; and now that we could obtain fresh water, though but in small quantities, we were not afraid of dying of thirst. We were in hopes, too, of finding turtles and turtles’ eggs, and perhaps wild fowl, and we might also catch fish to add to our stock of provisions. Could we only find water, and some sort of vegetables, we might be able, we thought, to support existence for any length of time; and as far, indeed, as we could judge we might not have an opportunity of escaping from the island for months, or it might be for years. This was not, however, a subject pleasant to contemplate. I thought of my merchandise, William of his promotion, and of the opportunities he might lose of distinguishing himself, while Jacotot, though not idle, was unable to make money where he was. Toby Trundle, however, took things very easily. He laughed and joked as much as ever, and declared that he never was more jolly in his life. He used to say the same thing in the midshipmen’s berth; he had said it on board the boat, and I believe he would have said it under nearly any circumstances in which he could have been placed. The poor emigrants, on the contrary, were very far from content. Most of them had lost all they possessed in the world, and knew that, should they even ultimately arrive at their destination, they must land as beggars, dependent on the bounty of others. They were therefore naturally very loud in their complaints of the captain and his mate, while they were continually bewailing their own hard lot. Those persons had, as I observed, removed themselves to a distance from the rest of our shipwrecked band.

We had retired to tents for the night, and had lain down to sleep, when after some time I was awoke by sounds of shouting and laughter, followed by shrieks and cries, which seemed to come up from the beach where the captain and his associates had taken up their quarters. The noises increased, and O’Carroll awoke. He got up, and we went together to the entrance of our tent. The night was very calm. The stars shone forth from the dark sky with a brilliancy I have never seen surpassed; even the restless sea was quiet, and met the shore with an almost noiseless kiss; all nature seemed tranquil and at rest. A shot was heard, and then another, and another, followed by shouts and execrations. “There will be bloodshed among those madmen,” exclaimed O’Carroll. “They have got hold of some liquor unknown to us, and are fighting with each other: we must try and separate them.” Calling my brother and the rest of the party to come to our assistance, we hurried off in the direction whence the sounds proceeded.

Chapter Nine.

Life on the Island.

When we got sufficiently near the beach to distinguish objects, we saw the captain standing with a pistol in his hand, which was pointed at the mate, who held a long knife in his hand, with which he was about, it seemed, to make a rush at his opponent, while three or four men had arranged themselves on either side, and were nourishing various weapons. The shots we heard told us that they had already fired at each other several times, but were too tipsy to take a steady aim. One man, however, lay wounded on the ground, and from the gestures of the mate, he would in another instant plunge his knife in the bosom of the captain, unless stopped by the latter’s bullet.

“You knock up the skipper’s arm, while I seize the other fellow,” exclaimed O’Carroll to me, springing forward.

I did as he bid me; he ran a great risk of being shot. The mate turned on O’Carroll with an oath, and the captain snapped his pistol at me, but fortunately he had already discharged it, and in another instant I brought him, as he attempted to grapple with me, to the ground. O’Carroll had mastered the mate, and the other men stood staring at us, but offering no opposition. “Is this the way for men to behave who have just been saved from death, to make yourselves worse than the brute beasts? This—this is the cause of it!” exclaimed O’Carroll, kicking a cask from which a stream of spirit was even then running out. “It would have been no loss to us if you had killed each other, but we could not see our fellow-creatures perish without trying to save them.”

The bold and determined tone in which O’Carroll spoke, aided by the arrival of the rest of our friends, had such an effect on the seamen, that those who were still able to move slunk away to a distance, while the captain and his mate, when we let them go, sat down helplessly on the sand, forgetting entirely their quarrel and its cause. There they sat, laughing stupidly at each other, as if the affair had been a good joke. While O’Carroll was emptying the rum cask, which it appeared had been washed on shore and secreted by the captain, his men went to the wounded man. He did not speak: he seemed scarcely to breathe. I took his hand: it was already cold. All this time he had been bleeding to death: an artery had been shot through. We did our best in the dark to bind up the wound and stop the bleeding; the spirit which might have kept his heart beating till nature, in her laboratory, had formed more blood, was gone; indeed, probably in his then condition it would not have had its due effect. The wretched man’s breath came fainter and fainter. There was no restorative that we could think of to be procured. We lifted him up to carry him to the camp, but before we had gone many paces, we found that we were bearing a corpse.

“That man has been murdered,” exclaimed O’Carroll, turning to the captain. “By whose hand the shot was fired which killed him I know not, but I do know that his blood is on the head of the man who ought to have set a good example to his inferiors, and prevented them from broaching the cask they had found.”

Whether this address had any good effect we could not tell, but hoping that the men would remain quiet and sleep off the effect of their debauch, we returned to our tent, leaving the body on the ground. The next morning we returned to the beach. The captain and his drunken companions still lay on the sand asleep. They were out of the reach of the sea, but the hot rays of the rapidly rising sun, which were striking down on their unprotected heads, would, I saw, soon give them brain fever or kill them outright, if they were to be left long exposed to their influence. I therefore proposed that we should rouse them up, and advise them to go and lie down in the shade of some shrubs and rocks at a little distance.

“Before we do so, we’ll take away their weapons, and at all events make it more difficult for them to do mischief to us or to themselves,” said O’Carroll. Some of the men grumbled on being disturbed, as we turned them round to take away their knives. We left the unloaded pistols, which, as they had no powder, could do little harm. Having taken their arms to our tents, we returned and awoke them, not without difficulty, by shaking them and shouting in their ears. One after the other they got up, lazily rubbing their eyes and stretching themselves, and staring stupidly about them. The captain was one of the last to come to his senses. He started when he saw the dead body of his companion.

“Who killed that man?” he exclaimed, in an anxious tone.

“You did, most probably,” answered O’Carroll. “We heard shots fired and found the man dead.”

The captain felt in his pocket, and drew out a pistol with the hammer down: it had been discharged. “Then I am a murderer!” he exclaimed, in a tone of horror, his countenance expressing his feelings. “It wanted but that to make up the measure of my crimes.”

“It is but too true, I fear,” said O’Carroll.

“Yes, too true, too true!” cried the captain, rushing off towards the sea, into which he would have thrown himself, had not O’Carroll, William, and I held him back. It was some time before we could calm him sufficiently to leave him alone. He then went and sat down in the shade at a little distance from his companions, who looked on at him with dull apathy, while he gave way to the feelings which the prickings of his awakened conscience had produced. How he and the mate had got possessed of the pistols we could not guess, till we found the chest of one of the emigrants, a young man, broken open, and from this they had helped themselves. One of them soon after came for a spade which had been landed, and we saw them hurriedly bury the corpse, as if eager to get the silent witness of their crime out of sight. For the remainder of the day they were perfectly quiet, the mate coming humbly when the provisions were served out to ask for their share; still we could not trust them, as we knew that if they could get at more liquor, they would very quickly again be drunk. In the evening, indeed, they were seen walking along the beach, evidently watching for the chance of another cask being washed on shore. They did not find one, however, and the next morning were excessively sulky, keeping together and evidently plotting mischief. They, with the rest of us, were aroused, however, soon after breakfast by the appearance of a sail in the offing. The more sanguine at once declared that she was standing towards us, and that our fears regarding a prolonged stay on the island were groundless; others thought that she would pass by and leave us to our fate. Every spyglass was in requisition, and numerous were the surmises as to the character and nationality of the stranger.

“What if she is an enemy?” observed William.

“She will not find much plunder, at all events,” answered Trundle. “There is nothing like being at the bottom of the hill, so that you cannot be kicked lower.”

“Even an enemy would respect our condition,” remarked O’Carroll; “we have nothing to fear from one, I should hope.”

“No, but an enemy would leave us where we are: a friend would carry us away, or send us assistance,” said I. It was dinner-time, and Jacotot had prepared our messes with his usual skill; but so eager were the people watching the approaching stranger, that the food was scarcely touched, except by the children, who of course little knew how much depended on her character. At length there was no doubt that she was standing for the island, and the exhibitions of joy and satisfaction became general among the unfortunate emigrants. They would now be able to leave the island and reach their land of promise; every countenance beamed brightly except O’Carroll’s. After some time I saw his fall. It gained a more and more anxious look. He scarcely withdrew the glass from his eye.

“What do you make her out to be, O’Carroll?” I asked.

“Braithwaite, as I am a living man, she’s the Mignonne,” he answered, in a hoarse voice, his countenance still further showing the agitation of his mind: “if that villain La Roche gets hold of me again, he’ll not let me escape with my life. And these poor emigrants to have his lawless crew come among them,—it will be terrible; better rather that they had all gone to the bottom in their ill-fated ship with their drunken captain.”

Notwithstanding O’Carroll’s opinion, I doubted whether the stranger was the Mignonne, for she was still too far off, I thought, for him to be certain on the subject. I therefore tried to tranquillise his mind, wondering that a man so brave, and cool, and collected, as he generally was, should have such a dread of the French captain.

“I tell you yonder vessel is the Mignonne, and if you had been treated as I was, and had witnessed the scenes I saw enacted on board, you would not have a less horror of La Roche and his scoundrel crew than I have. My reason does not help me; I cannot think of that man without trembling.”

I understood him, for I have myself been affected in the same way with regard to one or two people who have done me some injury, or would, I have had reason to believe, do me one should they have the opportunity.

“The only way to escape the pirates is to remain concealed while they are passing,” he observed. “As there is no harbour here, and there are no signs of them having been here, they will, in all probability, go to the other side of the island, and we may escape them.”

As I still further examined the stranger I began to fear that O’Carroll was right in his conjectures, and I therefore agreed to assist him in trying to persuade the rest of the people to hide themselves till the privateer was out of sight. The emigrants, frightened out of their wits by the account O’Carroll gave of the privateer’s men, were ready enough to do as he advised, and began running here and there, not knowing where to hide themselves. We advised them simply to pull down the tent, to put out the fire, and to sit quiet among the rocks and shrubs till the ship had passed.

We then went on to see the captain and his men. As we got in sight of where they were, we saw that they had already got up a spar, which had been washed on shore, and were in the act of hoisting a man’s shirt to the top of it in order to attract the attention of the stranger. On this O’Carroll shouted out to them in no very gentle tones, “Fools! idiots! what are you about? would you bring an enemy on shore to murder us?” I then told them the character of the vessel in sight. “What’s that to us?” answered one of the men. “All masters are much the same to us; they’ll use us while they want us, and cast us adrift when they’ve done with us. Whether French or Spaniards, they’ll not harm us. They’ll have liquor aboard, and that is what we shan’t have as long as we remain here.”

It was useless attempting to argue with such men. I turned to the captain. He had lost all authority over his people, who treated him as an equal, or rather as an inferior. He shrugged his shoulders and walked away without speaking. I saw that it was time, therefore, to interfere, and William and I, rushing forward, hauled down the signal, which one of the men was on the point of hoisting. “If you are willing to become slaves, we are not!” I exclaimed, in a determined tone, seizing the halliards and hauling down the signal. The men threatened, but as they had no arms, and we were firm, they did not attempt to prevent us from carrying off the spar.

The ship approached, and as she passed along the coast so that we had a broadside view of her, I had no longer any doubt that she was the Mignonne. I observed that even the seamen, notwithstanding their bravado, kept so far among the rocks, that unless the privateer’s men had been especially examining the shore there was not much probability of our being discovered. We watched the vessel from the highest point of ground we could reach, and we conjectured that she must have touched at the other side of the island, concealed by an intervening ridge of elevated land. “If we are careful we shall escape all molestation from the privateer’s men,” I remarked, addressing the emigrants. “They are not likely to come to our part of the island.”

It was curious to observe the change which had come over O’Carroll. He was no longer the bold and sagacious seaman, but an anxious, nervous, timid man. At night I frequently heard him crying out in his sleep, thinking that the dreaded La Roche was on him, and was about to carry him on board the privateer. As we could not do without a fire to obtain fresh water, we were compelled to light one, though we thus ran the risk, should any of the privateer’s men wander into the country, of being discovered. Still that was a risk which must be run. It was curious, also, to observe the humble way in which, after a few hours, the seamen came to beg for a draught of the pure liquid. I was very glad of this, as I saw that it would enable us to exert an influence over them and to keep them in order. The wretched captain held out for some time, but at last came, with parched lips and bloodshot eyes, entreating even for a few drops of the precious fluid to cool the tip of his tongue. It raised our pity to see how the wretched man suffered, physically and mentally, and all the time without hope. In vain I urged him to seek for mercy as a penitent. “Impossible! impossible!” he exclaimed, with a wild laugh. “You do not know what I have done, what I am doomed to do.” And tearing himself away from me, he rushed off, and was hid from sight among the rocks and bushes. Day after day passed by, and we kept anxiously hoping that the privateer would take her departure. It was suggested that if she came to the island to refit, the Frenchman might possibly have a storehouse, with boats, perhaps, or means of building one, and that we might thus be assisted to make our escape. At last, so long a time had elapsed since her arrival, that we began to fancy that she had gone out of harbour during a moonlight night, and reached the offing without our perceiving her. To settle the point, William and Trundle volunteered to reconnoitre, and I, afraid that they might venture too far, resolved to go with them. We fixed on that very afternoon to start, our intention being to get as close to the harbour as we could before dark, and then to rest till the moon rose and afforded us light.

“I hope that you’ll have success, but it is a dangerous work you are going on, young gentlemen,” observed one of the emigrants, a Mr Peter Lacy, or Lazy, as he was generally called, for it was most difficult to arouse him to any exertion.

“Never fear, Mr Lazy, danger is a sweet nut we midshipmen are fond of cracking to get at the kernel—honour. We shall be back all safe before morning, and able to give a satisfactory report.”

In good spirits we set off, for a considerable part of the distance keeping along the shore, to avoid the tangled bush and rocks of the interior. As, however, we approached the harbour, or rather the place where we supposed the harbour to be, we left the beach and kept a more inland course, taking advantage of all the cover we could find to conceal ourselves. At last the sun went down and it quickly grew dark, so we called a halt, and ate some of our provisions with a good appetite. We listened attentively, but could hear no sound, so we agreed to push on directly the moon got up. As we did not speak above a whisper, a very soporiferous proceeding, I was not surprised that both Toby and William fell asleep. It was more necessary, therefore, that I should keep my eyes and ears open. At last I saw what looked like the illuminated dome of some vast cathedral slowly emerge from the dark line of the horizon; up it rose, till it assumed a globe-like form, and appeared to decrease in size, while it cast a bright silvery light over the hitherto obscured landscape. I roused up the two midshipmen, who were sleeping as soundly as if they had been in their hammocks. We worked our way onward among tangled underwood, not without sundry scratches and inconvenient rents in our clothing, till we reached a hill, up which we climbed. From the top we looked down, as we had expected to do, on the harbour. Below us lay the Mignonne, or a ship very like her; her sails were loose and bulging out with the land breeze, while from the sounds which reached us it was evident that her crew were heaving up the anchor preparatory to sailing; boats were moving backwards and forwards over the surface of the calm water of the harbour, on which the moon shone with a refulgence which enabled us to see all that was taking place. The anchor was shipped, the sails were sheeted home, and the privateer slowly glided out of the harbour on her errand of mischief; two, if not more, boats returned to the shore fully manned. Farther up the harbour lay three large hulks, with their lower masts only standing; they were high out of the water, showing that they had no cargoes in them. There were also several smaller craft, but all were dismantled, and looked as if they had been there for some time. The French, then, had a settlement on the island. The inhabitants were sure to be armed, and probably were as numerous as our party. If so, it would be unwise to attempt gaining anything by force, though of course we might surprise them. We waited till the people in the boats had had time to turn in and go to sleep, and then descended to reconnoitre the place more nearly. We crept cautiously on till we reached several scattered cottages, or huts rather, built, without any regularity, as the nature of the ground seemed most suitable. There were also two or three storehouses close to the water; indeed, we saw enough to show us that there was a regular settlement made by the French for the purpose of refitting their ships. The barking of several poodles in the cottages made us afraid of moving about much, lest their inmates should look out and discover us. We therefore retraced our steps to the hill.

“A magnificent idea,” exclaimed Trundle, as soon as we called a halt. “We’ll surprise and capture the place and hold it for the King of England. You’ll be made governor, Braithwaite, to a certainty.”

“To be turned out by the first French privateer which enters the harbour—to be thrown into prison and perhaps shot. Thank you,” said I, “I would rather not.”

“This establishment solves a mystery,” observed William. “We have often been puzzled to know what has become of vessels which have disappeared, and which, from the fineness of the weather, and for other reasons, we did not suppose had been lost. We should do good service if we could get away without being discovered, and send some of our cruisers to watch in the neighbourhood.”

I agreed with William; at the same time the idea of capturing the place was very attractive. If we should make the attempt and succeed, however, we should find liquor there, and the seamen would certainly get drunk and mutinous. No object would be gained, either, unless we could immediately send a vessel to sea, to give notice at the Mauritius of our success and obtain assistance. Discussions on these points occupied us till daylight, when we recommenced our journey to the tents. The news we brought was so far satisfactory to our companions, that we were not likely to be starved to death, and as peace would come some day or other, we might then hope to make our escape. No one, however, seemed at all desirous of attacking the French settlement; the risk was considerable, the gain problematical. It was finally agreed that we should remain quiet where we were, and only in case of extremity make ourselves known to our foreign neighbours. The more energetic of the party became, as may be supposed, very impatient of the inactive life we were compelled to lead. We could do little else than fish all day, and make expeditions in search of water. In this we were at last successful; the spring was more than a mile away, and it became a question whether we should move our camp there, the objection to our so doing being that it was so much nearer the French settlement. The next morning, on going near the spot where the captain and his companions had erected their tent, I saw no one moving. I called to them. There was no reply. I went to the tent. It was empty! It was supposed that they had gone to the newly-discovered spring, but those who had gone to bring water from it told us that they were not there. While we were wondering what had become of the men, as William happened to be sweeping the horizon with his telescope, he cried out that he saw a sail in the offing. In a short time afterwards another was descried, her topsails gradually rising out of the water. She was pronounced to be larger than the first which had appeared.

“It is that scoundrel La Roche again!” exclaimed O’Carroll, after eyeing the nearest stranger for some time. “I knew that it would not be long before he would be back again, and there he comes with a big prize, depend on it.”

“But suppose, instead of the big ship being his prize, he has been captured by one of our cruisers, and has been sent in first to show the way?” I suggested.

“No, no, the headmost craft is the Mignonne, and the big one is an Indiaman, her prize, depend on that,” said O’Carroll.

There seemed every probability that he was right, but this did not increase our satisfaction. The only thing that could be said was that we should now have companions in our misfortune. As may be supposed, however, we watched the approach of the two ships with the greatest interest, feeling assured that in some way or other they would have a considerable influence on our fate.

Chapter Ten.

An anxious Time.

Our anxiety to ascertain the fate of those on board the ship which the Mignonne had brought in as a prize induced me, with my brother William and Trundle, to make another expedition to the French settlement. We ventured much nearer during daylight than we had done the first time, as we were certain that the people would be watching the arrival of the privateer and her prize. We were able, indeed, to reach a spot overlooking the harbour, where, among some thick bushes, we concealed ourselves before the ships came to an anchor. William had brought his telescope, and we could almost see the countenances of the people on the decks of the ships. The large one was, we saw at once, an Indiaman outward bound. We knew that by the number of young men and the young ladies on board, and their clear ruddy complexions. Had she been homeward bound, there would be old yellow-faced generals and judges, black nurses, sickly ladies, and little children.

We anxiously watched the proceedings of those on board. The passengers were walking up and down in a very disconsolate mood: the crew were clustered forward. By their looks and gestures as they cast their eyes towards the privateer, we thought that even then they were about to attack the Frenchman, and attempt to regain their liberty.

“I hope they will. I should like to help them,” exclaimed William and Trundle, starting up simultaneously.

I drew them back. “Nonsense! we could not help them, and they will not make the attempt,” I said. “See, the Frenchmen are going on board armed. They know what they are about.”

Two large boats with armed men were pulling from the privateer to the Indiaman to strengthen her prize crew, while Captain La Roche was going on board her in his gig. He was soon up her side, and began bowing and scraping away most politely to the passengers, especially to the ladies. We could almost fancy that we heard him apologising to them for the inconvenience and disappointment he was causing them, with a spice of mockery in his tone, suggesting that it was the fortune of war, and that another day their turn might come uppermost. The crew of the Indiaman were then sent down the side, and rowed off to one of the hulks, while the passengers were conveyed to another.

“Then those hulks are prison ships after all,” observed William, when the operation was concluded. “We may get on board them and let out the prisoners some day.”

In this I partly agreed with him, though I could not help seeing the difficulties in the way. Even this hope was likely to be frustrated, for as we watched the Frenchmen who came on shore, we saw that they were joined by several men whom we had little difficulty in recognising as the crew of the wrecked ship, the very people who had lately deserted us. The mate was with them, but we did not see the captain. Perhaps, drunkard as he was, he was ashamed to go over to the enemy. All the party now entered a drinking-house together, being evidently on the most friendly terms.

We had therefore no longer any doubt that our existence would be made known to the privateer’s men, and that the difficulty of surprising them would consequently be much greater than we had calculated on. We found that it was time to retrace our steps, all we had gained from our expedition being the knowledge that many of our countrymen and countrywomen were in even a worse condition than we were. Our report when we got back to the tents put our companions very much out of spirits. What were we to do? was the question. Some proposed that we should go at once and deliver ourselves up to the French, petitioning for their clemency. O’Carroll strongly opposed this.

“We are at liberty now, boys: if we once get into the hands of these French they will be our masters, and make us do what they like,” he observed; and his influence, supported as he was by us, carried the point.

We wondered that Jacotot did not betake himself to his countrymen; but he laughed and said that he was now an English subject, that he should then be only one among many, that he was with us not only the principal cook, but the only man worthy to be called a cook; indeed, that he was perfectly content to continue to share our fortunes.

As several days passed and we received no visit from the Frenchmen, we began to hope that the seamen had not betrayed us. So far that was satisfactory, but had they remained faithful, I think that there is little doubt that we should have attempted the rescue of the prisoners. At last once more we saw the Mignonne put to sea; and immediately on this, with O’Carroll and Sam Kelson in company, after watching for some time without seeing anything of the English sailors, we therefore conjectured that either they had quarrelled with the French and been put in prison, or had gone on board the privateer—too probably the latter. After a consultation, we agreed that we would, at all events, pay a visit to the passengers of the Indiaman. The French could scarcely think it necessary to keep guards constantly watching them, and we might therefore easily accomplish the undertaking. We accordingly set off to move round the harbour, intending to conceal ourselves in some spot near the Indiaman, that we might watch our opportunity for getting on board. We had gone on for some distance, and were approaching the spot, concealing ourselves carefully as we advanced, when sounds of laughter reached our ears—honest English laughter. We stole on, very much inclined to join in it, considering that we had not had a good laugh for some time, when from some rocks up which we climbed we saw below us a large party of ladies and gentlemen engaged in discussing a dinner in picnic fashion on the grass. They all seemed remarkably merry and happy. The younger gentlemen were running about helping the ladies, and doing the polite in the most approved fashion.

Trundle smacked his lips so loudly at the sight that some of the party turned a hasty glance in the direction where we lay hidden, supposing probably that the noise was made by some bird in the foliage above their heads. In a short time one of the young gentlemen was called on for a song. He without hesitation complied. I forget the strain. It was a right merry one. Another followed him, and then another.

“I say, Braithwaite,” whispered Toby Trundle, “just let me go down and introduce myself, and then you know I can introduce you all, and I’m sure that they will be glad to make your acquaintance.”

I nodded to Toby, and in an instant he slid down the rock, and was in the very midst of the party before any one observed where he had come from. Their looks of astonishment at finding an English midshipman among them were amusing.

“Why, where have you dropped from, youngster?” exclaimed a civilian, a judge returning from—what was more unusual in those days than at present—a visit to England. “The clouds?”

“Not exactly; ’tis but from up there, where I have a number of friends who would be glad to make your acquaintance,” answered Toby promptly. “May I introduce them?”

“By all means—very happy to see them,” answered the nabob, as all civil servants of the Company were called in those days if they were well up the tree, and had made money. “Bring them down at once.”

“I have not a gun, sir, or I might do it; but I’ll hail them, which will answer the purpose,” answered Master Toby, with a twinkle in his eye.

We scarcely waited for his call, but tumbling down one after the other, we stood before the assembled company, to whom Toby, looking as grave as a judge, introduced us formally by name, finishing off with “Sam Kelson, boatswain’s mate of his Britannic Majesty’s frigate Phoebe.”

“The very ship we spoke the day before we were captured,” observed our friend the judge. “She was on the look-out for Captain La Roche and his merry men, and if she falls in with them, they will have a hard matter to escape; but sit down, gentlemen, we are very glad to make your acquaintance. We are companions in misfortune, though in some respects you have the advantage over us, by being at liberty.”

We found that the passengers were allowed to live as before on board the Indiaman, and were under no sort of restraint, they having given their word not to attempt to escape from the island while the French had possession of it. We were treated in the most friendly manner by all the party, Sam Kelson finding a companion in a corporal, the servant of a military officer going out to rejoin his regiment Trundle soon let out to our new friends the intention we had entertained of trying to release them. They thanked us, but said that the attempt would have been useless, as the mouth of the harbour was strongly guarded. There were a good many other people on board the ships, while the officers and seamen remained strictly guarded, and were not allowed to visit the shore, except when the Mignonne or some other privateer ship of war was in the harbour. Their only fear was that they might run short of provisions before they were released, or that at all events they should have to live on very coarse and scanty food. They advised us to keep out of the Frenchmen’s sight, lest we should be pounced on and treated as seamen and belligerents; this we very readily promised to do. Altogether we had a very pleasant and merry meeting, and were sorry when our friends told us that the hour for their return on board had arrived. It was arranged that they should have another picnic party in the same spot in three days, and they kindly invited us to join them. On our way back we had, as may be supposed, plenty of subjects for conversation.

“That Miss Mary Mason,” said Toby, “is a sweetly pretty girl. I would go through fire and water to serve her.”

“And Julia Arundel is one of the most lively, animated girls I have met for a long time,” remarked William, with a sigh. I had observed O’Carroll in conversation with a lady who seemed to be a former acquaintance. He told me that he had known her in her younger and happier days, that she had married an officer in India, had come home with three children, who had all died, and that she was now on her way to rejoin her husband.

“Her case is a very hard one,” he remarked.

“So I suspect we shall find are the cases of many,” I answered. “Sad indeed are the effects of war! The non-combatants suffer more even than the combatants. That is to say, a far greater number of people suffer who have nothing to do with the fighting than those who actually carry on the murderous work. Oh, when will war cease throughout the world?”

“Not until the depraved heart of man is changed, and Satan himself is chained, unable further to hurt the human race,” answered O’Carroll. “What has always struck me, besides the wickedness of war, is its utter folly. Who ever heard of a war in which both sides did not come off losers? The gain in a war can never make amends for the losses, the men slain, the physical suffering, the grief: the victorious side feel that only in a less degree than the losers.”

I cordially agreed with him. Yet how many hundreds were daily falling at that time in warfare—how many thousands and tens of thousands were yet to fall, to gratify the insane ambition of a single man, permitted to be the fearful scourge that he was to the human race? We said as little about our expedition as we could, for the emigrants, as soon as they heard of so many of their countrymen being in the neighbourhood, were eager to set out to see them. We, however, persuaded them to remain where they were, for a visit of so large a party would not fail to be discovered by the French, and greatly increase the annoyances of our position. We, however, paid our second visit to the passengers of the Indiaman, and found them on shore at the place where we had first met them. Their spirits, however, had already begun to flag; their guards had been less courteous than at first, sickness had attacked two or three, gloomy apprehensions were troubling the minds of many. Still we had a pleasant dinner, and the song and the jest went round as before. The two midshipmen were the merriest of the party, and paid, as may be supposed, the most devoted attention to the two young ladies whom they thought fit to admire. Their happiness was, however, disagreeably interrupted by the appearance in our midst of half-a-dozen armed Frenchmen. They nodded familiarly at us. “Bien, messieurs; you have saved us the trouble of going to fetch you,” said one of them, in a sarcastic tone. “You will not leave this, but as you are seamen, you will accompany us to the prison ship.”

We soon found that they had been made acquainted by the seamen of the Kangaroo of our being on the island, and had only waited for leisure to go and bring us to the settlement. Another party had already been dispatched to bring in the emigrants, and from the rough unmannerly way in which these treated our new friends, we could not but feel the gravest apprehensions as to the indignities to which they might be subjected. Our own existence in the hands of lawless ruffians would be very different from what it had hitherto been. The appearance of these unwelcome visitors completely broke up the picnic party, and while our friends returned to their ship, we were marched off towards one of the hulks. We soon had evidence of the bad disposition of our captors towards us, for Toby Trundle, who was very indignant at being thus caught, beginning to saunter along as if he had no intention of hurrying himself to please them, one of them threatened to give him a prog with his bayonet. As we were walking along as slowly as Trundle could contrive to go, the sound of a shot reached our ears. It came from the sea. Our guards started and talked rapidly to each other. Several other shots followed in succession, some close together.

“There are two at it, of that I am sure,” exclaimed O’Carroll.

The Frenchmen continued their gesticulations with increased animation. They were evidently eager to get to the mouth of the harbour, whence they could look seaward.

“They think that there is something in the wind, depend on that,” observed Trundle.

Presently the firing became more and more rapid, seeming to our ears to come nearer and nearer. The Frenchmen could no longer restrain their eagerness to learn the cause of the firing, and totally disregarding, probably indeed forgetting us, off they set running towards the shore as fast as their legs could carry them. We waited for a few minutes to let them have a fair start, and then followed in their wake for some distance, turning off, however, after a time, to the right, so that, should they come back to look for us, we might not so easily be found. We in a short time reached a high rocky mound, whence we got a view of the sea spread out before us. Within a mile and a half of the land were two ships, both with topgallant sails set, standing in close-hauled towards the harbour. The wind was somewhat off the land, but yet, if it continued steady, it was possible that they might fetch the harbour-mouth. Such, it appeared evident, was the object of the one, while to prevent her so doing was the aim of the other, which was the larger and nearer to us. As soon as the two midshipmen set eyes on the latter, they clapped their hands like children with delight, exclaiming at the top of their voices, “The Phoebe! the Phoebe! hurrah! hurrah!” O’Carroll took a more steady glance at the other ship, and then shouted, with no less delight, “And that’s the Mignonne, and La Roche’s day has come at last.”

“I should hope so, indeed,” cried Trundle; “depend on it the Phoebe won’t have done with him till she has made him eat a big dish of humble pie.”

The frigate kept firing rapidly her foremost guns at the Frenchman, who replied to them in a spirited manner with his aftermost ones, as they could be brought to bear. He was all the time luffing up, trying to eat into the wind, as it were; but as that was scant, it gave the Phoebe, which was well to windward, a great advantage, and she was now rapidly coming up with him. As she did so, she every now and then luffed up for an instant, and let fly her whole broadside, doing considerable execution. We eagerly watched the effect of the shot. The Frenchman’s sails were soon riddled, and several of his spars seemed to be wounded, many of his ropes, too, hanging in festoons. At last, directly after another broadside, down came his spanker gaff, shot away in the jaws, while the mizen topsail braces shared the same fate. In vain the crew ran aloft to repair the damage; the ship rapidly fell off, and all prospect of her fetching up to the harbour was lost, unless by a miracle the wind should suddenly shift round. The instant the sail came down, the midshipmen gave vent to their feelings of exultation in a loud “Hip, hip, hurrah!” in which we could not help joining them, and the crew of the Phoebe, whom we could fancy at the moment doing the same thing.

“Don’t be too sure that the Mignonne is taken, however,” cried O’Carroll. “I never saw a faster craft, and see, she is keeping away, and going to try what her heels can do for her, dead before the wind.”

The Mignonne, however, could not keep away without being raked by the Phoebe, whose shot, now delivered low, must have told with fearful effect along her decks. This done, the Phoebe instantly bore up in chase, and not having lost a spar, though her sails had several shot-holes through them, rapidly gained on her. The Frenchmen, to give themselves every chance of escape, were now busily employed in getting out studden-sail booms, in spite of the shot which went whizzing after them. In a marvellously short space of time a wide spread of canvas was exhibited on either side, showing that, though many of her men had fallen, she had a numerous and well-trained crew.

“They are smart fellows, indeed,” I remarked. “Many of them fight with halters round their necks.”

“That makes fellows smart in more senses than one,” answered O’Carroll.

The Phoebe, of course, had to set her studden-sails, and away the two ships glided before the freshening breeze. We watched them with breathless interest. Their speed at first seemed so equal that the chased had still, it seemed, a chance of escaping.

“Trust to our captain, he’ll stick to her till he has made her strike, or he will chase her round the world,” said the two midshipmen, in the same breath.

The Mignonne was firing away all the time with her stern chasers, while the frigate was replying from those at her bows. They were both firing at each other’s spars, the one hoping, by crippling her opponent, to escape, the other to prevent her doing so. What had become of our guards all this time we had not for a moment thought, while we hoped that they had equally forgotten us. The chase, indeed, probably absorbed their attention as it did ours. Few of us doubted that the English frigate would ultimately capture the Frenchman; but should she do so would she of necessity come back with her prize to our island, or would she sail away, and, perhaps ignorant of our existence, leave us to our fate? One thing was evident, that we ought to guard ourselves against the insolence of the French garrison. The men were evidently the scum of society, and should they find themselves without restraint, it was impossible to say what atrocities they might not commit. Anxious as we were to know the result of the chase, we agreed at once to go back to our friends to give them warning, and to consult with them what steps to adopt. Before leaving our look-out place we took one more anxious glance at the two ships. Both O’Carroll and the midshipmen declared that the Phoebe was positively overhauling the Mignonne, and that in a short time we should see the latter haul down her flag. I doubted it.

Chapter Eleven.

Attacked by the French Fleet.

Our friends on board the Indiaman were thrown into high spirits on hearing of the prospect of being released. They advised us, however, to get on shore again as fast as we could, and hide ourselves, lest the soldiers, hoping to be ultimately successful, should ill-treat us for having run away from them. We told them that our intention had been to release all the English prisoners, and to overpower the Frenchmen.

“Blood will be shed if you do, to no purpose,” observed the judge; “should the frigate be successful and come back here, as I have no doubt she will, we shall be released; if the Mignonne escapes and returns, her crew would quickly again overpower us and obtain what they wish, a good excuse for ill-treating us, of which they will not fail to avail themselves.”

The judge’s opinion carried the day, and we hurried on shore, and returned by a circuitous route to the spot whence we had witnessed the engagement between the two vessels. William eagerly swept the dark well-defined line of the horizon with his telescope.

“Hurrah! there is one—yes, there are two sails! Here, O’Carroll, see what you can make out of them,” he exclaimed, handing him the glass.

It was some time before O’Carroll would pronounce an opinion. He then declared positively that there were two ships, and that they were approaching the land. There was a strong breeze. We sat down on the ground, watching anxiously. They came nearer and nearer. We had no longer any doubt that the Phoebe had captured the privateer. The midshipmen declared positively that the largest was their ship.

“We ought to know her, though, to be sure, it is more of the inside than the out we see of her,” observed Toby.

All our doubts were set at rest at length, when the British ensign was seen flying proudly over that of the French.

Three cheers burst almost involuntarily from our throats, which could hardly have failed to have shown our whereabouts to the French soldiers; but if they guessed the cause, they thought it prudent to take no notice of our proceedings, but, as we supposed, hurried back to their abodes, to conceal any property of value which they might possess. William and Trundle meantime were unable to resist the temptation of going on board the Indiaman, to give our new friends the joyful news. They said that they should be back in plenty of time to see the ships enter the harbour. O’Carroll and I preferred waiting to watch proceedings. At length the frigate and privateer got close in with the land, when both hove-to. What was now to happen? Boats were seen passing between the two vessels, and then the Mignonne’s head came slowly round towards the mouth of the harbour, and on she glided towards it. The flags remained as they were, and men, we saw, were stationed at the guns. Some opposition was probably expected. There was a fort at the entrance of the harbour—not a very formidable-looking affair—with five ship’s guns mounted in it. Round them we saw the greater part of the mongrel garrison clustering as if they were going to show fight, but if so, they thought better of it, for, after a short consultation, they sneaked away, leaving the fort to take care of itself. The Mignonne came gliding on, bearing evident traces in her masts and rigging of the punishment she had received, and of the obstinacy—or what would have been valour in a better cause—with which she had been defended. We met the midshipmen running down towards the landing-place, and jumping into the first boat we could find, we got alongside her directly she dropped anchor.

“Why, Braithwaite, Trundle! where have you come from?” exclaimed several voices, as the midshipmen clambered up the side.

They soon gave an account of themselves, and I need scarcely say that we were heartily welcomed by the officers of the Phoebe in charge of the prize, who were in high spirits at having captured a vessel which had proved one of the greatest pests to British commerce in the Eastern seas. The Frenchmen had not yielded till more than a third of their number lay dead or desperately wounded on her decks. Among them were several of the seamen of the unfortunate Kangaroo, including her wretched captain and mate. The survivors of the Englishmen declared that they had been forced on board and compelled to fight. We declined to express any opinion on the subject. All we could say was that we had missed them from the encampment, and had every reason to suppose that they had fallen into the hands of the French. They thus escaped hanging, which I certainly believe they deserved. The chief offenders had already paid the penalty of their crimes. I need scarcely describe the delight of the passengers of the Indiaman on finding that they could now proceed on their voyage, or of the prisoners who were released from the different hulks. They were the officers and seamen taken in different prizes by the Mignonne. The excuse the Frenchmen gave for treating them thus barbarously was that the French taken by English cruisers were shut up on board hulks in English harbours without good food or any exercise. They pretended not to understand that, in one instance, the prisoners would inevitably have escaped had they been left at liberty, while in the present they had had no opportunity of escaping. The mouth of the harbour having been surveyed, the frigate came in the next day, that her crew might assist in repairing the Mignonne and getting the Indiaman and the other vessels ready for sea. I was curious to ascertain what O’Carroll would say to finding La Roche at length a prisoner. I asked him if he would go on board the frigate with me to see the French captain.

“I would not do so to triumph over a fallen foe, but perhaps if I was to set eyes on him again for a few times I might get over the intense dislike—even more, the dread, I feel for him,” he answered. “I have reason to feel dislike. He ruined my prospects, he killed my companions, and he treated me with every indignity and cruelty he could devise while I remained on board his ship. He made me serve him as a menial—wait behind his chair, clean his shoes, arrange his cabin, and if I displeased him he ordered his men to flog me. Ay! I never told you that before, I was ashamed to do so. He well-nigh broke my spirit. Had I remained much longer with him he would have done so, or I should have gone mad and jumped overboard. Still I will see him.”

We went on board the frigate and enquired for the privateer captain. Having already, it appeared, broken his parole in England when he had once before been taken, Captain Young had refused to receive it, and he was therefore confined below in a cabin, with a sentry placed over him. It was naturally supposed that he would otherwise take some opportunity of getting on shore, and, knowing the locality, might remain concealed till he could escape from the island altogether. Accompanied by the master-at-arms, we entered the cabin. La Roche was seated in an easy-chair reading a book when the door opened. He did not rise, but, looking up, nodded to O’Carroll, whom he seemed instantly to recognise.

“Ah, mon ami! it’s the fortune of war, you see. Once I had you in my power, now your countrymen have me,” he said, in a cool, unconcerned manner. “It is pleasant, is it not?—pleasanter for you than for me. However, my turn may come next, and then—”

“I hope not. I hope while I live that I may never again be in your hands!” exclaimed O’Carroll, interrupting him. “You remember how you treated me?”

“Oh, well! and it is in your power to inform the captain of this frigate, and probably he will treat me in the same way.”

“No, indeed! Englishmen never treat their prisoners as you treated me,” answered O’Carroll; “Monsieur knows that well enough. I did not come here to insult you; I did not come to triumph over you. You had inspired me with a horror I could not get over. I came here to be cured. I am so, thoroughly. You have done much injury to the commerce of my country, and the only ill I wish you is that you may be kept a close prisoner till the termination of the war, and never again be able to do an injury to Englishmen.”

La Roche shrugged his shoulders at this address, and smiled. “Well, you Irishmen are indeed curious. I should have thought that you would have liked to see me hung up to the yard-arm,” he observed, in the same cool tone as before. “However, your moderate wishes may be gratified, or I may make my escape; and if I do, and ever capture you again, I promise you that I will remember your moderation, and treat you to the best of everything I have on board.”

We soon after this brought our interview with the famous privateer captain to an end, and O’Carroll assured me that all his unpleasant monomaniacal feelings with regard to him had been, as he hoped, completely dissipated. As we were about to leave the ship Captain Young politely invited us to remain and dine with him. He showed much interest in O’Carroll’s account of his misfortunes, and finally arranged that he should take the command of one of the vessels in the harbour to convey the emigrants to New South Wales. I, of course, received no direct communication from Captain Hassall, but from the information Captain Young gave me I had great hopes that the Barbara, instead of sailing immediately for the east, had gone to the coast of Madagascar, in which direction the Phoebe herself was bound. Captain Young offered me a passage should I wish to rejoin my ship. The Indiaman being refitted for sea by the united exertions of all the crews, we all sailed out of the harbour in succession, the Phoebe leading. The Mignonne, with her prize crew and some of the prisoners on board, was bound for the Mauritius, to give information of the capture of the island; the emigrant ship was bound for New South Wales, the Indiaman for Calcutta, we for Madagascar. I went on board the Argo, the ship commanded by O’Carroll. I found him well satisfied with his change of circumstances. There was only one thing about which he was concerned. La Roche, though still a captive, was alive, and might soon regain his liberty.

“If he does I’m sure that he will cause me trouble again,” he observed. “I don’t know what causes it, but I even now cannot think of the venomous little man without a feeling of dread—a creeping sensation, Braithwaite. Do you know what it is?”

“Not exactly,” said I. “But the remedy I suggest is not to think of him. Whenever his image appears banish him with a kick. Or, let me be serious, O’Carroll. Is it not our own fault if we go on living in fear of death all our life long! Put your trust in God, and fear not what man can do to you.”

“You are right! you are right!” exclaimed O’Carroll, warmly; “it is just the want of doing that has made me—no coward, as you know—constantly tremble at unseen dangers. Henceforward I will try to follow your advice.”

“Do,” said I; “and depend on it your dread of the little Frenchman will completely and for ever vanish.”

I parted from O’Carroll—as honest a man as ever broke a biscuit—with the sincere hope that we should meet again. The crews of our respective ships gave three hearty cheers as we separated on our respective courses. We accompanied the Mignonne for some distance towards the Mauritius, when several sails were reported in sight from the mast-head.

“I hope that they are enemies!” I heard Trundle thoughtlessly exclaim. “Glorious fun to have a fight. We, too, should soon give a good account of them.”

Both ships were speedily got ready for action, for in those days it was difficult to sail far without meeting an enemy. It might be one to be captured—snapped up in an instant; it might be one of equal or not of vastly superior size, to be fought bravely, and taken in the end; or, mayhap, one so much larger that it would be necessary to make all sail and run away, a proceeding not very often practised in those days by British naval commanders. It was rather doubtful, however, from the number and size of the ships in sight, whether we should not find it necessary to have recourse to the last expedient. We continued, however, steering as before, and rapidly nearing the strangers, when, to the relief of the less pugnaciously disposed, first one and then the others made their number, and we discovered, as we got sufficiently near to exchange telegraph signals, that they were three frigates—the Galatea, Racehorse, and Astrea—on their way to the coast of Madagascar to look after a French squadron, which, having been driven away from the Mauritius, had gone in that direction. We should now be a fair match for the Frenchmen whenever we should meet them. Having put most of our prisoners well guarded on board the Mignonne, we parted from her, she to continue her passage to the Mauritius, we to accompany our consorts in search of the enemy.

A bright look-out was now kept for the enemy, and from sunrise to its setting the mastheads were adorned with eager watchers, each wishing to be the first one to espy the Frenchmen. However, the lofty mountain ridges of Madagascar hove in sight before any of them were seen. I had become very anxious about the fate of the Barbara. Had she prosecuted her voyage to this coast, and fallen in with the enemy? If so, she must have been captured, and too probably sent away to one of the settlements. In spite of my advice to O’Carroll, this idea took complete possession of my mind, and I felt convinced that the voyage from which so much had been expected would come to nought.

Night closed in on us, and the usual answer was given to the watch below by those who had come off deck, “Not a sign of a sail in sight.” The next morning the sun arose out of his ocean bed brighter even than is his wont in that bright clime, first lighting up the topmost heights of the mountains with a roseate tinge, while a purple hue still lay spread over the calm ocean. As usual, officers and men were going aloft, with telescopes over their shoulders, to take a look round for the enemy, when, as the sun rose higher, a shout of satisfaction burst from many a throat, for there lay, well in with the land, their white canvas shining brightly in his beams, the French frigates of which we were in search. The wind came off the land, and we were far to leeward. They thus had greatly the advantage of us. We did our utmost, however, to beat up to them. Every sail that could draw was set, and we continued to tack and tack hour after hour, hoping to reach them, and that some fortunate shift of wind would give us the weather gauge and enable us to choose our own time for action. As I went along the decks I was struck by the bold and determined appearance of the men as they stood at their quarters, stripped to the waist, and mostly with handkerchiefs of many colours tied round their heads. The costume was appropriate, for the heat was excessive, besides which, sailors know well that the suffering is much less, should they be wounded, if no pieces of cloth are carried into the body with the shot. They were chatting and laughing, and many of them were cutting all sorts of jokes. I had volunteered to serve as the captain’s aide-de-camp, to carry messages for him to any part of the ship, or to assist the surgeons in the cockpit.

“You would do good service on deck, and I respect your feeling in offering to be there,” he answered; “but you are a non-combatant. You have nothing to gain by exposing your life. You will therefore oblige me by performing the far more painful task of assisting the surgeons.”

I bowed with a feeling of disappointment at my heart, which I probably exhibited.

He smiled and said, “It is possible, after all, that there may be very little employment for your talents.”

There was a shout on the upper deck, taken speedily up by the men on the main deck. The enemy were seen bearing down on us. On they came, nearer and nearer. Where we lay it had fallen a perfect calm, and our sails kept flapping against the masts. Still the breeze favoured them. I felt very queer, I confess. I had no intention of going below till I was wanted, and it did not occur to me that I might be turned into a patient myself. The delight of the sailors at seeing the French thus boldly approaching was excessive, nor did they fail to praise them for their courage.

“Bravo! Johnny Crapaud. That’s more than I thought of you. Come along! Don’t leave us again. We won’t hurt ye more than we can help. You are brave fellows, that you are; we always thought so. Now you show it. Bear a hand, though.”

I heard such and similar expressions from most of the men as I passed along the decks. Suddenly there was a gloom from one end of the ship to the other. The breeze which had been bringing the Frenchmen along suddenly dropped. It had served, them, however, well enough to bring them pretty close up to us.

“Now,” I thought to myself, “I shall see what a regular stand-up sea-fight is like.”

Still I could not help feeling all the time that my vocation was one of peace, and that I had no business to be where I was. That is not a pleasant sensation. The great thing for a man to feel in time of danger is that he is at his post and doing his duty. As I was in for it, I determined to do my best to be of me, and to trust to the God of mercy for protection. The enemy soon showed us that they had no intention of being idle. A shot came whistling over our heads, and fell a considerable distance on the other side of us. This showed them that we were within gunshot range of each other, and immediately they opened fire in earnest. Some of the shot flew over our heads, others on one side or the other, but hitherto none had struck us. I had a hope that, after all, there would be no bloodshed. We meantime had commenced firing, but either the Frenchmen’s powder was better or their guns longer, for our shot mostly appeared to fall short, greatly to the vexation of our crew. The enemy also having had the last of the wind, while we were becalmed, were able to take up a better position than we had, and continued warmly engaging us, we often being scarcely able to return a shot.

As I had nothing to do below, I remained on deck. More than once, however, I could not help ducking my head as a shot whistled above it. Possibly it might have been too high to have struck me. However, I soon got accustomed to that, and as no one had as yet been hurt, I began to fancy that after all a sea-fight was not so terrible an affair as I had supposed, and that possibly we and the Frenchmen might part without doing much harm to each other. I had been standing near a fine young fellow, Jem Martin by name, captain of a gun, who had for some time past been cutting, with more than ordinary humour, numbers of jokes on the enemy. I was struck by his bold attitude and thoroughly sailor-like look. His bright blue eye beamed with life and animation. I had turned my head away from him when a shot whistled by, and I heard a piercing shriek, such as a strong man utters but once, wrung from his bosom by mortal agony. I looked round, and on the deck lay the shattered body of a human being. There were a few spasmodic movements of the limbs, and all that remained of Jem Martin was the mangled corpse at my feet. I shuddered, for I could not help feeling that such as he was I might now have been.

The event seemed to affect his shipmates but little; another seaman took his place, and the gun was loaded, run out, and fired. The fact was that they had no time just then for thought or the indulgence of feeling. The enemy’s shot now came thicker and thicker; many went through the sails, others wounded the masts and spars and cut away the rigging, and several more of our men were hit. As soon as they were carried below, I followed, to assist the surgeon in attending to their wounds. I had long before this forgotten all about the danger to which I was myself exposed, but I could not forget that I had a young brother on board who might any moment be numbered among the killed or wounded. It seemed to me, indeed, that we were getting so much the worst of it, that I began to dread that the flag of England might have to strike to that of France. The idea was not a pleasant one; it was not, however, shared in by others on board.

After we had received a pretty severe battering for the space of two hours, the breeze got up, and the Frenchmen hauled off to repair damages. On seeing this the rage of our men became very great, and they cried out to the officers that they might be allowed to go after them. As the enemy were to windward this was not easily to be done, and we had to wait patiently in the hope that the enemy would choose to renew the fight, while in the meantime our top-men were knotting and splicing rigging, and the carpenter’s crew were strengthening the wounded yards and stopping shot-holes. At length the breeze reached us, and as it filled our sails the crew cheered in anticipation of being able soon to get to closer quarters with the enemy. After making numerous tacks, two of our squadron got up to two of the French ships, which seemed in no way disposed to refuse battle. While our gallant commodore closed with the Renommé we engaged the Clorinde. The fight soon gave work for our surgeons, and I went below, as I had undertaken to do, to help them. As I left the deck I cast a glance at my young brother, who had charge of a division of the guns, and was standing on the deck cheering on the men, full of life and animation. The shots were thickly flying about his head; any moment one might lay him low. I could but offer up a prayer for his safety.

The surgeon and his mates were already at work. I hung up my coat and tucked up my sleeves, prepared to assist them. I will not describe the scene of suffering I witnessed. Most of the poor fellows bore their agony with wonderful fortitude. Two officers had been brought below wounded. I kept looking up anxiously every time I saw the feet of men descending the ladder, dreading that they might be bringing down my young brother. Still I kept praying for his safety while I followed the surgeons’ directions. A young seaman had been brought down fearfully wounded. I had remarked him on several occasions among the most active and zealous of the crew. The surgeon examined him. He did not groan—indeed, he did not appear to suffer much pain.

The surgeon shook his head. “I can do nothing for him,” he whispered to me. “You may be able, perhaps, to speak a word of comfort, and there is nothing just now for you to do.”

I was rather surprised at the surgeon saying even thus much. Perhaps the light of the lantern, which at that moment fell on my countenance, revealed my thoughts, for he added, “I was asked to look after the lad, whose mother is a widow, and, God help me! I have done little for him, and now it is too late.”

The young seaman was placed on a hammock opened out on the deck of the cockpit. I knelt down by his side, and, after repeating such passages out of the Word of life as occurred to me, I engaged in prayer. He followed me in a low voice. Suddenly he was silent. I looked toward him; the immortal spirit had taken its flight from his frail body. Still the battle raged; more of our poor fellows were brought down, and I once more was called on to assist the surgeons in their painful task.

Chapter Twelve.

A Glorious Victory.

I began seriously to fear that we were getting the worst of it. Shot after shot came crashing on board, and several more men were brought down. I expressed my fears aloud to the surgeon. A poor fellow already on the table about to undergo amputation overheard me. “Don’t think of that, sir,” he exclaimed; “they are tough ones, those mounseers, but we’ll go down with our colours flying sooner than strike them.”

At that instant our ears were saluted by loud cheers, which burst from the crew on deck. Still the firing was kept up, and it was evident that our ship continued in action. At last, another wounded man being brought down, we heard that the Renommé, the French commodore’s frigate, had struck.

In a few minutes another cheer was heard, the firing ceased, and we had the satisfaction of finding that the Clorinde had also struck her colours to us. My heart felt intense relief when I found that the action was over, and that my young brother had escaped without a wound. Then I recollected that those who had been killed had not been brought below. I wondered that he had not come below to relieve my anxiety. Those of whom I inquired could not tell me what officers had been killed. The instant, therefore, I could leave the poor suffering fellows I had undertaken to assist, I hurried on deck. When I went below the frigate had presented a trim and orderly appearance. Now her sails were torn and full of shot-holes, her running rigging hung in loose festoons, with blocks swaying here and there, her bulwarks were shattered, her lately clean deck ploughed up with round shot covered with blood and gore, and blackened by powder. The thickening shades of evening threw a peculiar gloom over the whole scene. I looked anxiously round for William. I could not see him. My heart sank within me. Could he be among the slain? A midshipman hurried past me.

“Where is Braithwaite, my brother?” I asked, in a trembling voice.

“There; don’t you see him on the forecastle?”

I looked in the direction to which he pointed. My heart bounded up again as I saw him directing the men engaged in bending a fresh foresail, which had before concealed him from my sight. My voice trembled with emotion as I ran forward, and, shaking him by the hand, congratulated him on our victory and his safety. He seemed scarcely to understand my agitation.

“Yes, I am thankful to say we have thrashed the enemy, and I wish there were a few more to treat in the same way. There is one fellow making off, and I am afraid the Astrea will not be able to work up to bring her to action.”

I looked out as he spoke. One of our frigates, to which he pointed, was a long way to leeward, while a French frigate was standing under all sail to the north-west. Our two antagonists appeared fearfully shattered, both the French commodore’s ship and the Clorinde, which was even in a worse condition than we were. All our boats had been so injured by shot that we were unable to send one to take possession of our prize, and as the night was now rapidly coming on, we could not hope to do much to repair damages till the morning. As long, however, as the men could work, the carpenter’s crew continued putting the ship to rights. The rest of the already overworked crew were then piped below, that they might be able to renew their labours on the morrow. I had plenty to do in assisting the surgeons in attending on the wounded, till at last, well wearied out, I turned into my hammock, thankful that my dear brother and I had escaped the perils of the fight, and sincerely hoping that, as it was my first battle, so it might be the last in which I should be engaged. Before going below I took a look towards our prize, whose light I saw burning brightly at no great distance from us. I had now time to think of my own affairs, and of course was not a little anxious about the fate of the Barbara, for it was too probable that she had fallen into the hands of the Frenchmen. If so, they would probably have sent her to France, as she was well provisioned for a long voyage, or to one of their settlements, where she could be disposed of to advantage. My sleep was sadly disturbed with these thoughts and with the scenes of pain and suffering I had witnessed. I awoke soon after it was light, and dressing quickly went on deck. It was to find everybody there in a state of no small anger and vexation.

“She is off, gone clean out of sight,” I heard people saying.

I inquired what was the matter.

“Why, it is enough to vex a man, Mr Braithwaite,” observed the first lieutenant. “As we could not send on board last night to take possession of our prize, she has managed to slip away during the darkness. She left a light burning astern on a cask to deceive us. If we ever come up with her we’ll make her pay dearly. The other fellow, too, has got clear away; however, we will find him out, wherever he has hid himself.”

Soon after this the commodore signalled to us to send our boats to assist in removing the prisoners from the Renommé. Thanks to the exertions of the carpenter and his crew, three were already made capable of floating. I asked to take an oar, as I wished to go on board the prize. No sooner did I step on board than I regretted having come. Terrible was the scene of slaughter I witnessed. The frigate had been crowded with troops, nearly one-half of whom had been cut down by the Galatea’s shot, which she had poured into the Frenchman’s hull. The crew were only now beginning to throw the dead bodies of their shipmates overboard. The French commodore, a gallant officer, and many others, were killed. But the wounded nearly doubled the killed, and they chiefly excited our sympathy. Their own surgeons were already almost worn out with attending to them, and of course we could not spare any of ours to render them assistance. The more of the effects of war I saw, even on this small scale, the more I longed for the time when wars are to cease and nations to live at peace with each other. It was not, however, the fashion to speak on that subject in those days, nor do the nations of the world, alas! appear more inclined now than then to bring about that happy state of things!

When taking some of the prisoners on board the Galatea, I found she had also suffered severely, though not at all in proportion to the Renommé. Captain Schomberg ordered us, as soon as our damages were repaired, to make sail for the port of Tamatave, on the east coast of Madagascar, where he suspected the other French frigate had taken refuge, her captain supposing probably that we should return at once with our prizes to the Mauritius. The Astrea coming up, her crew went on board the Renommé, to put her to rights, and this being done, all four frigates made sail together for Tamatave. It is merely a reef-formed harbour, and by no means a secure or good one. The English had sent a force of about fifty men there after the reduction of the Mauritius, and they had, we understood, built a fort, or taken possession of an old one. It was a question whether they had been able to hold it against the French, or had been compelled to surrender. As we approached the coast, all our glasses were in requisition, to ascertain whether any ships were at anchor off the place. There were two, certainly, one larger than the other. The wind was light, but we at length got in close enough to see that the French flag flew at their mastheads, as also over the fort, and that there were several smaller vessels. I thought that there would be more fighting, but instead of proceeding to that extremity, the commodore sent in a boat with a flag of truce, pointing out the overpowering force he had under him, and demanding the instant surrender of the ships and fort.

We anxiously watched for the return of the boat, for if the demand were not acceded to we should have, it was understood, to go in and cut out the ships with our boats. Many liked the thought of such an exploit, in spite of its dangerous character. It was very possible that the French captain might hope, with the support of the fort, to be able to beat off the boats, and to hold out until the squadron should be driven off by a storm. At last the boat was seen returning. The frigate was the one which had escaped from us. Her captain wisely agreed to yield to the fortune of war, and to give her up with all her prizes, and the fort into the bargain.

“And what is the name of the other ship?” I asked.

“The Barbara merchantman,” answered the lieutenant. “She was on the point of sailing with a French crew when we appeared, so that her owners have had a narrow chance of losing their property.”

This was, indeed, satisfactory news. I was, of course, very eager to go on board and hear from Captain Hassall what he intended doing. The account brought off as to the state of the English garrison was melancholy. The fort was built in an especially unhealthy spot, with marshy undrained land close round it. The consequence was, that of the fifty men who had been sent there, when the French appeared not a dozen were alive, and that sad remainder were scarcely able to lift their muskets. They had therefore at once yielded to the enemy. Several others had since died, but the sickly season being now over, it was hoped that the remainder would live on till the next year, when in all probability during the same season they would share the fate of their comrades. I got a passage in one of the next boats which pulled in. Captain Hassall had been allowed by the French to return to his ship, and he was taking a turn on deck when I went alongside. He looked at me curiously two or three times when I stepped on deck, and, raising his hat, inquired what I wanted. Suddenly he stopped when he got close up to me, exclaiming, “What! James Braithwaite, my dear boy, is it really you? I am delighted to see you, for to say the truth, I had given you up as lost. I never supposed that cockleshell of a boat in which you left the ship would have survived the hurricane which came on directly afterwards.”

There was one question above all others I wished to ask him, “Have you written home to tell my friends of my loss?”

“No,” he answered; “I have so often found people turn up whom I thought had been lost, that I am very unwilling to send home bad news till it is absolutely necessary, and as I did not require your signature, I was able to avoid mentioning that you were not on board.”

This answer greatly relieved my mind, and I was in a short time able to talk over our arrangements for the future. The capture of the Barbara would, of course, be a heavy expense to the owners; but if the voyage should prove as successful as we still hoped it would, a handsome profit might yet be realised. To that object we had now to bend all our energies. We were therefore anxious as soon as we could to proceed on our voyage. I had heard from the captain of the Phoebe that an expedition was fitting out in India for the capture of Batavia, the chief town in Java, of which the French now held possession; and we had great hopes, if we could reach it soon after the English had gained the place, which of course we expected they would do, that we should sell a large portion of our cargo to great advantage. Before sailing, however, we determined to see what trade could be carried on with the natives. Fortunately, the French had not touched our cargo for that purpose. Though they had made frequent attempts to form settlements in Madagascar, they had never succeeded in gaining the confidence and goodwill of the natives. Had the plans of the Count Benyowsky been carried out when he offered his services to France, they might possibly have obtained a powerful influence in the affairs of the country, if not entire possession of it. His plans were, however, completely defeated by the governor of the Mauritius, who, looking on Madagascar as a dependency of that island, was jealous of his—the Count’s—proceedings, and finally drove him to make common cause with the natives against the French Government. I heard some details of the life of that extraordinary adventurer. The Count Benyowsky was a Polish nobleman, who for some political reason was banished by the Russian Government to one of its settlements in the extreme eastern part of Siberia, whence it seemed impossible for him ever to find his way back to Europe. The governor of the town in which the Count was compelled to reside had a daughter, young and lovely, who had conceived a warm affection for him, which appears to have been fully returned. Through the means of this young lady he was able to gain information as to everything which was taking place. He heard, among other things, that two large Russian ships were expected at the neighbouring port. He had long been looking out for the means of making his escape from Siberia.

Here was an opportunity. None but a man of great boldness and energy would, however, have considered it one. He was a prisoner in a fortified town; it contained a considerable number of his countrymen, but they were prisoners strictly watched. Still he was determined to make the attempt. He set to work and gained over a hundred men to assist in his dangerous undertaking. By some means they were able to provide themselves with arms. The governor’s fair daughter undertook to obtain the keys of the fortress, provided her father’s life was spared. The adventurers found it impossible to make their escape without first mastering the garrison. The conspirators were mustered, and were ready for the enterprise. The young lady brought her lover the keys. Her last words were, “Do not injure my father.”

“Of course not, if he makes no resistance,” was the Count’s answer.

The gates were opened; the conspirators rushed in. The old governor was, however, not a man to yield without a struggle. Putting himself at the head of some of his men, he endeavoured to keep back the assailants. Again and again he charged them, calling on the troops to rally round him. It was evident to the Count and his companions that if he were allowed to live their undertaking would fail. He therefore, pressed on by numbers, was killed, with all who stood by him.

The adventurers, now putting all who opposed them to the sword, became complete masters of the place, and without difficulty obtained possession also of the two ships which had just arrived. A sufficient number of officers and seamen were found to navigate the ships, and, having provisioned them for a long voyage, the Count, taking the daughter of the governor with him, went on board them, with a hundred companions, and made sail to the southward. The Count had taken precautions against pursuit; indeed, there were probably no Russian men-of-war in those waters at the time, and thus he made good his escape. He touched at a variety of places. He reached Canton in safety. Here he wisely sold his ships, as, had he fallen in with any Russian men-of-war, his destruction would have been certain. At Canton he and his companions embarked on board two French vessels, in which they proceeded to the Isle of France. Here he announced his intention of forming a colony in Madagascar, or perhaps of conquering the country for France.

His plans, as I have said, excited the jealousy of the governor of the Mauritius, and of other people of authority in that island, who determined to oppose him. Notwithstanding, he proceeded to France, where he so completely gained the good opinion of the French minister that he was appointed to take command of an expedition to found the proposed settlement, with the title of governor-general. He had married the daughter of the Russian governor, and she accompanied him in all his travels, but what was her ultimate fate I do not remember having heard. After returning to the Isle of France, where the governor still kept up his hostility, and opposed him by every means in his power, he set sail with about three hundred men for Madagascar. He landed at Antongil Bay, where he was well received by the chiefs, but he at first was subject to a good deal of opposition from the natives generally. He did his best to conciliate them, but as he had often to employ force, and to keep up a strict military rule at the same time, it must have been difficult to persuade them that his intentions were pacific and philanthropic. He seems to have met with heroic courage all the innumerable difficulties by which he was beset. He lost many of his officers and men by sickness, as the position where he attempted to found his first settlement, from being surrounded by marshes, was very unhealthy. Among others, his only boy lost his life by fever. He was left without the necessary supplies he expected from the Isle of France, the governor purposely neglecting to send them. The natives also were incited by emissaries of the governor to oppose him, while, of the officers sent to him, some were incapable, and others came with the express purpose of betraying him. Notwithstanding all these difficulties, by the middle of 1775 the settlers had built a fort in a more healthy situation, which was called Fort Louis, had constructed all the necessary buildings for the town of Louisbourg, and had formed a road twenty-one miles in length and twenty-four feet in breadth. The Count had also done something towards civilising the people, and among other important measures had persuaded the women to give up their practice of infanticide, which had been terribly prevalent. They, however, refused to ratify the engagement without the presence of the Count’s wife, who was residing at the Isle of France. She was accordingly sent for, and on her arrival the women of the different provinces, assembling before her, bound themselves by an oath never to sacrifice any of their children. They agreed that any who should break this oath should be made slaves, while they were to send all deformed children to an institution which had been founded by the Count in the settlement for that purpose.

He had by this time formed alliances with many of the surrounding chiefs, who ever afterwards remained faithful to him. In other parts of the island combinations were formed against him. He accordingly mustered his forces, and marching against his enemies, who had brought forty thousand men into the field, put them to flight. Those who fell into his hands he treated with so much leniency and kindness that he ultimately attached them to his cause. A curious superstition of the natives was the cause of his being at length raised to the dignity of the principal chief of the island. It appears that the hereditary successor to the title was missing, when some of the natives took it into their heads that the Count Benyowsky was the lost heir. The idea gained ground at the very time that the affairs of the Count were in a very precarious condition. His own health was failing, the more faithful among his European officers were dead, his enemies in the Mauritius had succeeded in prejudicing the minds of the members of the French Government against him, and two, if not more, vessels bringing out supplies had been lost. Under these circumstances it is not surprising that he should have accepted the proffered dignity, which shortly led to his being recognised as the principal chief and supreme ruler of the whole island.

Commissioners had been sent out from France to investigate the affairs of the settlement. While they were there he took the opportunity of giving up the command of the settlement to another officer, and entirely dissolved his connection with it and with France, though he at the same time, with the other chiefs, expressed his desire to live on friendly terms with the inhabitants, and to support the settlement to the best of his ability. He employed some time after this in consolidating his power and in improving the condition of the people. He also drew up a constitution, which for those days was of the most liberal character. Having done all he could to civilise the people, he resolved to go to Europe to establish mercantile relations with different countries for the improvement of the commerce of his adopted country.

In France, though he had some friends who welcomed him cordially, he was coldly received by those in power, though his course was supported by the celebrated Dr Franklin, who was at that time in Paris. At length, quitting the country, he went to England; but though he offered to place the country under the protection of the English Government, no encouragement was afforded him. All his hopes in Europe having failed, he set sail for the United States, in the vessel he chartered with a cargo of goods suited to the markets of Madagascar. After remaining for some time in the United States and obtaining another ship and cargo, he reached Antongil Bay in July 1785. He was here cordially welcomed by the chiefs, but instead of going into the interior and assuming the reins of government, he remained on the coast for the purpose of establishing trading-posts where his goods might be disposed of. He had captured one port from the French, and was engaged in repairing a fort built by them, when a body of troops landing from a French frigate attacked him. He retired with some few Europeans and natives into the fort, where he attempted to defend himself. The French advanced, he was shot through the body, and being ignominiously dragged out, directly afterwards expired. Poor Count Benyowsky! I could not help feeling sorrow when I heard of his sad fate.

The climate of the low lands near the seashore was, from what we heard, very unhealthy, but in the hill country of the interior it is as healthy as any part of the world. We heard a good deal of the English and French pirates, who had formed, a century before, some flourishing settlements on the northern coasts. The name of a bay we visited (Antongil) was derived from one of the most celebrated, Anthony Gill. Several other places also obtained their names from members of the fraternity of freebooters. While the pirates continued their depredations on the ocean, they in general behaved well to the natives, but when being hotly pressed by the men-of-war of the people they had been accustomed to rob, they entered upon the most nefarious of all traffics, that of slaves, and to obtain them instigated the people of one tribe to make war on those of another. This traffic has ever since been carried on, greatly contributing to retard the progress of civilisation.

Chapter Thirteen.

Arrival at Java.

I was very sorry to have to part from my brother William, and not a little so from that merriest of merry midshipmen, Toby Trundle.

“We shall meet again one of these days, Trundle,” I said, as I warmly shook hands with him. “I hope it will be in smooth water, too; we have had enough of the rough together.”

I did my best to express to the captain and officers of the Phoebe my sense of the kindness with which they had treated me from the first moment I had stepped on board their frigate to the last. We all sailed together, the men-of-war and their prize, to proceed to the Mauritius, then to refit and get ready for the expedition to Java. We also were bound for Java, but intended first to visit Antongil Bay for the purpose of trading with the natives. I was pleased to find myself among my old shipmates again. They had had no sickness on board, and not a man had been lost. The officers were the same in character, while their individual peculiarities seemed to stand out more prominently than before.

We found the natives at Antongil Bay very honourable in their dealings. Many of the chiefs spoke French perfectly well, and looked like Frenchmen. They were, we found, indeed, descendants of some of the Count Benyowsky’s followers, who had married native women. The children of such marriages were generally highly esteemed by the natives, who had raised them to the rank of chiefs. From what I saw of all classes of the natives of Madagascar, but especially of the upper ranks, I should say that they were capable of a high state of civilisation, and I see no reason why they should not some day take their place among the civilised nations of the east. When that time will come it is impossible to say. Neither adventurers, like the brave and talented Benyowsky, nor French settlements, will bring it about. One thing, indeed, only can produce it—that is, the spread and the firm establishment of true Christianity among the people.

Some days after our departure we had a distant view of the island of Rodriguez. In about a fortnight afterwards we were glad to put on warm clothing instead of the light dress suitable to the tropics; yet we were only in the same parallel of latitude as Madeira. It showed us how much keener is the air of the southern hemisphere than that of the northern. We soon after fell in with the monsoon, or trade wind, which sent us flying along at a good rate; till early in August, on a bright morning, the look-out at the mast-head shouted at the top of his voice, “Land ho! Land ahead!” It was the north-west cape of New Holland, or Australia, a region then, as even to the present day, almost a terra incognita to Europeans. As we neared it, we curiously looked out with our glasses for some signs of the habitations of men, but nothing could be seen to lead us to suppose that human beings were to be found there. The shore was low, sandy, and desolate, without the least intermixture of trees or verdure. A chain of rocks, over which the sea broke furiously, lined the coast. We continued in sight of this most inhospitable-looking land till the next morning. I could not help thinking of the vast extent of country which intervened between the shore at which we were gazing and the British settlement at Port Jackson, of which we had lately heard such flattering accounts. Was it a region flowing with milk and honey? one of lakes and streams, or of lofty mountains? did it contain one vast inland sea, or was it a sandy desert of burning sands, impassable for man?

This was a problem some of my emigrant friends had been discussing, and which I longed to see solved. After losing sight of the coast of New Holland, we had to keep a bright look-out, as we were in the supposed neighbourhood of certain islands which some navigators, it was reported, had seen, but no land appeared. One clear night we found ourselves suddenly, it seemed, floating in an ocean of milk, or more properly, perhaps, a thick solution of chalk in water. The surface was quite unruffled, nor was there the slightest mixture of that phosphoric appearance often seen on a dark night when the sea is agitated. The air was still, though it was not quite a calm, and the sky was perfectly clear. It took us some hours to slip through it. We drew up some in buckets, and found it to contain a small, scarcely perceptible, portion of a fine filamentous substance, quite transparent, such as I have occasionally seen where seaweed is abundant. Whether this was the cause of the milky appearance of the sea or not we could not determine. We were now sailing almost due north, for the Straits of Bally, as the passage is called between that small island and the east end of the magnificent island of Java. About the middle of August, early in the morning, again land was seen from the mast-head, and in a few hours we entered the Straits I have just mentioned. We could see the shores on both sides, that of Bally somewhat abrupt, while the Java shore, agreeably diversified by clumps of cocoa-nut trees and hills clothed with verdure, looked green and smiling, contrasting agreeably with that of New Holland, which we had so lately left. A large number of small boats or canoes were moving about in all directions, those under sail going at great speed. They were painted white, had one sail, and were fitted with outriggers. We had to keep a bright look-out lest we should run suddenly into the jaws of any French or Dutch man-of-war, which, escaping from our cruisers, might be pleased to snap up a richly-laden merchantman like the Barbara. We could not tell at the time whether the proposed expedition had arrived, or, if it had, whether it had been successful.

As we were coasting along, a hill appeared in sight, early in the morning, the summit thickly surrounded by clouds. As this nightcap of vapours cleared away, a remarkable cone was exposed to view, the base covered with the richest vegetation. Soon after this we got so entangled among clusters of rocky islands and coral reefs that we were very much afraid we should be unable to extricate ourselves, and that our ship would get on shore. Though there was not much risk of our losing our lives, the dread of having our ship and cargo destroyed was enough to make us anxious. Fortunately the wind fell, and by keeping look-outs at each fore-yard-arm and at the mast-head, we were able to perceive the dangers with which we were surrounded before we ran on any of them. At length we got into seemingly more clear water, but there being still several reefs and islands outside of us, Captain Hassall thought it prudent to anchor for the night. The shore off which we lay was lined with cocoa-nut and other palm-trees, rivulets were seen flowing down the sides of the hills, which were clothed with spice-bearing and other shrubs, the whole landscape presenting a scene of great tropical beauty.

“If I ever had to cast anchor anywhere on shore, that’s the sort of country I should choose, now,” observed Benjie Stubbs, our second officer, who had been examining the coast for some time through his glass.

“I wouldn’t change one half-acre of any part of our principality for a thousand of its richest acres,” said David Gwynne, our surgeon, to whom he spoke. “Poets talk of the spicy gales of these islands; in most cases they come laden with miasma-bearing fevers and agues on their wings; while it a fellow has to live on shore he gets roasted by day, with a good chance of a sunstroke, and he is stewed at night, and bitten by mosquitoes and other winged and crawling things, and wakes to find a cobra de capella or green snake gliding over his face.”

“Oh, a man would soon get accustomed to those trifling inconveniences, as the natives must do; and money goes a long way in these regions for all the necessaries of life,” answered Stubbs.

I must confess that, lovely as I had heard are many parts of those eastern isles, I was inclined to agree with the surgeon.

It was discovered this evening that in consequence of the heat, or from careless coopering, our water-casks had let out their contents, and that we had scarcely any fresh water in the ship. At Batavia it was very bad, and it might be some days before we should get there, or we could not tell when, should the expedition not have succeeded. It was therefore necessary to get water without delay, and as a river was marked on the chart near to where we lay, we agreed the next morning to go up, and, should we see no fort, to run in and obtain water and any fresh provisions we might require. Accordingly we weighed by sunrise, and, standing in, ran along the coast till we arrived off the mouth of the river we hoped to find. Some native houses were seen, but no fortifications and no buildings of an European character. We therefore thought that we should be perfectly safe in going ashore. On dropping our anchor, several canoes came off laden with turtles, ducks, fowls, cockatoos, monkeys, and other small animals and birds; besides sweet potatoes, yams, and other vegetables, grown by the natives for the supply of the ships passing along the coast. They found plenty of customers among our men, and the ship was soon turned into a perfect menagerie. We without difficulty made the people in the canoes understand that we wanted to replenish our water-casks, and we understood them to say that they would gladly help us. Two boats were therefore lowered and filled with casks; Stubbs took charge of one of them, and I went in the other, accompanied by little Jack Nobs, intending to exchange a few articles which I took with me suitable to the taste of the natives for some of the productions of their country. As we pulled up the river we saw the low shores on either side lined with houses built on high piles, by which they were raised a considerable distance above the ground, some, I should think, fully twenty feet. The only means of entering them was by a ladder, which we found it was the custom of the inhabitants to lift up at night to prevent the intrusion of strangers, but more especially, I should think, of wild beasts. The chief object, however, of their being built in this way is to raise them above the miasma of the marshy ground, which often rises only two or three feet. They were all on one floor, but had numerous partitions or rooms. The roofs, which were covered with palm leaves, projected some distance beyond the walls, so as to form a wide balcony all round. The ground beneath was also in many instances railed in, and thus served for the habitation of ducks, poultry, and cattle.

At the landing-place some way up a number of natives were collected, who received us in a very friendly way. We saw no Dutchmen nor other Europeans. As we could not make ourselves understood by the natives, we were unable to ascertain what had occurred at the other end of the island. The men in the canoes had for clothing only a cloth round their waists, but the people who now received us were habited in a much more complete fashion. They wore the sarong, a piece of coloured cloth about eight feet long and four wide, part of which was thrown over the shoulder like a Highlander’s plaid, the rest bound round the waist serving as a kilt. They all had on drawers secured by a sash, and several wore a short frock coat with buttons in front, called a baju. All had daggers, and several, who were evidently people of some consequence, had two in copper or silver sheaths. The latter had their teeth blackened, which was evidently looked on as a mark of gentility. They also wore turbans, while the lower orders only had little caps on their heads. The watering-place was some little way up the river, and while the mates proceeded there with the boats, I landed at the village or town. I had not proceeded far when I was given to understand that a chief or some person of consequence wished to see me, for the purpose, I supposed, of trading. His habitation was pointed out to me on the summit of some high ground at a distance from the river. It appeared to be far larger than the houses of the village. Without hesitation I set off, followed by Jack, and accompanied by several of my first acquaintance, towards it. I now more than ever regretted having lost O’Carroll, for understanding as he did the languages of the people of the Archipelago, he would greatly have facilitated our proceedings.

The house or palace of the great man was surrounded, as are all the island habitations of every degree which I saw in Java, with gardens. We entered on the north side into a large square court, on either side of which were rows of Indian fig-trees, with two large fig-trees nearly in the centre. Passing through this we found ourselves in a smaller court, surrounded by pillars, and covered in by a light roof. Here most of my companions remained, but I was conducted up a flight of steps to a handsome terrace in front of a building of considerable size, in the centre of which was a spacious hall, the roof richly painted with red and gold. This hall of audience was on the top of the hill; steps from it led down to other houses which composed the dwelling of the chief and his family.

As I looked down from the terrace, I could see the tops of the houses of the poorer class of people, which surrounded the palace of the chief. They were all in the midst of gardens, and had walls round them. I found, indeed, that I was in the centre of a town, or large village, though in coming along I had scarcely seen any habitations, so completely shut in were they by trees and shrubs. I had thus an example of the fertility of Java, and of the industry of its inhabitants. With regard to the habitations of the barbarians whose lands I visited, I must observe that, though there were exceptions to the rule, they were generally far superior in respect to the wants of the occupants than are the dwellings of a large number of the poorer classes in Scotland, and especially in Ireland, and in some districts even in England. They are in good condition, clean, sufficiently furnished, and well ventilated. Granted that the materials of which they are built are cheap, that from the fertility of the land a man by labouring three days in the week can supply all his wants for the remaining four, and has time to repair his house and furniture, and that he has no rates and taxes to pay, still I cannot help believing that there is something wrong somewhere, that God never intended it to be so, and that it is a matter it behoves us to look to more than we have done. Though distance seemed to increase my love for Old England, it did not blind me to her faults, and I often blushed when I found myself among heathen savages, and saw the superiority of some of their ways to ours. These or similar thoughts occupied me while I stood on the terrace gazing on the fine prospect around, and waiting for the appearance of the chief.

After some time the chief appeared at the entrance of the hall of audience, with a gay coloured umbrella borne over his head, a slave carrying the indispensable betel-box by his side, a handsome turban on his head, and his sash stuck full of jewel-hilted daggers with golden scabbards, while all his attendants stood round with their bodies bent forward and their eyes cast to the ground, as a sign of reverence. I thus knew that I was in the presence of a very important person. I was rather puzzled to discover who he took me for, that he treated me with so much state. How we were to understand each other, and I was to ascertain the truth, I could not tell. I think I mentioned that I learned a little Dutch, which I had practised occasionally with Peter Klopps, my old cousin’s butler.

I tried the chief with some complimentary phrases in that language, but he shook his head; I then tried him with French. He shook his head still more vehemently, and, from the signs he made, I thought that he was annoyed that I had not brought an interpreter with me. After a time, however, finding that he could get nothing out of me, he said something to one of his attendants, who, raising his hands with his palms closed till his thumbs touched his nose in rather a curious fashion, uttered a few words in reply, and then hurried off by the way I had come. I was after this conducted into the hall, where on a raised platform the chief took his seat, making signs to me to sit near him, his attendants having done the same. Slaves then brought in some basins of water, in one of which the chief washed his hands, I following his example. Trays were then brought in, with meat and rice and fish, and certain vegetables cut up into small fragments. There were no knives, or forks, or spoons. The chief set an example, which I was obliged to follow, of dipping his fingers into the mess before him, and, as it were, clawing up a mouthful and transferring it to his mouth. Had his hands not first been washed, I certainly should not have liked the proceeding, but as I was by this time very hungry, and the dishes were pleasant tasted and well cooked, I did ample justice to the repast.

The chief and his attendants having eaten as much as they well could, my young attendant Jack, who sat somewhat behind me, having done the same, water was again brought in, that everybody might wash their hands.

I heard Jack Nobs in a low tone give rough colloquial expressions of his satisfaction.

“They don’t seem much given to talking, though,” he added to himself. “I wonder whether it is that they think we don’t understand their lingo, or that they don’t understand ours; I’ll just try them, though.”

Whereon in a half whisper he addressed the person sitting next to him, who bowed and salaamed very politely in return, but made no reply.

“What I axes you, mounseer, is, whether you feels comfortable after your dinner,” continued Jack, in a loud whisper. “And, I say, will you tell us who the gentleman in the fine clothes is, for I can’t make out nohow? Does he know that my master here is a great merchant, and that if he wishes to do a bit of trade, he is the man to do it with him?”

The same dumb show on the part of the Javanese went on as before. Jack’s attempt at opening up a conversation was put a stop to by the return of the servant with dishes containing a variety of vegetables and fruits, which were as welcome, probably, to him as to me. One dish contained a sweet potato cooked. It must have weighed from twelve to fifteen pounds. I have heard of one weighing thirty pounds. The natives appeared very fond of it. We had peas and artichokes and a dish of sago, the mode of obtaining which I afterwards saw, and will describe presently. I heard Jack cry out when he saw one of the dishes of fruit. It was, I found, the durian, a fruit of which the natives are very fond, and which I got to like, though its peculiarly offensive odour at first gave me a dislike to it. It is nearly of the size of a man’s head, and is of a spherical form. It consists of five cells, each containing from one to four large seeds enveloped in a rich white pulp, itself covered with a thin pellicle, which prevents the seed from adhering to it. This pulp is the edible portion of the fruit. However, a dish of mangostine was more to my taste. It is one of the most exquisite of Indian fruits. It is mildly acid, and has an extreme delicacy of flavour without being luscious or cloying. In external appearance it resembles a ripe pomegranate, but is smaller and more completely globular. A rather tough rind, brown without, and of a deep crimson within, encloses three or four black seeds surrounded by a soft, semi-transparent, snow-white pulp, having occasionally a very slight crimson plush. The pulp is eaten. We had also the well-known Jack-fruit, a great favourite with the natives; and the champadak, a much smaller fruit, of more slender form and more oblong shape. It has a slightly farinaceous consistency, and has a very delicate and sweet flavour. I remember several other fruits; indeed, the chief seemed anxious to show to me, a stranger, the various productions of his country. There were mangoes, shaddocks, and pine-apples in profusion, and several other small fruits, some too luscious for my palate, but others having an agreeable sub-acid taste.

We sat and sat on, waiting for the return of the messenger. I observed that whereas a calabash of water stood near the guests, from which they drank sparingly, a jug was placed close to the chief, and that as he continued to sip from it his eyes began to roll and his head to turn from side to side in a curious manner. Suddenly, as if seized with a generous impulse, or rather having overcome a selfish one, he passed the jug with a sigh over to me, and made signs that if I was so inclined I was to drink from it. I did so without hesitation, but my breath was almost taken away. It was the strongest arrack. I could not ascertain how the chief, who was a Mohammedan, could allow himself to do what is so contrary to the law of the prophet. I observed that his attendants looked away when he drank, as they did when I put the cup to my lips; so I conclude that they knew well enough that it was not quite the right thing to do. All the inhabitants of Java are nominally Mohammedans, but, in the interior especially, a number of gross and idolatrous practices are mixed up with the performance of its ceremonies, while the upper orders especially are very lax in their principles. Most of them, in spite of the law of their prophet prohibiting the use of wine and spirits, drink them whenever they can be procured. The rich have as many wives as they can support, but the poor are obliged to content themselves with one. I should say that my host, when I returned him the jar of arrack, deprived of very little of its contents, gave a grunt of satisfaction, from which I inferred that his supply had run short, and that he was thankful that I had not taken more. I kept anxiously waiting all the time for the arrival of an interpreter, for whom I was convinced the chief had sent. After we lost Captain O’Carroll we returned to our original intention of procuring one at Batavia. This must account for my being at present without one. I had come on shore in the hope that I might make myself sufficiently understood to carry on a trade by means of signs, as I knew was often done. As, however, my new friends would not make the attempt to talk by signs or in any other way, I had to wait patiently till somebody should arrive to help us out of our dilemma.

Chapter Fourteen.

A Prisoner of War.

I at length lost all patience at the non-arrival of the expected interpreter, and, rising, made a profound salaam to the chief, which was, I saw, accurately imitated by Jack, who was at my side with a comical expression of countenance not indicative of much respect for the great man. The chief said something which I understood to mean that he hoped I would remain longer, but as I really was anxious to return on board, I only bowed again lower than before, and pointed towards the harbour, continuing to move in the direction of the entrance. He did not attempt to stop me, and the people who had come with me were, I saw, prepared to accompany me back.

I had just reached the outside, when I saw approaching an individual dressed in the native shirt and sarong, or kilt, whom I naturally took to be a Javanese.

He stopped and looked at me attentively, saying in Dutch, “I was sent for by the chief to come and interpret for a French gentleman who has arrived here on some diplomatic business of importance. I shall be happy to do my best, but you are aware that some of the troops of your countrymen will be here soon, and that then there will be no lack of people better able to interpret for you than I am. You of course know that the English attempted to make a landing, but have been defeated, and it is thought probable that they will make another attempt in this direction.” He appeared to say this in a very significant manner. The information he gave might or might not be correct, but there was a friendliness in his look and tone which led me to suppose that he knew I was English, and that he wished to warn me of my danger. I was doubtful what to say in return, but quickly resolved to hurry down to the watering party to advise them to return on board and to warn Captain Hassall, that he might be ready immediately to get under way. I turned to the seeming native, whom I now discovered to be a Dutchman, and thanked him for what he had told me, remarking that our business was of no consequence, and that as it was possible the wind might change, I proposed returning on board at once. He smiled, and said he thought it was the best thing I could do. This convinced me of his good feeling, and that he knew I was English. Just at that moment a guard of soldiers emerged from the palace, and their officer, addressing the Dutchman, made signs to me that I was forthwith to return.

“I am sorry,” observed the Dutchman to me in English; “we must attend the summons, but your boy need not, and you may send him to let your companions know.”

I took the advice and ordered Jack to find his way down to the boats, and to tell the mates to hurry on board with or without water, and to advise Captain Hassall to get under way immediately. I added, “Tell him to stand off and on for a couple of hours. If I am at liberty I will put off in a native boat, but if I am detained, tell him to save the ship and cargo, and that I hope before long to make my escape.”

Jack fully understood my message, but I must say, to his credit, that he seemed very unwilling to leave me to my fate.

“I am in no danger,” I remarked; “I may possibly be detained a few days, but I am not likely to suffer any other inconvenience. Now, quick, my lad, or the ship and all hands may be caught in a trap.”

Jack gave me a nod, and was off like a shot. I scarcely expected, however, that he would be allowed to go free; but no one, I suppose, had received orders to stop him, and so he pursued his way unmolested. The officers of the guard had, in the meantime, been speaking to the Dutchman, who told me that I must return forthwith, as the chief was waiting to receive me. I of course could do nothing else than face about, and with my new friend accompany the guard. The men were armed with formidable long spears and daggers, but the officer carried a musket, which looked more like an ensign of authority than a weapon to be used. As I returned through the courtyard I considered what I should say to the chief. “Tell the truth and be not afraid,” said conscience. I determined to do so.

When I re-entered the hall of audience, the chief was seated on his divan, and evidently intended to receive me in greater state. Some of the assemblage sat down cross-legged on cushions in front of the divan, while others stood with their bodies bent forward on either side, the guards who remained turning their backs on the great man. The Dutchman and I took our seats on cushions directly below the divan. I found afterwards that among the Javanese a sitting posture is considered more respectful than an upright one. The chief, through the Dutch interpreter, now asked me a number of questions, which, according to my previous determination, I answered correctly. The great man, I thought, looked somewhat surprised at finding that I was not so important a person as he had at first supposed.

Occasionally my Dutch friend remarked that I had better not reply to some of the questions put to me, but I answered that I was perfectly ready to stand by the consequences of anything I might say. Such has been my practice through life—I might say, more modestly, my endeavour—to do right on all occasions, to avow whatever I have done, and to take the consequences, whatever they may be. I do not say that such a mode of proceeding may not occasionally get a man seemingly into trouble, but I do say that it is the only right course, and that he is equally certain to get out of it again; whereas an opposite course must lead him into difficulties, and involve him more and more as he tries to extricate himself by prevarication, subterfuge, or falsehood. I therefore told the chief that I had come on shore hoping to open up a trade with him, under the belief that the country was no longer either in possession of the Dutch or French, but that it was now under the rule of England. If I was mistaken I was ready to undergo the penalty, and must run the risk of being treated as a prisoner of war should I fall into the hands of the French, but that as the English were the friends of the rulers and people of Java, I expected to be treated by him as a friend.

This answer, which I had reason to believe the Dutchman faithfully interpreted, seemed to please the chief. However, he made no direct reply to me, but spoke for some time aside to his companions, whom I took to be officially counsellors or advisers. One made a remark, then another, and at last one said something at which I thought my friend the Dutchman looked rather blank. A good deal of discussion took place, when I heard the chief issue some orders to the officers of the guards. Immediately on this two of the counsellors got up, and with the officer and several other persons, and part of the guard, left the hall.

The movement seemed to give great satisfaction to the counsellors, especially to the gentleman who had made the suggestion, as I fancied, which led to it, while a pleased smile played over the countenance of the chief. All the time the honest Dutchman looked very much annoyed. At length I asked him what it was all about.

“I suppose that I shall not be found fault with for telling you,” he answered. “And I assure you that I would much rather not have to give you such unpleasant information. Do not look surprised or annoyed, and no harm can come of it. The fact is that the chief here, the governor of this district, Mulock Ben Azel, is not a bright genius, and though he had made up his mind to detain you, it had not occurred to him to detain your vessel. The idea, however, was suggested to him just now by one of these cunning gentlemen, and he has sent a party to stop her. The Javanese are rather daring fellows, so that the captain must be smart if he would get away from them.”

This was indeed a disagreeable announcement. I congratulated myself, however, at having sent off Jack to warn Captain Hassall, and I had great hopes that he would have followed my advice and got the Barbara under way before the Javanese could reach her. I thanked the Dutchman for his sympathy and kindness.

“I have a warm regard for the English,” he answered: “I have received much kindness at the hands of your countrymen, and am glad of an opportunity of proving my gratitude. As far as you are concerned I may be of service, but if these gentry get hold of your vessel, I am afraid that they will not let her go till they have cleaned out her hold.”

I, of course, on hearing all this became very impatient to go and see whether the Barbara was leaving the harbour, but as far as I could I concealed my feelings, and desired my Dutch friend to inquire of Mulock Ben Azel whether he desired my presence any longer; and if not, I begged leave to go forth into the open air that I might gaze on the beautiful scenery amidst which he had the happiness of dwelling and I had the happiness of finding myself. I fancy that the interpreter gave my request a more oriental turn. The chief was at all events pleased to comply with it, and directed some of his attendants and my Dutch friend to accompany me. I made a profound salaam, as if I was highly pleased at all that had occurred. The act was somewhat hypocritical, I must confess, but, at all events, I was heartily glad to get over the audience, which was becoming very tedious. As soon as I got out on the terrace I have before described as affording a magnificent view of the surrounding country, I eagerly looked seaward in search of the Barbara. I almost gave a shout of satisfaction as I saw her with a strong breeze off shore, standing away under all the canvas she could carry. She had good reason to make the best use of her heels, for a whole fleet of boats, some of considerable size and full of men, were in hot chase after her. I stood with my companions eagerly watching the chase, though the objects of our interest were very different. I was anxious that the Barbara should escape, they that she should be caught. I knew for one, though, that if good seamanship would enable him to get away, Captain Hassall would give his pursuers the slip. I knew too that he would not be taken, even if the boats should catch him up, without a fight. My earnest hope was therefore that the breeze might continue. In that climate, however, the land wind often falls towards the evening, and if it should do so, it would give the Javanese a great advantage. I found my new friend by my side, and I glanced at him.

“Your vessel sails well, and I am glad of it,” he observed. “The orders were to bring her in at all risks; at the same time, if her captain shows a bold front I do not think the natives will dare to attack him at a distance from the land.”

My hopes and fears alternately rose and fell as I watched the chase. Sometimes the boats seemed to be gaining on her. At other times she appeared to be obtaining the advantage. She continued to increase her canvas till every stitch she could carry was set on her, studding sails on either side, royals, and even still lighter sails above them, which we used to call skyscrapers. I now observed that although there were several large boats engaged in the chase, they were but slow sailers, and that the small ones were drawing ahead of them. These of course would be more easily dealt with by the Barbara’s crew than the larger craft.

The latter were vessels of about forty tons, carrying fifty or sixty persons. The hulls of those I had seen on landing were neatly built, with round heads and sterns; and over the hulls were light small houses, composed of bamboos, and divided into three or four cabins. The sides were formed of split bamboos about four feet high, with windows in them to open and shut at pleasure; the roofs were almost flat, and thatched with palm leaves. The oars are worked by the crew standing at the fore and after-part of the vessel. I thought that probably the boats now in chase of the Barbara were modifications of this sort of craft, and more adapted to warlike purposes than they were. The natives became at length even more excited than I was as the breeze occasionally fell and gave their boats an advantage. They knew also that the land breeze would soon set in, which I did not. They probably fancied that when it did the vessel would be caught in a trap, not knowing that she could haul her wind and still keep ahead of them.

I stood watching the various circumstances of the chase, till at length, greatly to my relief, I saw the boats, as if by signal, begin to return together towards the shore, while the Barbara continued standing off shore till she met the sea-breeze, when she hauled her wind and stood away to the northward. My Dutch friend congratulated me on her escape.

“And as it appears that you are not to be detained as a prisoner, the sooner you get out of this place the better,” he observed. “I will gladly welcome you to my abode, where you can remain till we gain further information as to the result of the British expedition against Batavia. If it is ultimately successful, your ship will put in at that place, and you can rejoin her.”

I gladly accepted his offer. As we passed through the large entrance court he pointed out two large Indian-fig-trees, and told me that under them was the place where criminals were executed. On each side of the court was a row of the same description of tree. We descended the hill towards the harbour. On approaching it I heard the shrill voice of a boy crying out loudly amid the shouts and chattering of a number of natives. I soon recognised the voice of Jack Nobs, who had, I had hoped, made his escape in the boats. The people, seeing me accompanied by guards, made way for Jack, who ran towards me, crying out—

“Oh, save me, Mr Braithwaite! save me, sir! These savinges are a-going to cut off my head, or to hang me up and cook and eat me. They eat people in these parts, and they look as if they would make nothing of devouring me.”

In vain I tried to pacify him. He seemed to fear that the natives were going to treat me in the same way he thought that they were about to treat him.

“But what made you come back, Jack?” I asked. “I thought that you had gone off to the ship.”

“What, leave you all alone among the savinges!” he answered, looking up reproachfully at me. “No, no, sir. After you have been so kind to me, and always took me with you wherever you’ve been, and we was nearly all drowned together! No, no, if harm is to come of it, I says to myself, I’ll go shares with Mr Braithwaite, whatever happens; so, when the boats shoved off, I scud away, and when the men called me to come along with them, and not to mind you, for that I could do you no good, I wouldn’t go back, but kept beckoning them to be off; so away they went, and I ran up in shore and hid myself. The savinges, howsomdever, found me out at last, and as long as they thought that they should get hold of the ship they treated me civil enough, as they might a pet monkey; but when they found that they could not catch her, they turned their rage on me, and what they’re going to do with us I’m sure I don’t know. Oh dear! oh dear!”

Jack’s fears were very natural, for the dark-skinned, half-naked Javanese, with their glittering kreeses or daggers in their hands, which they flourished about while they vociferated loudly, were very ferocious-looking fellows.

“They are disappointed,” said the Dutchman, “at the escape of your ship, and they accuse the boy of being the cause of the boats going off and giving her warning. Let him, however, keep close to me, and I will do my best to protect him.”

My new friend, who, by-the-bye, told me his name was Peter Van Deck, now addressed the people and told them that the boy was not to blame; whatever he had done was in consequence of the orders he had received, and that he had no intention of offending them. I had slipped a few small pieces of coin, which I had fortunately in my pocket, into his hand, and on his distributing these among the most influential of the assemblage, public opinion was turned completely in our favour, and we were allowed to proceed without further molestation. A small sum bestowed on the officer of the guard had a like beneficial effect, and after receiving an assurance from Mynheer Van Deck that we would not run away, and would be found at his house if wanted, he and his men, very much to my relief, took their departure, while the Dutchman, Jack, and I set off in an opposite direction.

The island of Java, it must be remembered, runs about due east and west. Our course was towards the west, or in the direction of Batavia. There was, however, not far off—about twenty miles I understood—a town and fort, garrisoned by French troops, called Cheribon. The scenery was very fine, heightened by the luxuriance of tropical vegetation. On our left rose a succession of heights, beyond which appeared the summits of the ridge of lofty mountains which runs down the centre of the island, dividing it longitudinally into two parts, of which, however, the northern is the largest, most fertile, and best known. My Dutch friend was very communicative respecting the productions of the country, and the manners and customs of the inhabitants. I noted down, therefore, the information I received from him, which I give in as concise a form as I can.

The climate is certainly hot, as might be expected from being so near the equator, but it is much more endurable than I had expected to find it, and on the sides of the mountains it is often quite cool, so that thick clothing is necessary. As also the nights are nearly the same length as the days, there is time for the air to cool while the sun is below the horizon. The bad or unhealthy monsoon blows from the west, from the end of November to the beginning of March. This is the rainy season. After it the easterly winds blow for some time. The breaking up of the monsoon is the most unhealthy season of all. There are no navigable rivers, but numerous streams descend from the mountains and irrigate the land. One of the chief productions of this country is pepper. It is produced from a plant of the vine kind, Piper nigrum, which twines its tendrils round poles or trees, like ivy or hops. The pepper-corns grow in bunches close to each other. They are first green, but afterwards turn black. When dried they are separated from the dust and partly from the outward membranous coat by means of a kind of winnow, and are then laid up in warehouses. The white pepper is the same production as the black. It undergoes a process to change its colour, being laid in lime, which takes off the outer black coat and leaves it white.

Rice is also produced in large quantities. It grows chiefly in low fenny ground. After it has been sown, and has shot up about half a foot from the ground, it is transplanted by little bundles of one or more plants in rows; then, by damming up the many rivulets which abound in this country, the rice is inundated in the rainy season, and kept under water till the stalks have attained sufficient strength, when the land is drained by opening the dams, and it is soon dried by the great heat of the sun. At the time of the rice harvest the fields have much the same appearance as our wheat and barley fields, and indeed are uniformly covered with a still more brilliantly golden hue. The sickle is not used in reaping the rice, but instead of it a small knife, with which the stalk is cut about a foot under the ear; this is done one by one, and the ears are then bound in sheaves, the tenth of which is the pay of the mower. The paddee, which is the name given to the rice while in the husk, does not grow, like wheat and barley, in compact ears, but, like oats, in loose spikes. It is not threshed to separate it from the husks, but pounded in large wooden blocks hollowed out, and the more it is pounded the whiter it becomes when boiled. Rice, with fish or a little meat chopped up, constitute the chief food of the inhabitants. Sugar, coffee, and indigo are also largely produced.

For the purposes of agriculture buffaloes are used instead of horses. They are very large animals, bigger and heavier than our largest oxen, furnished with great ears, and horns which project straight forward and bend inwards. A hole is bored through the cartilage of the nose, and these huge animals are guided by a cord which is passed through it. They have little eyes, and their colour is generally ashy grey. They are so accustomed to be led three times a day into the water to cool themselves, that they cannot without doing so be brought to work. The people themselves, by-the-bye, are great bathers, both men and women, the children, who seldom wear clothes till they are seven or eight, being constantly in the water. That said custom must be a great saving of expense to the parents of a large family. The people are generally of a light brown colour, of the middle height, and well proportioned, with a broad forehead and a flattish nose, which has a slight curve downward at the tip. Their hair is black, and is always kept smooth and shining with cocoa-nut oil. The dress of the women consists of a piece of cotton cloth wrapped round the body and covering the bosom, under which it is secured; it then hangs down to the knees, and sometimes to the ankles, while the shoulders and part of the back remain uncovered. The hair of their head, which they wear very long, is turned up and twisted round like a fillet, fastened with long bodkins of different sorts of wood, tortoiseshell, silver, or gold, according to the rank of the lady. It is often adorned with a variety of flowers. The Javanese are nominally Mohammedans, but in the interior especially a number of idolatrous practices are still kept up.

Pleasantly conversing we at length reached the residence of Mynheer Van Deck. It was built in the best style of native architecture, that is to say, on a raised platform of stone or brick; the outer walls were of brick, with a verandah of bamboo, all round which the partitions, as was most of the furniture, were of bamboo, which had a very cool appearance, and was sufficient for a hot climate. My host was a bachelor, not from choice, he assured me, but from necessity, on account of the scarcity of European ladies in the island.

“Those who are born here are so ill-educated, and so indolent, that a man is better without their society,” he remarked.

In spite of this drawback he received me very hospitably and kindly, and though I was vexed at having again been separated from my ship, I confessed to myself that I had very little cause to complain of my lot. I was leaning back on an easy bamboo chair and gazing out through a vista of palm-trees on the deep blue sea, when the clatter of horses’ feet coming along the road caught our ears. As they drew near the clank of sabres was heard at the same time. The voice of an officer crying “Halt” was next heard, and soon afterwards we saw him approaching the house. My host, with a look of considerable annoyance, rose to receive him. He was a young and pleasant-looking man.

“Ah, Mynheer Van Deck, bon jour,” he said. “You have in your house, I am given to understand, a foreigner, supposed to be an English spy. I am come to demand him from you.”

“I am the person to whom you allude, monsieur,” I said, rising from my seat and going forward. “You are, however, wrongly informed. I am an Englishman, but not a spy. I landed, not knowing that this part of the island was in possession of the French, and had I not been detained I should have returned to my ship.”

“I am not here to dispute the point, monsieur,” he said, bowing politely. “I must perform my duty, and that is to convey you with me to Cheribon, where my superior officers will investigate the matter. You have supped, I conclude; we will therefore take advantage of the cool of the evening, and make good as much of our journey as the waning day will allow us to perform.”

My Dutch friend shrugged his shoulders. There was not much time for consideration. I saw that I had no resource but to obey, though I must own that I did so with a very bad grace.

Chapter Fifteen.

Pirates.

My host, in spite of his annoyance, did not forget the duties of hospitality, and warmly pressed our unwelcome visitor to take some refreshment. The young officer, however, declined, on the plea that the day was already far spent, and that he had no time to spare. On going round to the front of the house, I found two led horses under the charge of a soldier. They were absurdly small for cavalry, and would have been quickly ridden over by any one of our heavy regiments.

I was about to bid Mynheer Van Deck farewell.

“No, not yet, my friend,” he answered. “I purpose accompanying you to Cheribon, that I may render you any service in my power. I have a horse, and will follow immediately.”

The officer made a sign of impatience, so I mounted one of the steeds, and Jack sprang on the back of the other, where he sat very much as a big monkey would have done, fully resolved, it seemed, to enjoy any fun which might be forthcoming. As the French soldiers treated him kindly, and spoke in a good-natured tone to him, though he could not understand what they said, his fears quickly vanished, and he was speedily “hail fellow well met” with them all.

The officer I found a very gentlemanly young man. He rode up alongside me after we had proceeded a little way, and seemed eager enough to talk about La Belle France and Paris; but when I endeavoured to draw any information from him respecting the proceedings at the west end of the island, he closed his mouth, or gave only vague answers. From this I argued that affairs had not gone with the French in quite as satisfactory a manner as they wished. I asked him at last whether he thought that I should be detained or be otherwise inconvenienced by the commandant at Cheribon.

“We shoot spies,” he answered laconically, at the same time shrugging his shoulders as a Frenchman only can do. “C’est la fortune de la guerre.”

“But, my dear sir, I am no spy,” I answered. “The governor, or native chief, purposed to seize my vessel, and I was left on shore while she made her escape. I am but a supercargo anxious to sell the goods entrusted to me.”

The young officer gave a smile of incredulity, yet with an air of so much politeness that I really could not be angry with him; indeed it would have done me no good if I were. We were in a short time joined by Mynheer Van Deck, who came galloping up on a much finer horse than any possessed by the French soldiers. I found from my captor that the journey would be far longer than I had expected, as we had to make a considerable détour to visit a native chief, or prince, to whom he had a message. My belief was that he was beating up for native recruits to oppose the British force, which, if not arrived, must have been hourly expected. We had several natives with us, armed with long spears and daggers, a few only having firelocks. Van Deck told me that we should soon have to pass a river, rather a dangerous spot, on account of the number of tigers which came there to drink, and which had already carried off several natives.

“But surely they would not venture to attack so large a body of men as this,” I remarked.

“Not if we could keep together, unless they happen to be very hungry,” he answered. “Unfortunately, however, the path in some places is so narrow that we have to proceed in single file, and as there are fallen trees and other impediments in the way, travellers are apt to get separated, when, of course, they are more liable to be picked off. I always keep my pistol cocked in my hand, that I may have a chance of shooting my assailant.”

“But I came on shore unarmed, and have no pistols,” I answered.

“Then keep ahead of me, and if I see a tiger spring at you I will fire at him, and do my best to save you.”

“But the poor boy who is with me—he has a poor chance, I am afraid,” I observed, after I had thanked my friend for his offer.

“Oh, he is safe enough if he keeps close to the soldiers; the clatter of their arms frightens the beasts.”

While the Dutchman was speaking we came in sight of the river. It was fordable, though rather deep, and as the leading men on their small horses plunged in the water was up to their saddle-girths. I naturally looked out on either side for our expected enemies. Three or four large animals sprang off just as the leading horses reached the opposite bank. I thought they were tigers.

“Oh, no, they are only wild cats,” said Van Deck. “Rather unpleasant to be caught by one of them asleep, but they are easily frightened.”

I thought to myself, If those creatures are Java wild cats, what must Java tigers be like? We all passed across the stream without any accident, a small body of half-clad natives bringing up the rear. They were climbing up the somewhat steep bank, when a fearful shriek, followed by loud shouts and cries, made me turn my head, and I caught sight of a monster bounding along the bank, with the writhing, struggling body of a human being between his huge jaws. The poor wretch’s sarong, or plaid, had become loose, and dragged after him. Already several natives were setting off in chase, while others were discharging their firearms at the animal, though at the risk of killing the man. The French officer called out to them to desist, and seizing a lance from one of the people, gallantly dashed after the tiger. I naturally wished to join in the chase, but Van Deck entreated me to stop, telling me that I should very likely, if I went, be picked off by another tiger on my return. As it would have been folly to disregard his advice, we pushed on as fast as we could to get out of the narrow defile. We could for several minutes hear the shouts of the natives still in pursuit of the tiger. After some time they rejoined us, but they had not saved the poor man, and had, moreover, lost another of their number, who had been carried off by a tiger just as the first leaped over a cliff fifty feet above the valley, with the man still in its mouth. It was followed triumphantly by its companion.

“This is not the country I should choose to travel in, still less to live in,” I said.

“It cannot be helped,” observed the Dutchman. “I am well off here, a great man among small people. I should be a beggar elsewhere. This is not, however, the country in which a man of education and mind would choose to pitch his tent.”

Torches were lit for the latter part of our journey. It will be remembered that so nearly under the equator as we were the days and nights are of equal length all the year round; we therefore did not enjoy the delightful twilight of a northern clime.

Notice had been given of our proposed visit to the chief, or prince, who was, I was told, of Malay descent. Preparations were therefore made for our reception, and very handsome they were. Though a prisoner, I was treated like the rest of the guests. The house was much in the style of those I have before described. But I was not prepared to find a table elegantly set out and spread with fine linen and beautiful silver plate. It was lighted by four large wax flambeaux in massive silver candlesticks. The provisions were dressed in the Malay fashion, many of the dishes being very palatable, and toasts were drunk with three times three, the Malays of inferior rank, who sat round the room on the ground against the walls to the number of thirty, joining in the huzzas. It was altogether a curious scene of barbaric splendour. The prince escorted us to our rooms, where we found capital beds, beautiful linen, and very fine mosquito-nets, ornamented with fringe. The Malay servants slept under the beds on mats, or in the corners of the rooms, to be in readiness if required. Breakfast was prepared at daybreak, that we might continue our journey in the cool of the morning.

We rested under the shade of some trees during the day, the soldiers keeping up a fearful din to scare away any wild beast who might chance to be prowling about in search of a dinner. The young officer had fortunately a French cook among his men, who very soon contrived to place before us a capital dinner, though of what it was composed I could not discover. I rather think that hashed monkey formed one of the dishes. As, towards night, we approached Cheribon, my kind Dutch friend did his best to keep up my spirits, assuring me that he would spare no pains to prove that I was not a spy. He was not quite sure that the accounts received of the defeat of the English were correct; and the French commandant would scarcely venture to hang me without very strong proofs of my guilt, and with the possibility of being made a prisoner himself by my countrymen ere long, should they have been victorious. Still it was with no very pleasant feelings that I was formally conducted into the fort as a prisoner.

The forts of Cheribon had been allowed to fall into decay by the Dutch, but since the French occupation of the island had been repaired and considerably strengthened. I was told that the commandant boasted that he could hold out against any force likely to be sent against him, even should my countrymen gain the day. I was taken at once before him and examined, but though he had no evidence to prove me guilty, as I was accused of being a spy he would not take my parole. I was by his orders accordingly locked up in a cell with iron bars to the windows, a three-legged stool, and a heap of straw in a corner for a bed. Mr Van Deck had not entered the fort. In a little time Jack was thrust into the cell with very little ceremony. He brought me a message from my Dutch friend, saying that there had been a battle, and he suspected that the French had been defeated. I heartily hoped that he was correct. I had reason to believe that my prison, bad as it was, was the best in the fort, for Jack told me that he had seen guards going round with messes of food which they had put into wretched dark holes, and in one, as he was led along, he saw a miserable gaunt man, with long matted hair, put out a lean yellow hand to take the food. This information made me hope more than ever than Van Deck was right in his suspicions, for I had no fancy to be shut up in a dark cell for months in such a climate, with the possibility of being taken out and shot as a spy. Had I been a naval or military man I should not have been thus treated. Several very unpleasant days and nights passed by, a scanty allowance of coarse food only being brought to me and my young companion.

At length, one day the sergeant threw open my prison door, and Van Deck appearing, took me by the hand and led me out of my noisome dungeon, followed by Jack, who gave a shout of joy as he found himself in the open air.

“I sent to Batavia, where your ship has arrived, and where your statement was fully corroborated, and the commandant had therefore no further excuse for keeping you a prisoner,” said my friend. “But there is another reason why he would not venture to do so much longer. Look there!”

He pointed seaward where several large ships were seen approaching the land. He handed me a glass. I examined them eagerly; they were frigates, with the flag of Old England flying at their peaks. Jack, when he heard this, gave a loud huzza, and threw up his cap with delight, jumping and clapping his hands, and committing other extravagances, till I ordered him to be quiet lest the French soldiers should put a sudden stop to the exhibition of his feelings.

The frigates approached till they had got just within long gunshot range of the fort, when after some time a boat put off from one of them and approached the fort, bearing a flag of truce. That was, at all events, pleasant. There was a chance of a battle being avoided, yet the commandant had so loudly sworn that nothing should make him yield to the English that I was afraid he might be obstinate and insist on holding out. We were on the point of hurrying down to meet the boat, when a sergeant with a guard stopped us and told us politely enough that we must stay where we were, or that Jack and I must go back to prison.

“We must obey orders,” observed Van Deck. “The fact is, that the commandant is aware that you are acquainted with the weak points of the fort, that the gun-carriages are rotten, and many of the guns are themselves honeycombed or dismounted.”

We were conducted out of the way when the officer with the flag of truce entered the fort. Looking from the ramparts, however, we could see the boat and the people in her through Van Deck’s glass, and a young middy was amusing himself, so it appeared to me, by daring some little Dutch, or rather native boys to come off and fight him, which they seemed in no way disposed to do, for whenever he held up his fists they ran off at a great rate. Of one thing I was very sure, that if the French commandant did not yield with a good grace he would be very soon compelled to do so. That squadron of frigates had not come merely to give a civil message and to sail away again. We walked up and down, impatiently waiting to hear what was to be done.

At length, after an hour’s delay, the officer who had brought the message—Captain Warren, of the President—issued from the commandant’s house with his coxswain bearing a flag under his arm. Down came the tricolour of France, and up went the glorious flag of England. Jack was beside himself on seeing this, and I could scarcely refrain from joining in his “Hurra! hurra!” as I hurried forward to meet the English captain, whose acquaintance I had made at the Mauritius. The French commandant intimated, on this, that I was at liberty; but as I felt it would be ungrateful to leave my friend Van Deck abruptly, I resolved to remain on shore for the present with him.

In a very short time the marines came on shore to secure the thus easily acquired possession, but scarcely had they formed on the beach than it was ascertained that a large body of the enemy had entered the town. The order was given to charge through them, and, taken by surprise, the French and Dutchmen threw down their arms, and several officers and others were taken prisoners. Among them was General Jumel, second in command to General Janssen, and Colonel Knotzer, aide-de-camp to the latter, who with others were at once carried off to the ships.

Cheribon I found to be a much larger place than I at first supposed; the streets are narrow but numerous, and in the outskirts especially the houses of the natives are so completely surrounded by trees and bushes that it is impossible to calculate their number. I heard that the Phoebe was one of the squadron, and soon had the satisfaction of shaking hands with my brother William, Toby Trundle, and other officers belonging to her. From them I heard a full account of the engagement which had given the greater part of the magnificent island of Java to the English. I was the more interested as my military brother had taken part in it, and distinguished himself. I hoped to meet him when I got to Batavia.

The army which was commanded by Sir Samuel Auchmuty, consisting of 11,000 men, half being Europeans, disembarked on the evening of the 5th of August at the village of Chillingchin, twelve miles north of Batavia. Colonel Gillespie advanced on the city of Batavia, of which he took possession, and beat off the enemy, who attempted to retake it. A general engagement took place on the 10th at Welteureden, when the French were defeated and compelled to retire to the strongly entrenched camp of Cornells. It was supposed to contain 250 pieces of cannon. Here General Janssen commanded in person, with General Jumel, a Frenchman, under him, with an army of 13,000 men. Notwithstanding this, the forts were stormed and taken, and the greater number of the officers captured. The commander-in-chief, with General Jumel, escaped—the latter, as I have mentioned, to fall very soon afterwards into our hands.

An expedition, consisting of marines and bluejackets, was now organised to meet a body of the fugitive army said to be marching from Cornells. As William was of the party, I got leave to accompany it. That we might move the faster, horses had been obtained, and both marines and bluejackets were mounted—that is to say, they had horses given them to ride, but as the animals, though small, were frisky and untrained, they were sent very frequently sprawling into the dust, and were much oftener on their feet than in their saddles. Our force, as we advanced, certainly presented a very unmilitary appearance, though we made clatter enough for a dozen regiments of dragoons. We were in search of the military chest said to be with the fugitives. We fell in with a large party, who, however, having had fighting enough, sent forward a flag of truce and capitulated. We got possession, however, of some waggon-loads of ingots, but they were ingots of copper, and were said to be of so little value in the country as to have been fired as grape-shot from Cornells. The moon shone brightly forth for the first part of the march, but no sooner did it become obscured than a considerable number of the marines were seized with a temporary defective vision very common within the tropics, called, “Nyctalopia,” or night blindness. The attack was sudden; the vision seldom became totally obscured, but so indistinct that the shape of objects could not be distinguished. While in this state the sufferers had to be led by their comrades. With some it lasted more than an hour, with others not more than twenty minutes, and on the approach of day all traces of it had disappeared.

On our march, during the heat of the day, we passed through a wood, every tree in which seemed to have been blasted by lightning. Not a branch nor leaf remained to afford us shelter from the scorching rays of the sun. Had I not known that the story of the noxious effects produced by the upas-tree was a fiction, I might have supposed that the destruction had been caused by a blast passing amid the boughs of one of those so-called death-dealing trees in the neighbourhood. Probably the forest had been destroyed partly by lightning and partly by the conflagration it had caused.

On returning to Cheribon, I found that my friend Van Deck was anxious to proceed to Batavia, and I was fortunate in being able to procure him a passage on board the Phoebe, which was going there at once.

“Well, Braithwaite, I shall never despair of your turning up safe!” exclaimed Captain Hassall, shaking my hand warmly as I stepped on the deck of the Barbara. “You saved the ship and cargo by your promptness, for had I not got your message by young Jack there I should have been captured to a certainty. Garrard, Janrin and Company have reason to be grateful to you, and I have no doubt that they will be so.”

Everybody knows that Batavia is a large Dutch town built in the tropics—that is to say, it has broad streets, with rows of trees in them, and canals in the centre of stagnant water, full of filth, and surrounded by miasma-exuding marshes. But the neighbourhood is healthy, and the merchants and officials mostly only come into the town in the daytime, and return to their country houses at night. Some seasons are worse than others, nobody knows why. Captain Cook was there on his first voyage round the world during a very bad one, and, in spite of all his care, lost a number of people. We were more fortunate, but did not escape without some sickness.

Captain Hassall had disposed of most of that portion of our cargo suited for the Batavian market, so that I soon got rid of the rest. I then made arrangements for the purchase of sugar, tea, coffee, spices, and several other commodities which I believed would sell well at Sydney, to which place we proposed to proceed, touching at a few other points perhaps on our way.

The articles had, however, first to be collected, as the army had consumed the greater portion in store at Batavia. Part of the purchase I made from a brother of my friend Van Deck. He was on the point of sailing in a brig he owned along the coast to collect produce, and invited me to accompany him. I gladly accepted his offer, as the Barbara could not sail till his return.

In those days, as well, indeed, as from the memory of man, these seas swarmed with pirates, many of whom had their headquarters on the coast of Borneo. Among them was a chief, or rajah, named Raga, notorious for the boldness and success of his undertakings. We, however, believed that with so many British men-of-war about he would seek some more distant field for his operations. The harbour was full of native craft of all sorts. Of the native prahus alone there are many varieties, some built after European models, and carrying sails similar to those of our English luggers. Others are of native construction, with lateen sails; and many, built with high stems and sterns, have the square mat-sail, such as impels the Batavian fishing prahus. Of course, among so many craft a pirate chief could easily find spies ready to give him information of all that was going forward. However, we troubled our heads very little about the pirates.

By-the-bye, I have not said anything about the alligators of Java, which are, I believe, larger than in any other part of the world. The Government will not allow those in the harbour of Batavia to be disturbed, as they act the part of scavengers by eating up the garbage which floats on the water, and might otherwise produce a pestilence. I often passed them floating on the surface, and snapping at the morsels which came in their way, quite indifferent to the boats going to and fro close to them. Captain Beaver, of the Nisus frigate, described to me one he saw in another part of the island when on an exploring expedition. It was first discovered basking on a mud-bank, and neither he nor the officers with him would believe that it was an animal, but thought at first that it was the huge trunk of a tree. At the lowest computation it was forty feet in length. The circumference of the thickest part of the body seemed nearly that of a bullock, and this continued for about double the length. The extent of the jaws was calculated to be at least eight feet. The eyes glistened like two large emeralds, but with a lustre which nothing inanimate could express. The officers examined it through their glasses, and came to the conclusion that it was asleep, but the native guides assured them that it was not. To prove this, one of them fearlessly leaped on shore and approached the creature, when it glided into the water, creating a commotion like that produced by the launch of a small vessel.

I bade farewell to William and my friends of the Phoebe, not without some sadness at my heart. In those time of active warfare it might be we should never meet again. Of my soldier brother I got but a hurried glimpse before he embarked on an expedition which was sent to capture Sourabaya, at the other end of the island. A few words of greeting, and inquiries and remarks, a warm long grasp of hands, and we parted. Directly I stepped on board Van Deck’s brig the Theodora, the anchor was weighed, and we stood out of the harbour with a strong land breeze. The easterly monsoon which prevailed was in our teeth, so that we were only able to progress by taking advantage of the land and sea-breezes. The land breeze commenced about midnight, and as it blew directly from the shore, we were able to steer our course the greater part of the night; but after sunrise the wind always drew round to the eastward, and we were consequently forced off the shore. The anchor was then dropped till towards noon, when the sea-breeze set in. Again we weighed, and stood towards the shore, as near as possible to which we anchored, and waited for the land breeze at night.

We had thus slowly proceeded for three or four days, having called off two estates for cargo, when, as we lay at anchor, a fleet of five or six prahus was seen standing towards us with the sea-breeze, which had not yet filled our sails. Van Deck, after examining them through his glass, said that he did not at all like their appearance, and that he feared they intended us no good. On they came, still directly for us. We got up all the arms on deck and distributed them to the crew, who, to the number of thirty, promised to fight to the last. Then we weighed anchor and made sail, ready for the breeze. It came at last, but not till the prahus were close up to us. Under sail we were more likely to beat them off than at anchor. They soon swarmed round us, but their courage was damped by the sight of our muskets and guns. Of their character, however, we had not a shadow of doubt. After a short time of most painful suspense to us they lowered their sails and allowed us to sail on towards the shore. Here we anchored, as usual, to wait for the land breeze. Had there been a harbour, we would gladly have taken shelter within it, for the merchant, the elder Van Deck, said that he knew the pirates too well, and that they might still be waiting for an opportunity to attack us. There was, however, no harbour, and so we had to wait in our exposed situation, in the full belief that the pirates were still in the offing, and might any moment pounce down upon us. The Van Decks agreed that we might beat them off, but that if they should gain the upper hand they would murder every one on board the vessel. “We might abandon the vessel and so escape any risk,” observed the merchant—not in a tone as if he intended to do so. “You, at all events, Mr Braithwaite, can be landed, and you can easily get back to Batavia.” Against this proposal of course my manhood rebelled, though I had a presentiment, if I may use the expression, that we should be attacked. “No, no! I will stay by you and share your fate, whatever that may be,” I replied. Night came on, and darkness hid all distant objects from view.

We were in the handsome, well-fitted-up cabin, enjoying our evening meal, when the mate, a Javanese, put his head down the skylight and said some words in his native tongue, which made the Dutchmen start from their seats, and, seizing their pistols and swords, rush on deck. I had no difficulty, when I followed them, in interpreting what had been said. The pirate prahus were close upon us.

Chapter Sixteen.

Mutiny on board the “Barbara.”

We have learned from the sad experience of centuries that nominal Christianity, which men call religion, is utterly powerless to stop warfare; it may, in a few instances, have lessened some of its horrors, but only a few. The annals of the wars which have taken place for the last three hundred years since the world has improved in civilisation, show that nations rush into war as eagerly as ever, and that cruelties and abominations of all sorts, such as the fiercest savages cannot surpass, are committed by men who profess to be Christians. Read the accounts of the wars of the Duke of Alva and his successors in the Netherlands, the civil wars of France, the foreign wars of Napoleon, the deeds of horror done at the storming and capture of towns during the war in the Peninsula, not only by Frenchmen and Spaniards, but by the British soldiers, and indeed the accounts of all the wars in the pages of history, and we shall learn what a fearful and dreadful thing war is, and strive to assist the spread of the true principles of the Gospel as the only means of putting a stop to it.

Such thoughts as these had been occupying my mind on board the brig, on the morning of that eventful day of which I have just been speaking. Here was I, a peace-loving man, engaged in a peaceable occupation, and yet finding myself continually in the midst of fighting, and now there was every probability of my having to engage in a desperate battle, the termination of which it was impossible to foretell. As I reached the deck I could see a number of dark phantom-looking objects gliding slowly over the water towards us almost noiselessly, the only sound heard being that produced by their oars as they dipped into the water. The pirates, for such we were still certain they must be, expected, perhaps, to find us asleep. The guns were loaded and run out as before. The men stood with their muskets in their hands, and pikes and cutlasses ready for use. The strangers drew closer and closer. They still hoped, we concluded, to catch us unprepared. We, however, did not wish to begin the combat unless they gave us indubitable signs of their intentions.

The elder Van Deck, who had, I found, been a naval man, took the command, and everybody on board looked up to him. We were not left long in doubt that the strangers were pirates, and purposed to destroy us. Not, however, till they were close to us with the evident intention of boarding did our chief give the order to fire. The effect was to make them sheer off, but only for a moment. Directly afterwards they arranged themselves on our starboard bow and quarter, and commenced a fire with gingalls, matchlocks, and guns of various sorts, sending missiles of all shapes and sizes on board us. Our men kept firing away bravely, but in a short time, so rapid was the fire kept up on us, that three or four were killed and several wounded. I was standing near the brave Dutchman when a dart shot from a gun struck him, and he fell to the deck. I ran to raise him up, but he had ceased to breathe. His death soon becoming known among the crew, their fire visibly slackened. The pirates probably perceived this, and with fearful cries came dashing alongside. The Javanese are brave fellows, and though they knew that death awaited them, they drew their swords and daggers and met the enemy as they sprang upon our deck. On came the pirates in overwhelming numbers, their sharp kreeses making fearful havoc among our poor fellows. I saw that all was lost. I was still unwounded. Rather than fall alive into the hands of the pirates, as with the survivors of the crew I was driven across the deck, I determined to leap overboard, and endeavour to swim to land. That was not a moment for considering the distance or the dangers to be encountered. Death was certain if I remained in the ship. Unnoticed by the enemy, I threw myself overboard, and struck out in the direction, as I believed, of the shore. I was a good swimmer, but light as were my clothes, I was not aware of the impediment they would prove to me. Already I was beginning to grow tired, and to feel that I could not reach the shore. Yet life was sweet, very sweet, in prospect I prayed for strength, and resolved to struggle on as long as I could move an arm. I threw myself on my back to float. I could see the brig, at no great distance, surrounded by the prahus. All sounds of strife had ceased. Only the confused murmurs of many tongues moving at once reached my ears. Now that I had ceased for a few minutes to exert myself, two fearful ideas occurred to me: one, that I might be swimming from the land, the other, that at any moment a shark might seize me and carry me to the depths below. Had I allowed my mind to dwell on these ideas, I should speedily have lost courage, but instead I had recourse to the only means by which, under similar trials and dangers, a man can hope to be supported. I turned my thoughts upwards, and prayed earnestly for protection and deliverance.

I was striking out gently with my feet to keep myself moving through the water when my head struck something floating on the surface. I turned round, and found that it was one of the long bamboo buoys employed by the native fishermen on the coast to mark where their nets, or fish traps, are placed. They are very long and buoyant, and capable of supporting more than one man with ease. I threw my arms over the one I had found, and was grateful that I had thus found an object by means of which my life might possibly be preserved.

I looked round me; the prahus and brig were still to be seen, but after watching them for some time, they appeared to be drifting away with the faint land breeze from the spot where I lay. Thus was the danger of being seen by them at daylight lessened. Hitherto I had feared, among other things, should I be unable to swim on shore, that when the pirates discovered me in the morning they would send a boat and give me a quieting knock on the head. Still my position was a very dreadful one. Any moment a passing shark might seize hold of me; that I escaped was owing, I think, humanly speaking, to my having on dark clothes, and my having kept constantly splashing with my legs. I was afraid of resting, also, lest I should lose consciousness, and, letting go my hold of the bamboo, be swept away by the tide.

At length, when my legs became weary of moving about, I thought that I would try the effect of my voice in keeping the sharks at a distance. I first ascertained that the pirate prahus had drifted to such a distance that I was not likely to be heard by them, then I began shouting away at the top of my voice.

What was my surprise, as soon as I stopped, to hear an answer! For a moment I fancied that it must be some mockery of my imagination; then again I heard the voice say, “What, Braithwaite! is that you?”

It must be, I knew, my friend Van Deck who spoke, yet the voice sounded hollow and strange, very unlike his.

I can scarcely describe the relief I felt at discovering, in the first place that my friend had escaped, and then on finding that a civilised human being was near me. I could not tell whether he knew that his brother was killed. I did not allude to the subject. We did our best to encourage each other. We would gladly have got nearer together to talk with more ease, but were afraid of letting go our hold of the support, frail though it seemed, to which we clung. Van Deck encouraged me by the assurance that it would soon be daylight, and that at early dawn the fishermen would come off to examine the nets.

“They bear the Dutch, I am sorry to say, no good will,” he observed. “We are accused too justly of laying the produce of their industry under tribute; but they will respect you as an Englishman, and for your sake save the lives of both of us. Till I found that you had escaped I was very anxious on that score.”

As I have said, we talked continually, for silence was painful, as I could not tell when my companion’s voice was silent whether he had been drawn down suddenly by a shark, or had sunk overcome by fatigue. Even with conversation kept up in this way the time passed very slowly by. How much worse off I should have been alone! At length Van Deck exclaimed that he saw the dawn breaking in the sky. Rapidly after this objects became more and more distinct; the tall bamboo buoys, with their tufts of dry grass at the top, floating on the glassy water; then I could distinguish my companion’s head and shoulders just above the surface; and the land about two miles off, on which, however, a surf broke which would have made landing difficult, if not dangerous. The tall trees and the mountains, range above range, seemed to rise directly out of it.

Soon the fishermen’s voices, as they pulled out, singing in chorus, towards their buoys, greeted our ears. Two boats came close to us. The fishermen exhibited much surprise at finding us, but instead of at once coming up and taking us on board, they lay on their oars, and appeared to be consulting what they should do with the strangers. How the discussion might have terminated seemed doubtful, had not Van Deck told them that I was an Englishman, whose countrymen had just conquered the island; that he was my friend; and that if any harm happened to us my people would come and cut off all the people in the district, whereas if we were well treated they would be munificently rewarded. This address, which, taken in its oriental meaning, was literally true, had the desired effect; one of the boats approached me. Immediately that I was in the boat I fainted, and I believe that my friend was much in the same condition. He, however, quickly recovered, and by the promise of an increased reward induced the fishermen to return at once to the shore. I did not return to consciousness till I found myself being lifted out of the boat and placed on a litter of wicker-work. Van Deck was carried in the same way, as he was too weak to walk. We were thus conveyed to the house of a chief, who resided not far from the shore, built on the summit of a rising ground overlooking the sea.

The chief, who was every inch a gentleman, received us with the greatest hospitality, and, seeing what we most required, had us both put into clean, comfortable beds in a large airy room, where, after we had taken a few cups of hot coffee, we fell asleep, and did not awake again till the evening. Our host had then a sumptuous repast ready for us, of which by that time we were pretty well capable of partaking. Poor Van Deck was naturally very much out of spirits at the loss of his brother, but the necessity of interpreting for me kept him from dwelling on his own grief.

At the time of which I have hitherto been speaking, when I was in the east, the spot on which Singapore, with its streets of stone palaces, its superb public edifices and rich warehouses, now stands, was a sandy flat, with a few straggling huts inhabited by fishermen or pirates. I am about to give a piece of history posterior to my voyage as a supercargo. After the peace of 1814, when Java and its dependencies were given up to the Dutch, their first act was to impose restrictions on British commerce in the Archipelago. They were enabled to effect this object from the position of their settlements, those in the Straits of Malacca and Sunda commanding all the western entrances to the China and Java seas, and it therefore became evident that, without some effort to destroy their monopolies, the sale of British manufactures in the eastern islands would soon cease. Sir Stamford Raffles, who was at that time Governor of Bencoolen, represented the case so strongly to the Supreme Government at Bengal that the governor-general gave him the permission he asked to make a settlement near the north-east entrance of the Straits of Malacca. He accordingly, in the year 1819, fixed on Singapore, which stands on the south side of an island, about sixty miles in circumference, separated by a narrow strait from the Malay peninsula. Of course the establishment was opposed by the Dutch, who so strenuously remonstrated with the British Government that the latter declined having anything to do with it, and threw the whole responsibility on Sir Stamford Raffles. It was not until it had been established for three years—in the last of which the trade was already estimated at several millions of dollars—that Singapore was recognised by Great Britain.

After a rest of a couple of days, poor Van Deck and I were sufficiently recovered to commence our journey back to Batavia. He was anxious to be there that he might take charge of his late brother’s affairs—I, that I might report the loss of the brig, and make fresh arrangements for securing a cargo for Sydney. We met with no adventures worthy of note on our journey.

On our return to Batavia much sympathy was excited for my friend Van Deck among the merchants at the loss of his brother, and the naval commander-in-chief, returning soon after from Sourabaya, dispatched two frigates and a brig of war in search of the pirates. They were supposed to belong to some place on the coast of Borneo, which has for many years abounded with nests of these desperadoes. The fleet in question was supposed to belong to a famous chief, the very idol of his followers on account of the success of his expeditions. His title was the Rajah Raga, and he was brother to the Sultan Coti, a potentate of Borneo. The Raja Raga had subsequently some wonderful escapes, for he probably got due notice that an English squadron was looking after him, and took good care to keep out of their way. He was afterwards cruising with three large prahus, when he fell in with an English sloop-of-war, which he was compelled to engage. Two of his prahus, by placing themselves between him and the enemy, held her in check a sufficient time to enable him to escape, and were themselves then sent to the bottom; indeed, they must have expected no other fate.

On another occasion the rajah remained on shore, but sent his own prahu, which carried upwards of a hundred and fifty men and several large guns, on a cruise, under the command of his favourite panglima, or captain. Falling in after some time with a brig merchantman, as he supposed, and wishing to distinguish himself by her capture, he fired into her, and made preparations to board. Great was his dismay when he saw a line of ports open in the side of his expected prize, and he found himself under the guns of a British man-of-war. The panglima hailed, and with many apologies tried to make it appear that he had acted under a misapprehension, but his subterfuge was of no avail; a broadside from the man-of-war sent his vessel at once to the bottom, and he and all his crew perished, with the exception of two or three who, clinging to a piece of the wreck, were picked up by a native craft, and carried an account of the disaster to their chief.

Piracy had been the bane of these seas for years.

We were fortunate in obtaining the full amount of the goods we required without having to wait much longer at Batavia. There is an old proverb, “It is an ill wind that blows no one good.” The vessel for which they were intended had lost her master and both mates by sickness, and the merchant therefore sold them to me. We had not altogether escaped, and several of our men who were perfectly healthy when we entered the harbour fell victims to the fever engendered by the pestiferous climate. We were compelled to fill up their places with others, who afterwards gave us much trouble.

It was with sincere regret I parted from my friend Van Deck. I was glad, however, to find that he was likely to obtain employment suited to his talents under the English Government. The most direct course for New South Wales would have been through Torres Straits, but the east trade wind still blowing, compelled us to take the longer route round the south of New Holland, and through Bass’s Straits, not many years before discovered, between that vast island and the smaller one of Van Diemen’s Land. A northerly breeze at length coming on, enabled us to sight the south-west point of New Holland, and thence we sailed along the coast, occasionally seeing tall columns of smoke ascending from the wood, showing the presence of natives.

On approaching Bass’s Straits, the captain was one day expressing his regret to me that we had not time to anchor off one of the islands in it to catch seals, great numbers of which animals frequented the place in those days. He had known, he remarked, considerable sums made in that way in a very short time. Our conversation, it appeared, was overheard by one of the men we had shipped at Batavia. We had had a good deal of insubordination among the crew since we left that place, and we traced it all to that man, Miles Badham, as he called himself. He was about thirty, very plausible and insinuating in his manner, a regular sea-lawyer, a character very dangerous on board ship, and greatly disliked by most captains. He had managed to gain a considerable influence over the crew, especially the younger portion. His appearance was in his favour, and in spite of the qualities I have mentioned, I would not have supposed him capable of the acts of atrocity which were with good reason laid to his charge. Ben Stubbs, the second mate, had charge of the deck one night, and, unable to sleep, I was taking a turn with him, when Mr Gwynne, the surgeon, came up to us.

“There is something wrong going on among the people below,” he whispered. “I cannot make out what it is exactly, but if we do not look out we may possibly all have our throats cut before morning.”

“You must have been dreaming, Gwynne,” answered Stubbs; “there isn’t a man in the ship would dare do such a thing.”

“I am not certain of that,” I observed; “at all events, let us be on the right side. Forewarned, forearmed. We will let the captain know, and I trust that we may thus defeat the plot, whatever it is.”

Chapter Seventeen.

Home again!

I went down into the captain’s cabin, and, awakening him, told him what the surgeon had said.

“Mutiny!” he exclaimed, as he dressed himself with the usual rapidity of a seaman. “We will soon settle that matter.” He stuck his pistols into a belt he put on for the purpose, and took a cutlass in his hand. “Here, Braithwaite, arm yourself,” he said. “Tell the officers to do so likewise. We will soon see which of the two, that sea-lawyer or I, is to command the Barbara.”

Telling Gwynne and Toby to guard the arm-chest, and Randolph to rally round him the most trustworthy men on deck, he desired Stubbs and me to follow him forward. Without a word of warning he suddenly appeared among the men, who were supposed to be in their berths asleep. Going directly up to the berth Badham occupied, he seized hold of him and dragged him on deck, with a pistol pointed at his head, exclaiming at the same time, “Shoot any one who offers to interfere!”

The captain was very confident that he had the ringleader, and that the rest would not move without him. “Now!” he exclaimed, when he had got him on the quarterdeck. “Confess who are your accomplices, and what you intended to do! Remember, no falsehood! I shall cross-question the others. If you are obstinate, overboard you go.”

Badham, surprised by the sudden seizure, and confused, was completely cowed. In an abject tone he whined out, “Spare my life, sir, and I will tell you all.”

“Out with it then!” answered the captain. “We have no time to spare.”

“Well, sir, then I will tell you all. We didn’t intend to injure any one, that we didn’t, believe me, sir; but some of us didn’t want to go back to Sydney, so we agreed that we would just wreck the ship, and as there are plenty of seals to be got hereabouts, go sealing on our own account, and sell the oil and skins to the ships passing through the straits, and, when we should get tired of the work, go home in one of them.”

“And so, for the sake of gaining a few hundred dollars for yourself, you deliberately planned the destruction of this fine ship, and very likely of all on board. Now, understand, you will be put in irons, and if I find the slightest attempt among the crew to rescue you, up you go to the yard-arm, and the leader of the party will keep you company on the other.”

Badham, in his whining tone, acknowledged that he understood clearly what the captain said, and hoped never again to offend. On this he was led by two of the mates to one of the after store-rooms, where he could be under their sight, when irons were put on him, and he was left to his meditations, the door being locked on him. The next morning the crew went about their work as usual, Badham’s dupes or accomplices being easily distinguished by their downcast, cowed looks, and by the unusual promptness with which they obeyed all orders. The officers and I continued to wear our pistols and side-arms as a precautionary measure, though we might safely have dispensed with them.

A short time before this, in 1802, a settlement had been formed in Van Diemen’s Land, and lately Hobart Town, the capital, had been commenced. It was, however, a convict station, and no ships were allowed to land cargoes there except those which came from England direct with stores or were sent from Sydney,—in consequence of which restriction the colonists were several times nearly on the point of starvation.

The heads of Port Jackson at length hove in sight, and we entered that magnificent harbour, the entrance of which Cook saw and named. Wanting in his usual sagacity, he took it for a small boat harbour, and passed by without further exploring it. Having first brought up in Neutral Bay, that we might be reported to the governor, we proceeded some miles up to Sydney Cove, where we anchored in excellent holding ground about half-pistol-shot from the shore. Sydney had already begun to assume the appearance of a town of some consideration, and contained fully 5,000 inhabitants, though still called the camp by some of the old settlers. It is divided into two parts by a river which runs into the cove, and affords it unrivalled advantages of water communication. Several settlements in the country had already been established, among the chief of which were Paramatta and Hawkesbury. The latter settlement was about six miles long, and about forty miles from Sydney; vessels of two hundred tons could ascend by the river up it a distance of at least forty miles. The town, such as it then was, covered about a mile of ground from one end to the other, and already gave promise of becoming a place of considerable extent. A wise and active governor, Lieutenant-Colonel Lachlan Macquarie, had ruled the settlement for about a year, during which period it had made rapid progress. The previous governor was the notorious Captain Bligh, whose tyrannical conduct when in command of the Bounty produced the disastrous mutiny which took place on board that ship. The same style of conduct when governor of New South Wales, especially in his treatment of Mr John McArthur, the father, as he was called, of the settlement, induced the colonists to depose him. The officers and men of the New South Wales corps marched up to the Government House, and, after hunting for him for some time, found him concealed under a bed. His person and property were, however, carefully protected, and he was shortly afterwards put on board the Porpoise sloop-of-war, and sent off to England. The settlement, however, quickly recovered from the mismanagement of this unhappy man, and was at the time of my visit in a flourishing condition.

I was fortunate in disposing of the larger part of the cargo under my charge at good prices. Hassall and I agreed, however, that more might be done for our owners, and we proposed, therefore, visiting some of the islands in the Pacific, and either returning home the way we had come, or continuing on round Cape Horn. We had not been long in harbour before O’Carroll made his appearance on board. He had brought the ship of which he had taken charge in safety into harbour, when the emigrants presented him with so handsome a testimonial that he resolved to settle in the colony and lay it out to advantage. The governor had made him a grant of a large extent of farm land, and assigned him some twenty convict servants, land in those days being given away to free settlers, and labour of the nature I have described found them gratis.

“Altogether I am in a fair way of some day becoming a rich man,” he observed, “the which I should never have been had I continued ploughing the salt ocean. Besides,” he added, with a twinkle in his eye, “how do I know, if I did, that I should not some day fall into the clutches of that fearful little monster La Roche? and if I did, I know that he would not spare me. Do you know that even to this day I cannot altogether get over my old feelings, and often congratulate myself as I ride through the bush that I am far out of his reach.”

O’Carroll kept to his resolution, and became a very successful and wealthy settler. I frequently received letters from him after my return home. In one of them he told me that he had had a surprise. The governor asked him one day, as he could speak French, whether he would like to have some French convicts assigned to him. He had no objection, as he thought that he could manage them easily. What was his astonishment, when the party arrived at the farm, to recognise among them, in a little wizened-looking old man, his once dreaded enemy La Roche! He determined to try and melt the man’s stony heart by kindness. At first he was almost hopeless in the matter, but he succeeded at last. La Roche confessed that he had placed himself within the power of the British laws in consequence of a visit he paid to England after the war, for the purpose of carrying out a speculation which ended unfortunately. It was satisfactory to hear that he lived to become a changed man, truly repenting of his misspent life, and thankful that he had been spared to repent.

I have not spoken of the would-be mutineer, Badham. It must be remembered that he had committed no overt act of mutiny, and though Captain Hassall was perfectly right in putting him in irons, he could not have been brought to trial on shore. The day before we reached Sydney he pleaded so hard to be forgiven, and so vehemently promised amendment in all respects, that the captain resolved to give him a trial. It must be confessed that he was not altogether disinterested in this, as it would have been impossible to get fresh hands at Sydney, the temptation to settle in the country having by that time become very great, so that it was with difficulty we could keep several of our people who had come from England.

Once more we were at sea. We touched at Norfolk Island, to which convicts from New South Wales were sent. It seemed a pity that so fertile a spot, so perfect a little paradise, should be given up for such a purpose. We obtained here a supply of vegetables and pork, which were not to be got at that time at any price at Sydney. After a rapid voyage from this lovely little island we anchored in Matavai Bay, in the island of Otaheite. It was at an interesting time of the history of the island and its king, Otoo, who since the death of his father had taken the name of Pomarre. For many years the band of zealous missionaries who had come out in the ship Duff had laboured on among the people, but though they taught the king, the young prince Otoo, and some of their people, to read and write, they confessed that they had not made one satisfactory convert. In 1808 the greater number of the missionaries retired from Otaheite to the island of Huahine, and the following year all the married ones left that island for New South Wales, in consequence of the wars in which the king was constantly engaged, the destruction of all their property, the risk they ran of losing their lives, and the seeming hopelessness of introducing Christianity among such a people. After an absence of between two and three years, several of them, having wished to make a fresh attempt to carry out the work, sailed from Sydney for Tahiti, but stopped at the neighbouring island of Kimeo, where the king was residing, as Tahiti was still in a state of rebellion. They taught the people as before, and now some began to listen to them gladly. They still seemed to have considered the king as a hopeless heathen; but misfortune had humbled him, he felt his own nothingness and sinfulness, and the utter inability of the faith of his fathers to give him relief. After the missionaries had lived in the island about a year, the king came to them and offered himself as a candidate for baptism, declaring that it was his fixed determination to worship Jehovah, the true God, and expressing his desire to be further instructed in the principles of religion. The king proved his sincerity, and ever after remained a true and earnest Christian. He still resided at Kimeo, but a considerable number of people in Tahiti had by this time been converted, and the old heathen gods were falling into disrepute.

So devastating had been the character of the late wars in Tahiti, that we found it impossible to obtain supplies, and we therefore sailed for Ulitea, the largest of the Georgian group, where we were informed that we should probably be more successful. No sooner had we dropped anchor within the coral bed which surrounds the island than the king and queen came off to pay us a visit. They were very polite, but not disinterested, as their object was to collect as many gifts as we were disposed to bestow. This island was the chief seat of the idolatry of the Society Islands. It was looked upon as a sacred isle by the inhabitants of the other islands of the group, and more idols existed and more human sacrifices were offered up there than in all the others. We were so completely deceived by the plausible manners of the king and queen and those who accompanied them, that the captain and I, the surgeon, and two of the mates, went on shore to visit them in return, accompanied by several of the crew, leaving the ship in charge of Mr Randolph, the first mate. We fortunately carried our arms, though deeming it an unnecessary measure of precaution. The king had an entertainment ready for us, and afterwards we were allowed to roam about the island wherever we pleased. I observed the people at length pressing round us, and not liking their looks, advised Captain Hassall to order our men to keep together, and to be prepared for an attack. Whether or not they saw that we were suspicious of them we could not tell, but from this time their conduct changed, and they would only allow us to proceed in the direction they chose. At length, however, we got down to the landing-place. As we approached the boats we saw a band of armed natives making for them. We rushed down to the beach, and reaching the boats just before they did, we jumped in and shoved off. These savages, though savage as ever, were also more formidable enemies than formerly, as many of them had firearms, and all had sharp daggers or swords.

On reaching the ship we found that Badham and his associates had, soon after we left, seized a boat, and, in spite of all Mr Randolph could say or do, had taken all their clothes and other property with them, and gone on shore. Although by this conduct Badham showed that he could no longer be trusted, and therefore that we were well rid of him, it was important that we should get back the other men, and we agreed to go on shore the next morning to recover them. Accordingly, the chief mate and I went on shore as we proposed, with eight well-armed men, and demanded an interview with the king. He did not come himself, but sent his prime minister, who agreed, for six hatchets and a piece of cloth, to deliver them up. We waited for some hours, but the deserters were not forthcoming, and at last the minister and another chief appeared, and declared that as the men were likely to fight for their liberty, it would be necessary that we should lend them our arms.

“Very likely, indeed, gentlemen,” answered Mr Randolph, at once detecting the palpable trick to get us into their power.

“I say, Braithwaite, what say you to seizing these fellows and carrying them on board as hostages? It could easily be done.”

“Cook lost his life in making a similar attempt, and we might lose ours,” I answered. “I would rather lose the men than run any such risk.”

In vain we endeavoured by diplomacy to recover the men, and at last we returned on board, the minister losing the hatchets and piece of cloth. A feeling of anxiety prevented me from turning in, and I walked the deck for some time with Benjie Stubbs, the officer of the watch. At length I went below and threw myself on my bed, all standing, as sailors say when they keep their clothes on. I had scarcely dropped asleep when I was awoke by hearing Stubbs order the lead to be hove. I was on deck in a moment, followed by the captain and the other officers.

“We are on shore to a certainty,” exclaimed Stubbs, in an agitated tone.

“Impossible!” observed the captain, “the anchors are holding.”

“We’ll haul in on the cables and see, sir,” answered Stubbs, calling some of the crew to his assistance. The cables immediately came on board. They had been cut through. Still there was a perceptible motion of the ship towards the shore. Another anchor with an iron stock was immediately cleared away, but some time was lost in stocking it, and before it could be let go we felt the ship strike against a coral reef with considerable force. Happily there was no wind, or she would speedily have gone to pieces. At last we carried the anchors out, and hauled her off but not without unusual difficulty. Suddenly the captain jumped into a boat and pulled round the ship.

“I thought so!” he exclaimed; “the villains have fastened a rope to her rudder, and were towing us on the rocks.” He cut the rope as he spoke, and with comparative ease we got the ship out of her perilous position. Still she was so near the high cliffs which almost surrounded us that we might be seriously annoyed, not only by musketry but by stones and darts. It was evident, also, that should a breeze set in from the sea, the single anchor would not hold, and that we must be driven back again on the coral rocks.

We were not left long in doubt as to the intention of the savages and the deserters, their instigators. Suddenly fearful shouts burst from the cliffs above us, and we were assailed by a fire of musketry and by darts and stones hurled on our deck. To return it would have been useless, for we could not see our enemies. Meantime we kept the men under cover as much as possible, and got another anchor stocked and ready to carry out ahead. The savages must have seen the boat, for as soon as she was clear of the ship they opened fire on her, and it was not without difficulty that the anchor was carried out to the required distance, and the crew of the boat hurriedly returned on board.

Owing to Badham’s machinations, some of the crew had at first been disaffected, but a common danger now united them, as they saw full well the treatment they might expect should the savages get possession of the ship. Besides the ship’s guns we had four swivels, thirty muskets, and several blunderbusses and braces of pistols. These were all loaded and placed ready for use, with a number of boarding-pikes, for we thought that at any moment the savages would come off in their canoes and attempt to board us. The whole night long they kept us on the alert, howling and shrieking in the most fearful manner. Soon after day broke their numbers increased, and as they could now take aim with their firearms our danger became greater. Fortunately they were very bad marksmen, or they would have picked us all off. Strange as it may seem, no one was hit, though our rigging and boats received much damage. After the crew had breakfasted we sent two boats out ahead to tow off the ship, but the bullets and other missiles flew so thickly about them that they returned, the men declaring that the work was too dangerous. However, Benjie Stubbs, jumping into one of the boats, persuaded them to go again, while we opened a fire from the deck of the ship. As soon as the savages saw us ready to fire, they dodged behind the rocks, so that none of them were wounded. Still we hoped that by this means the boats would be allowed to tow ahead without molestation. We were mistaken, for the savages shifted their ground, and once more drove the boats on board. We clearly distinguished Badham and the rest of the deserters among the savages, and several times they were seen to fire at us. Happily they also were wretched shots, and their muskets thoroughly bad also. That they should venture to fire showed that they had no doubt of getting us into their power, for should we escape and inform against them, they would run a great chance of being captured and hanged. Later in the day, Jack and I again made attempts to tow out the ship from her perilous position.

The savages all the day continued howling and shrieking and working themselves into what seemed an ungovernable fury, while they were, however, biding their time, knowing that probably a strong sea-breeze would soon spring up and cast the ship helpless into their power. Thus another night closed on us. Ere long great was our joy to feel a light air blowing off the shore. The pawls of the windlass were muffled, and not a word was spoken. The anchors were lifted, the topsails were suddenly let drop, and slowly we glided off from the land. The weather becoming very thick and dark, we were compelled again to anchor, lest we might have run on one of the many reefs surrounding the island. Here we remained on our guard till daylight, when we could see the natives dancing and gesticulating with rage at finding that we had escaped them. The favourable breeze continuing, we were soon able to get far out of their reach, I for one deeply thankful that we had not only escaped without loss ourselves, but without killing any of the unhappy savages. The treatment we received was such as at that time might have been expected from the inhabitants of nearly all the islands of the Pacific, including those of New Zealand, and numberless were the instances of ships’ companies and boats’ crews cut off by them.

A very few years after our visit, this same island was brought under missionary influence, the idols were overthrown, heathenism and all its abominable practices disappeared, and the inhabitants became a thoroughly well-ordered, God-fearing, and law-obeying Christian community. The same account may be given of the larger number of the islands which stud the wide Pacific, and ships may now sail from north to south, and east to west, without the slightest danger from the inhabitants of by far the greater portion of them.

But it is time that I should bring my narrative to a conclusion. This adventure at Ulitea was amongst my last. Finding that our trading expedition to the Pacific Islands was not likely to prove of advantage to our owners, Captain Hassall and I resolved to proceed home at once round Cape Horn.

We happily accomplished our voyage without accident and without any further occurrence worthy of note. Our path was no longer beset by hostile cruisers, for there was a lull in the affairs of Europe. After the many excitements of the past few months, the days seemed long and tedious as I had never known them before; and it was with a sense of relief, as well as of real pleasure, that I again saw in the early morning light the shores of old England looming clear in the distance. I need not dwell on all the happy circumstances of my return, or on the special satisfaction with which I looked again on one familiar face. Suffice it to say that I had the gratification of receiving the commendation of my kind friend Mr Janrin for the way in which I had carried out his instructions and performed my duties as Supercargo; and that this voyage prepared the way for more substantial proofs of his favour.

W.H.G. Kingston

"Janet McLaren"

Chapter One.

Donald Morrison, whose wife has lately been called away, dying in his Highland Manse, his Children left destitute, are taken care of by their old nurse.—She conveys them to a sea-side town, where she takes up her abode with them in a small attic, and labours for their maintenance, while she places the two boys, Donald and David, at school.—Her anxiety about the education of Margaret.

In his Highland manse, far away among the hills, where he had dwelt as pastor for many years over a wayward flock, Donald Morrison lay on a sick-bed. The same fever which had carried off his dear wife a few weeks before, had now stricken him down. He knew that he was dying. As far as he himself was concerned he was willing to yield up his spirit to his Maker; but what would become of his motherless children, his sweet young Margaret, and his two boys, Donald and David, their principles unformed, and ignorant of the evils of the world?

“Father in heaven protect them,” he ejaculated. “Give me faith to know that Thou wilt take care of them, teach them and guide them in their course through life.” But he felt that his mind was clouded, his spirit was cast down, the disease was making rapid progress. It was hard to think, hard even to pray, gloomy ideas, and doubts, and fears, such as assail even true Christians, crowded on his mind. He forgot—it was but for a time—the sincere faith which had animated him through life. The victory was not to be with the Evil One.

Soon there came hope, and joy, and confidence. “All will be well with the righteous, those who put on Christ’s righteousness,” he mentally exclaimed, and peace came back to his soul.

As he gazed out through the window he could see, down away on the wild hill side, his children at play, their young spirits too buoyant to be long suppressed by the recollection of their late bereavement, and unconscious that they were soon to be deprived of their remaining parent. His eye for a moment rested on the familiar landscape, the blue waters of the loch glittering in the sunshine, a bleak moorland sprinkled here and there with white-fleeced sheep stretching away on one side, and on the other a valley, down which flowed, with ceaseless murmurings, a rapid stream, a steep hill covered with gorse and heather, the summit crowned with a wood of dark pines rising beyond it. Just above the manse could be seen the kirk, which, with a few cottages, composed the village; while scattered far around were the huts in which the larger part of the pastor’s flock abode. As he gazed forth on the scene he prayed—he knew it might be for the last time—that his successor might be more honoured than he feared he had been in bringing home those wandering sheep to the true fold.

Once more his thoughts turned to his little ones. “Janet,” he whispered, as a woman of middle age, of spare form, with strongly marked features, betokening firmness and good sense, and clothed in the humblest style of attire, glided noiselessly into the room. “I feel that I am going.” He lifted up his pale and shrivelled hand, and pointed to his children. “What is to become of them, it is hard to leave them destitute, utterly destitute, not a friend in the world from whom they may claim assistance.”

“Dinna talk so, minister,” said the woman, approaching him, and placing his arm beneath the bed-clothes. “Ye yoursel have often told us to put faith in God, that He is the Father of the fatherless, and the husband of the widow. The dear bairns will nay want while He looks after them. I hanna dwelt forty years or more with the mistress that’s gone, and her sainted mother before her, to desert those she has left behind, while I ha’ finger to work with, and eyes to see. I’ll never forget either to impress on their minds all the lessons you have taught me. It would have been little worth ganging to kirk if I had not remembered them too. I am a poor weak body mysel, it will not be me but He who watches over us will do it, let that comfort you, minister. The bairns will never be so badly off as ye are thinking, now that fever has made body and soul weak, but the soul will soon recover, and ye will rejoice with joy unspeakable. I repeat but your ain words, minister, and I ken they are true.”

“Ye are right, Janet. My soul is reviving,” whispered the dying man. “Call in the bairns. I would have them round me once more. The end is near.”

Janet knew that her master spoke too truly; though it grieved her loving heart to put a stop to the play of the happy young creatures, and to bring them to a scene of sorrow and death. “But it maun be,” she said to herself, as she went to the door of the manse. “He who kens all things kens what is best, and the minister is ganging away from his toils and troubles here to that happy home up there, where he will meet the dear mistress, and, better still, be with Him who loved him, and shed His blood to redeem him, as he himsel has often and often told us from the pulpit.”

She went some way down the hill, unwilling to utter her usual shrill call to the young ones. “Ye maun come in now, bairns,” she said, in a gentle tone; when the children came running up on seeing her beckoning. “The minister is sair ill, and ye’ll be good and quiet, and listen to what he says to you, he is ganging awa on a long long journey, and ye’ll promise to do what he’ll tell you till ye are called to the same place he’ll reach ere lang.”

Something in her tone struck Margaret, who took her hand, and looking up into her face burst into tears. She already knew what death was. Donald, the eldest boy, had lingered a short distance behind.

David, seeing Margaret’s tears, with a startled, anxious look, took Janet’s other hand. “Is father ganging to heaven?” he asked, as they got close to the house, showing how his mind had been occupied as they came along.

“I am sure of it, and it is a happy, happy place,” was the answer. “Ye’ll speak gently, Donald,” she said, turning round to the eldest boy, who, ignorant of his father’s state, might not, she feared, restrain his exuberant spirits.

There was no need of the caution, for the minister’s altered look struck even Donald with awe. Janet led the children up to the bedside. The dying father stretched out his hands, and placed them on their heads, as they clustered up to him, while his already dim eyes turned a fond glance at their young fresh faces. “You will listen to Janet when I am away, and pray God to help you to meet me in heaven. Make His word your guide, and you cannot mistake the road.”

“I will try to mind that, and tell Donald and David, too,” was all that Margaret could answer.

“Canna ye stay longer with us, father?” asked Donald, touching the minister’s hand, as he was wont to do when speaking to him.

“He we should all obey has called me,” said Mr Morrison. “May He bless you, and guard and keep you. Bless you! bless you!” His voice was becoming fainter and fainter, and so he died, with his hands on his children’s heads, his loving eyes on their cherub faces.

“Blessed are they who die in the Lord,” said Janet, as she observed the smile which seemed to rest on the minister’s features. Taking the children, scarcely yet conscious of what had occurred, she led them from the room, and then stepped back to close the eyes of the dead.

Having put the sobbing orphans to bed, she hastened out to obtain the assistance of a neighbour in preparing the body for burial. She insisted on paying the woman for the office she had performed, remarking, as she did so, “I have the charge of the manse and the bairns till the minister’s friends come to take them awa’, and they would na’ wish to be beholden to any one, or to leave any of his lawful debts unpaid.” In the same way she took upon herself the arrangement and expense of the funeral. She sold the goods and chattels, as her master had directed her to do, for the benefit of his children; but they were old and worn, and the purchasers were few and poor, so that the proceeds placed but a very limited sum in Janet’s hands for the maintenance of the little ones. As she received them she observed, “It’s as muckle as I could ha’ hoped for; but yet those who had benefited by his ministrations might have shown their gratitude by geeing a trifle above the value for the chattels.” Human nature is much the same in an Highland glen as it is in other parts of the world.

The day arrived when Janet and her charges must quit the manse. She had sent up to Jock McIntyre, the carrier, to call for the kist which contained her’s and the children’s clothing, as he passed down the glen. The most weighty article was the minister’s Bible, with which, although it might have brought more than anything else, she would not part. She had reserved also a few other books for the children’s instruction.

Taking Margaret and David by the hand, Donald leading the way with a bundle of small valuables over his shoulder, she set forth from the house which had sheltered her for many long years, into the cold world. Margaret’s eyes were filled with tears, and David cast many a longing glance behind him, while Donald, with his bundle, trudged steadily on with his gaze ahead, as if he was eager to overtake something in the distance. Whatever thoughts were passing in his mind he did not make them known.

Janet’s head was bent slightly forward, her countenance calm, almost stern. A difficult task was before her, and she meant, with God’s grace, to perform it. She had not told the children where she was going, though she had made up her own mind on the subject. Several of the cottagers came out to bid them farewell; but as she had made cronies of none of them, there was little exhibition of feeling, and she had taken good care that no one should be aware of the destitute condition in which the orphans were left. Humble presents and offers of assistance would undoubtedly have been made, but Janet shrunk from the feeling that her charges should be commiserated by those among whom their parents had lived, and she returned but brief thanks to the farewells offered her. She would far rather have been left to pursue her way without interruption. “Fare-ye-weel, neighbours, just tack Miss Margaret’s, and the laddies, and my ain thanks, but we canna delay, for Jock will be spearing for us, and we ha’ a lang journey to make before nightfall,” she said, bending her head towards one and the other as she wended her way among them down the hill side.

Janet had a horror of cities and towns, having been bred and lived all her life in the Highlands, with the exception of a brief visit she once paid, with Mrs Morrison’s mother, to beautiful —, on the east coast. It being the only town with which she was acquainted, she had made up her mind to go there.

She had heard also that there was a school in the place, and to that school Donald and David must forthwith be sent. Without learning, she was well aware, she could not expect them to get on in the world as she wished. With regard to Margaret, the consideration of how she was to be brought up in a way befitting a young lady, caused her more anxiety than anything else. She might, indeed, teach her many useful things, but she was herself incompetent, she felt, to train the little damsel’s manners, or to give her instruction from books. Still, “where there’s a will there’s a way,” she said to herself, “and I ha’ a tongue in my head, and that tongue I can wag whene’er it can do the bairns good.”

The journey was a long one, and though honest Jock charged but little for their conveyance, a large hole was made in Janet’s means before they arrived at the end of it.

The gaunt grave woman, with her three fresh blooming children, caused some curiosity, as she went about looking for lodgings. A single upper room was all she could venture to engage. Here she took up her quarters with her young charges, and thanking her merciful Father who had brought her thus far in safety, she felt like a hen which had safely gathered her brood under her wings. She furnished her abode with two truckle-beds, one for the boys, the other for Margaret and herself. She procured also a small table and four three-legged stools, a similar number of mugs and plates, and a few other inexpensive articles.

That same evening, determined not to lose a moment of time, with well used spinning-wheel set up, she began to spin away as if she had been long settled, while the children played around her, glad once more to find themselves alone, and free from the gaze of strangers. She waited till they were asleep, and then set to work, to manufacture out of the minister’s best suit some fresh garments for the boys, such as she considered befitting their condition. Her busy needle was going the greater part of the night, still she was up betimes, and again at work. She, however, allowed the children to sleep on as long as they would. “They will weary up here in this sma’ room, the poor bairns, instead of running about on their aine free heathery hills, and I must na’ spare the time to take them out on the links just now till their clays are ready, and I can send them to school.”

One of those admirable institutions in Scotland for the education of all classes enabled Janet to carry out her project without difficulty. Mr and Mrs Morrison had carefully taught their children, and the two boys were well advanced for their age. The master of the school, on hearing who they were, at once received the orphans, and promised, as far as he could, to befriend them. “If you will be obedient boys, and try and say your lessons well, you will get on,” he observed.

Donald looked him full in the face, and at once said he would try, and he always meant what he said. David made no answer, but clung to Janet’s gown, as if unwilling to be left behind among so many strange people.

“Ye will be back in the afternoon, and we will be spearing for you, bairns,” she said. “They are precious, sir, very precious,” she added, turning to the master. “If they are shown the right way, as their father showed it them, they will walk in it; but the deil’s a cunning deceiver, and ever ganging about to get hold of young souls as weel as old ones. Ye’ll doubtless warn them, and keep them out of bad company.”

“I’ll do my best, my good woman,” answered the master, struck at Janet’s earnestness for the interests of her charges; and having bid her farewell, he led off Donald and David, while Janet, taking Margaret by the hand, returned to her lodging to resume her daily labour, well satisfied with the arrangements she had made for the education of the two boys.

Donald and David returned safe home in the evening from their first day at school. Donald was full of all he had seen and done, and was especially delighted at finding that he was superior to many boys of his own age. Having made several friends, he said he thought school a very fine place. He might have gone out to play a game of golf on the links, and he would have done so had he not promised Janet to return at once, but he hoped that she would let him go another day. David had not been behind hand with his brother in his class, but he had not been so happy, and the boys had asked him questions to which he had been unable to frame replies, without betraying the truth, which Janet had especially charged them not to do.

“They wanted to ken all about us,” exclaimed Donald, “and I told them that they must just mind their ain business; my home might be a castle in the Highlands some day, and whatever it might now be, I was contented with it.”

“A very proper answer,” exclaimed Janet, smiling for the first time for many a long day. “Ye maunna be ashamed of your home, or those in it, laddie; just gang on doing your duty, but dinna mind what young or old, or rich or poor, think of ye.”

“But I said nothing, I would na answer them,” said David, sobbing.

“Ye did weel, too, laddie,” observed Janet. “The wise man knows where his strength lies, the weakest may thus come off the conqueror.”

She had now to make arrangements for Margaret’s education. This was more difficult than for that of the boys. She could not trust her sweet, gentle, blue-eyed maid among girls who might be rough or unmannerly, and yet she could not possibly afford to send her to one of the upper class of schools. Margaret already read much better than she did, for her own attainments extended no further than a limited amount of reading and writing. The few books, besides the Bible, she had brought away from the minister’s library, were mostly on theological subjects, somewhat, she felt sure, beyond Margaret’s comprehension. She lived on dry crusts for many a day to sanction her extravagance in purchasing several books, one after the other, suited to the little maiden’s taste. Margaret was delighted to receive them, and while Janet sat and span she read them aloud to her, and amply rewarded was the kind nurse for her self-denial. Not dreaming that Margaret could possibly educate herself, she still continued turning in her mind how that desirable object should be accomplished.

“Dinna ye think that if we ask God He will show us the way,” said Margaret, one day, looking up into the face of her nurse, who had made some remark on the subject.

“We will do as ye propose, my sweet bairn,” answered Janet. “He is sure to hear us,” and, accordingly, when the chapter from the Bible had been read, which Janet never omitted doing, she, with her young flock around her, knelt in prayer, as had been the custom at the manse, and she did not fail to ask for guidance and direction in the matter which had so sorely perplexed her mind.

Chapter Two.

The boys obtain prizes.—Janet declines receiving visits from Alec Galbraith, or any of their school-mates.—Margaret’s illness.—Is ordered fresh air and sea-bathing.—Carried off by a wave, and saved by Alec Galbraith.—Margaret and her brothers are introduced to his mother.

It gave joy to the loving heart of Janet, when one day her two bairns came home, each with a prize under his arm.

“But mine is only the second in my form; David got the first prize in his,” said Donald, as they exhibited their books to the eager eyes of their nurse and sister.

“Weel, they are bonny—they are bonny,” exclaimed Janet, as still mechanically spinning away, she bent over the books which Margaret, with sisterly eagerness, was examining.

“I thought I should have had the first, but another fellow ran me hard and gained it,” said Donald.

“Who was he?” asked Margaret, looking up, inclined to quarrel with the boy who had deprived her brother of the honour which she thought ought to have been his.

“A very fine fellow—one Alec Galbraith—he beat me fairly; and there’s as much in him as any boy at school.” Margaret felt that she had been too hasty in her conclusions. “I intended to bring him here for you to see, Margaret,” continued Donald. “Though he lives in a fine house, and has a father and mother, and several big brothers away in foreign parts, I am not going to let him suppose that I am ashamed of my home. He has often asked me, and I am determined to be able to say, ‘That’s where I live, and now what do you think of me?’”

“Nay, nay, my bairn, dinna ye bring him here,” exclaimed Janet. She thought she knew more of the world than her young charge, and scarcely comprehended his independent spirit, though her own in reality was very similar. “He will just be laughing at you afterwards, and tell others that ye live in an attic with a poor old woman.”

“He had better not,” exclaimed Donald, in an angry tone. “But I ken he will na do ony sic thing—he is an honest fellow, and if he likes me it is for what I am, and not for where I live.”

“Dinna ask Galbraith to come here,” put in David. “Though he may be the same to you, he may be letting out to others, and maybe they will ne’er he so kind in their remarks, and will be asking to come here themselves.”

This last observation of David’s decided Janet. “We will ne’er have Alec Galbraith, nor any other of your school-mates, coming here, Donald, so just tell them that Janet McLaren does not wish to receive visitors,” she exclaimed, in a more authoritative tone than she usually employed. Donald promised to act as she desired, and Alec Galbraith continued to be known only by name to her and Margaret.

Although the two boys, in consequence of the active life they led going to and from school, and playing on the open links, retained their health, Margaret, unaccustomed to the confinement to which she was subjected, began to grow thin and pale. Her cheeks lost their bloom, her spirit, and the joyous elasticity of her step, were gone. Janet at length perceived the change in the sweet child, and saw that something must be done for her. She took her to a doctor, who advised fresh air, with a romp every day on the links, and sea-bathing. The remedies were cheap; but Janet could not think of allowing Margaret to go out without her, and she could not afford the time unless she took out her knitting-needles, which usually employed her fingers when her spinning-wheel was laid aside.

The next morning the old Highland woman was to be seen pacing the links, knitting as she walked, while Margaret, delighted with her newly gained freedom, went bounding away before her, only wishing that she had her brothers to share her happiness. When they came home in the evening she easily persuaded Janet to go out again; and as the three children set off together, they felt as they had not since they left their Highland home. Still, as the doctor had prescribed bathing, Janet, who had paid for the advice, considered that it would be throwing away the siller if it was not carried out.

The maidens, of high and low degree, in that unpretending little town, both then and long after, were accustomed to enjoy the salt water in a primitive fashion. Neither tents nor bathing machines were thought of. Each matron stood ready with a large sheet, under which her charge put on her bathing-dress, and then ran off to frolic amid the waves, resuming her wonted garments in the same way, after her bath. Margaret, till now, had never seen the ocean. It inspired no fear—only delight and pleasure—and she hurried into the water like a sea nymph, enjoying its bracing freshness. For many successive mornings she went down, in company with several other girls of various ages, to bathe and sport with glee in the bright waters of a little bay, sheltered on either side by high rocks from the gaze of passers by.

One morning the sea, though still bright, came rolling in with greater force than usual, dashing the sparkling spray high up against the dark rocks. Several of the other girls exclaimed that they should enjoy a delightful bath, and Janet, unaware of the treacherous character of the ocean, did not hesitate to allow Margaret to join them. Now a wave came rolling in, sweeping in a snowy sheet of foam high up the beach, now it receded with a murmuring sound over the rounded pebbles. The girls, taking each other’s hands, ventured in as far as they were accustomed to go, waiting till they saw a wave approaching, when they hurried back again up the beach, where they could escape its force. Margaret, as the last comer, was the outer one of the line. Not comprehending the necessity of caution, she let go her companion’s hand at the moment the rest of the party were making their escape from the coming sea. In an instant she felt herself lifted off her feet; she endeavoured to spring forward, but the wave had her in its grasp, and, as with a loud roar it receded, she was carried away towards the entrance of the bay.

For the first moment Janet did not perceive the danger of her darling. “Oh my bairn! my bairn!” she shrieked out, when she discovered what had occurred, and throwing down the sheet she rushed into the water vainly attempting to reach her. Several of the elder girls, horror-stricken, held her back, scarcely conscious of what they were doing. Louder and louder she raised her imploring cries for help, as she endeavoured to break loose from the agitated group surrounding her.

Margaret continued floating on the surface; but was every instant being borne further away towards the white-topped waves which rose outside the bay. At that instant a lad was seen to run along the top of the rocks till he neared the end, when, without a moment’s hesitation, he sprung off into the water, and swam boldly towards the little girl. She had not from the first struggled, and she lay perfectly quiet, while he grasped her dress with one hand and struck out with the other towards the beach. The danger of both was great. Now they appeared to have made good progress, and now the sea carried them out again towards the mouth of the bay; but the lad still swam on with undaunted courage towards the eager arms which were stretched out to assist him in landing. At length he succeeded in getting near enough to allow Janet to grasp her charge, and once having her in her arms, she bore her away up the beach to a warm nook under the rocks, while the lad, his task accomplished, made good his footing, and then, without waiting to receive the congratulations of the girls, and the thanks which Janet would have poured out, hurried off towards his home to change his wet clothing.

Margaret, who had fainted, quickly returned to consciousness; and from the remarks she made while Janet was putting on her dry clothing, she seemed scarcely aware of what had occurred, nor till the other girls, who had speedily dressed, gathered round her, did she understand the danger in which she had been placed.

“Who is he? Can ony o’ ye tell me the brave laddie’s name? that I may thank him and love him for saving my bairn,” asked Janet. Some of the girls gave one name, some another.

“Na, na, he is neither o’ them,” exclaimed one of the elder girls. “He is young Alec Galbraith, whose father and mother live in the big house over the links there. He gangs to the school, and my brothers ken him weel.”

Taking her bairn in her arms, Janet hastened homewards. The boys had already started for school, ignorant of the danger to which their sister had been exposed. Janet placed her on the bed, and now, for the first time, giving way to her feelings, burst into tears. “I’ll ne’er again trust you to that treacherous sea, my own sweet bairn,” she exclaimed, bending over her. “If it had taken you away, I could na have lived to come home and see the poor boys breaking their hearts, and they would have had no one left to care for them. But our God is kind and merciful, and we maun lift up our hearts to Him in praise and thanksgiving.”

“I will try to do so, dear Janet, though I feel that I cannot be grateful enough to Him,” said Margaret, in a faint voice, and comprehending perhaps now far more than before, from the unusual agitation of her nurse, the fearful peril through which she had been preserved. “And, Janet,” she added, in a whisper, “I should like to thank, with my whole heart, the brave boy who swam out to me and brought me safely on shore. I remember seeing him running along the rocks and coming towards me, and then I felt sure I was safe.”

“Yes, we will thank him. If I had to live a hundred years, I would thank him to the end of my days,” exclaimed Janet. “But his parents are rich people, and a poor body like me can give him ne’er more than empty thanks.”

“But if they come from the bottom of our hearts he’ll prize them,” observed Margaret. “And do ye ken who he is?”

“Ay, that I do—he is Donald’s class-mate, no other than Alec Galbraith, your brother is always talking about.”

“Oh, I am so glad,” exclaimed Margaret. “I can believe all Donald says of him. I must go with you and thank him too, and I will never more be jealous though he keeps at the head of the class, and Donald is only second. He must be as brave as he is clever, or he would not have risked his life to save that of a poor little stranger girl like me, and then to have gone away without even stopping to be thanked.”

Janet guessed that young Galbraith was not likely at that time to be found at his house, and indeed Margaret was not fit to go out again at present. She therefore waited till the boys came home in the evening from school. They had heard nothing of what had occurred. All they knew was, that Alec Galbraith had come later than usual to school, that the master had received his excuse’s, and that he had performed his tasks with even more than his ordinary ability. They listened with panting breath to the account Janet gave of the occurrence.

“Bless him,” cried Donald, “I will never again try to take him down. I would rather he had done it than any other fellow in the school.”

“I will give him all my prizes, and pray for him as long as I live,” exclaimed David.

Janet thought Margaret sufficiently recovered in the evening to venture out. “We must go with you,” exclaimed Donald. “I want to take Galbraith by the hand, and tell him all I feel.”

The party set off—Janet, as usual, taking her knitting as she quitted her wheel, from which her active fingers had been spinning yarn even while the conversation above described had been going on. Margaret was rather pale, and somewhat weak, but her sturdy brothers supported her on either side. Though she was eager to thank Alec Galbraith, she felt somewhat timid at the thoughts of encountering him and his parents.

“I know Alec well enough to be sure that he will make light of the matter,” observed Donald. “He will tell you that he ran no danger, and enjoyed the swim. But that must not make us less grateful to him. I do not know what sort of people his parents are—perhaps high and mighty, and may be angry with you for placing their son in danger. However, I don’t care what they say; nothing shall make any difference in my feelings towards Alec.”

“Nor in mine either,” whispered Margaret.

“Nor in mine,” said David. “I only wish that I had more to offer him, not that I can ever pay him, but just to show my love and gratitude.”

Would that people were as grateful to God for the benefits daily received, and above all, to Jesus, for the great salvation He has wrought for us, as these young people were to the brave boy who had risked his life to save that of little Margaret.

The above conversation took place as they approached the handsome residence of Mr Galbraith. Alec had seen them. He ran out to meet his friends. “I am so glad you have come, Donald. My mother wants to know you—for I have often told her about you, and how hard you pressed me in the class. And is this little girl your sister? Why!” and he looked up from Margaret to Janet, and blushed, as if he had done something to be ashamed of. “I do believe that I had the pleasure of towing you on shore this morning; but don’t talk about it—it was no trouble at all, and I have often wetted these old clothes through and through before.”

“Oh, but I maun talk about it,” exclaimed Janet, grasping his hands, and pouring out her thanks with all the impetuosity which her grateful feelings prompted.

“I knew that was what you would say, Alec,” exclaimed Donald. “But we know better about the danger and trouble. You might have been carried away by the sea, for I am very sure you would never have let go of Maggie while you had life.”

Margaret tried to say something, but she could never exactly remember what words she uttered.

“If there was any danger, I am sure I did not think about it,” said Alec. “And I am very glad, for your sakes that we got safe to shore. But now come in and see my mother, for I have often told her that as you would not lot me go to pay you a visit, we must get you to come here.”

Mrs Galbraith, a very amiable and gentle looking woman, received her visitors with the greatest kindness, and tried at once to make Janet at home. The old nurse expressed to her the gratitude she felt to her young son for the service he had rendered.

“It is indeed a happiness to me to find that my boy has behaved rightly and bravely,” answered the lady. “It would have been a sad thing if the life of that sweet little girl had been lost, and I can only rejoice that my dear boy was the means of preserving it. I should like to become better acquainted with her, and you will, I hope, allow her and her brothers to remain here. I’ll send them home at night, or perhaps you would like to come for them.”

“I’ll come for them, mem, and am grateful to you for your kindness,” said Janet, who dreaded any one visiting her humble abode, while, at the same time her heart beat with satisfaction at the hope that at length her dear little Margaret might obtain a friend who would give her that assistance in her education which she herself was unable to afford.

Leaving the children with their new friends, she cheerfully went to her solitary home to sit and spin, and think over what might be their future fate in life; and as she span many were the schemes she drew out in her imagination of their destiny. The boys would do well she was sure, though they might have a hard tussle with the world. Donald would do battle bravely with any foes he might have to encounter, and David would not be behind hand, although he might meet them in a more quiet manner. Maybe he will wish to follow in the steps of his father, and become a minister of the gospel, she thought. Weel, weel, its a true saying, that “Man proposes, and God disposes.” If we trust in Him all will be for the best.

Chapter Three.

Mrs Galbraith promises to befriend Margaret.—Alec’s first visit to Janet’s attic.—Her schemes for clothing and supporting the boys.—Assisted by a kind banker and others.—The boys make good progress at school.—Janet’s humble faith rewarded.

The children had a great deal to tell of all they had seen at Mistress Galbraith’s when Janet came to take them home.

“She is, indeed, a very kind lady,” said Margaret. “She told me that once she had a little daughter just like me, but God had taken her to Himself, and asked me if I would like to come and see her very often; but I said that I couldna leave you, Janet, all alone, when the boys were at school, with no one to talk to you.”

“I can talk to myself, Margaret, ye ken,” answered Janet. “I would na hae ye say nae to the good lady, for I like her looks and her way of speaking, and she may be a true friend to ye. And if she asks you again ye will just say ye will do what she pleases, and that ye are obliged to her. And what do you think of the big house and the great people?” she asked, turning to Donald.

“It’s all very braw and fine; but I would rather hae a house of my ain, and you in it, Janet,” answered Donald.

“May be you will get that, laddie, some day.”

“I hope I may; and then I’ll ask Alec to come and stay with me, since you will na let him come here,” said Donald.

“I could na deny him onything—so, if he wishes to come, he must come,” said Janet.

“Then I will tell him,” said Donald, “and I am sure he will not carry tales to the other boys.”

The next morning Alec found out the house on his road to school, and made his way up to Janet’s attic. He tapped gently at the door. Donald went out to meet him.

“I told you we did not live in a fine house, and so you see,” he observed, pointing round the room. “But I am sure you do not think the worse of us, or our good nurse. We should have been starving if it was not for her—that’s what I have got to tell you.”

“No, indeed, I do not think the worse of you or her,” answered Alec. “If I thought it would vex you I would not have come; and I promise you that I will not say a word to others which you would not wish me to say. But my mother desired me to call and invite your sister Margaret to spend the day with her, if Mistress Janet will give her leave.”

“She will go, and gladly, as soon as the boys are off to school,” said Janet, answering at once for Margaret.

“Come along then,” exclaimed Alec to his companions. “My mother is longing to see Miss Margaret again, and we will not delay her.”

As soon as the boys were away Janet set off with her charge. Mrs Galbraith received her with the greatest kindness, and would have had Janet to stay with her also.

“Thank ye, Mistress Galbraith,” answered Janet. “But I ha’ my household affairs to attend to, and they will na get on very weel unless I am present.”

From that day forward Janet escorted Margaret to the house of her new friend every morning at the same hour.

Janet greatly missed her young companion, but she sat on in her solitude rejoicing in the thought that Margaret was gaining the instruction she so much desired her to obtain. As she span and span she turned in her mind various plans for supporting the children and for ultimately establishing them in life.

“Their claithes will soon be worn out. Donald is already too big for his, and though they may do for David for a few months longer, with patching and mending, I would na’ like to ha’ the poor boys pointed out by their school-mates as young gaberlunzies; and the siller I get for the yarn will only just pay the rent and find porridge for the bairns,” she thought to herself. “The Bible says that it is the duty of Christians to support the fatherless and widows. I would na’ beg for mysel’ while I ha’ got fingers to spin wee, but I maun nay let my pride stand in the way o’ the bairns. They maun be clothed and fed, so I need find out those who ha’ got the means, and gi’e them the privilege of helping the young orphans. The good lady, Mistress Galbraith, will look after Margaret, I ha’ little fear o’ that, but I canna let her ha’ the charge of the boys.”

Janet having made up her mind to act never lost time in setting about it. As yet she was unacquainted with the names of any of the people in the place, with the exception of Margaret’s new friend. This knowledge she had to gain; but, as she said to herself, “wi’ a tongue in her mouth, and lugs to listen wee, that was na’ a difficult matter.”

She first visited the few shops at which she dealt, and getting into conversation with the masters or mistresses, quickly gleaned from them some of the desired information. Having, with much acuteness, made up her mind as to those most likely to respond to her appeal, she went forth the next morning, having deposited Margaret with Mrs Galbraith, to commence the series of visits she proposed making.

The first was to Mr McTavish, the banker, an elder in the church, and a man much respected, she heard. He listened to her tale with his keen eyes fixed on her countenance. “You speak the truth,” he said at length, putting his hand in his pocket and drawing out his purse.

“Na, na, sir, I dinna want the siller,” said Janet. “If you ha’ a mind, sir, to gie a jacket or a pair of breeks to the minister’s son, or ony other article of dress ye think fit, I’ll be grateful, but I dinna come to beg. It must be a free gift on your part. I dinna want any man’s siller.”

The banker, somewhat amused at the good woman’s reply, promised to supply Donald with a new suit; and writing an order to his clothier, desired her to present it, and obtain what she wanted. Highly delighted with her success she took Donald in the evening to be measured for a suit, having first begged the master not to allow the boy to know how it was obtained.

“Its not that I would na’ wish him to be thankful, but it would be bad for him to feel that he is supported by charity. And I will pray for blessings on the head of the good gentleman, and the day may come when he is able to show that he is sensible of his kindness,” she observed.

The worthy clothier appreciated her motives. “You have another bairn, I understand, to look after,” he observed. “When he is in want of a suit let me know, and I will try what I can do for him.”

Janet thanked him for his kindness, and promised not to forget his offer.

She was not always so successful as in these first instances. Some people refused to believe her story, or declared that they had already more people looking to them for assistance than they could support; others again gave full credit to her tale, and admiring her faithfulness and honesty, were glad of an opportunity of helping the destitute orphans of whom she had nobly taken charge. Frequently she brought home a supply of food, but not a particle of it would she touch herself. “It was given for the fatherless bairns, and they alone have the right to it,” she would say, contenting herself with a bowl of brose, the usual coarse fare on which she subsisted.

The sale of her yarn enabled her to pay her rent, and to find food for herself, and a portion for the children. Her own rough garments appeared never to wear out, while the roof of a neighbouring house below the window of her attic afforded her a drying ground on washing days. Money she would never receive; but as the history of the orphans became known, she was amply supplied with clothing for them of all descriptions.

Donald and David continued to make excellent progress at school, obtaining the approbation of all their masters, and gaining, in addition to Alec Galbraith, several friends among their school-mates.

“Your boys, if they continue as they have began, are sure to do well, Mrs McLaren,” said the head-master, when she went to pay their school fees.

“Weel, sir, I am sure too o’ that, for the prayers of the minister and my dear mistress could na’ have been offered in vain, and though I am but an humble woman, it is the chief thing I ask o’ God, and I ken He will na’ refuse my request.”

Margaret went daily to Mrs Galbraith, but that lady did not offer to take her entirely under her charge. She had her reasons for this; her own health was failing, and she felt that should she be taken away, and the young girl be again thrown back on Janet’s hands she would feel the change more than if she continued to reside with her kind nurse. Although she had never visited Janet, she guessed the limited accommodation her attic must afford, and had, therefore, engaged, giving Janet the money to pay the rent, another small chamber on the same floor, which was devoted to the use of the two boys. Janet gladly accepted the offer. She felt that as the children were growing up such an arrangement was absolutely necessary for their comfort, though it might have been beyond her means to supply it.

When the days shortened the two boys might have been seen in their little room, seated on their three-legged stools, with a table, manufactured by themselves, between them, their heads bent down close together over their books, to obtain as much light as the farthing candle, placed in the most advantageous position, could afford. When the cold of winter came on they were compelled to seek Janet’s fire-side, where she would sit silent as a mouse, watching them with fond eyes, as they conned their tasks, while Margaret, on the other side, actively plied her needle, either making her own clothes, or performing some work for her kind patroness. Margaret had lost the bloom of childhood, and though her features were not sufficiently regular to allow her to be considered decidedly pretty, she had grown into an interesting girl, with an amiable expression of countenance—a faithful index of her mind. Donald had become a strong active fine looking lad, with features which betokened firmness and decision of character, while David, though not so robust as his brother, was handsomer, and a stranger, seeing the two together, would at once have pronounced him possessed of more mildness and gentleness than his elder brother, and less able to buffet with the rude world.

Chapter Four.

Donald having received an offer from Mr Todd of an appointment in Canada, accepts it, and prepares for his departure.—Mrs Galbraith’s unhappiness about her son’s religious principles.—Alec receiving an appointment in Canada, sails without returning home, to his mother’s and Margaret’s grief.—Donald also leaves home for his destination.

Janet and David were the sole occupants of the attic. The lad was seated at his little table with his hooks and papers before him, Janet looking on wondering at the strange figures he rapidly formed as he worked away at his mathematical studies. The weather was still cold, and she had pressed him to keep her company, and enjoy the warmth of her fire, which the early season rendered necessary. Not a word had she uttered lest it might interrupt him, when, as she drew forth the thread from her wheel, which had been idle but a few hours out of the twenty-four, Sabbath days excepted, since her arrival at her present abode, David looked up and inquired how many yards she could spin in a minute.

“I ne’er thought anent it,” she answered. “But why do ye ask, my bairn?”

“Because I wish to calculate how many times the yarn you have spun since we came here would encircle the globe,” answered David.

“Oh, but to be sure a puir body like o’ me could na’ do sic a thing as that,” she exclaimed, rather aghast at the very idea of such a performance. David, however, marking the yarn with his pen, bade her spin away while he counted sixty.

He was engaged in his calculations when a quick eager step was heard on the stair, and Donald, his countenance glowing with health and animation, entered the room.

“Janet, I have had an offer, a magnificent offer,” he exclaimed, breathless from some other cause beyond the mere effort of mounting the stairs. “I would consult no one, and would tell no one till I had seen you. I was playing at golf on the links, when, rushing along, I ran right against a gentleman who was standing watching the game. I stopped to beg his pardon, when, looking up in his face, I was sure he was Mr Todd, he who was grieve o’ the laird of Glenvarlock, and used to come often to the manse and ha’ a crack with our father. Many is the time he has carried me in front of him on his horse, and lent me a pony to ride. I asked him—I was right—I told him my name, and that I was at the High School here, and Margaret and David and I were living with you. He shook me warmly by the hand, and said he was very glad to meet with me, inquiring what I thought of doing, and many other questions. He then begged, as soon as the game was over, that I would accompany him to his lodgings. ‘I have been thinking of something for you, Donald,’ he said, when I rejoined him. ‘I am preparing to start, as soon as the spring commences, at the head of a party of emigrants to settle on a large tract of land in Upper Canada, and I want the assistance of one or two active young men, with heads on their shoulders, who have their way to make in the world. I have been out there for two years, and know the wants of the country. Active surveyors are especially required, and I can assure you that you will be able to obtain a sufficient knowledge of surveying, for all practical purposes, before we start. All your expenses will be paid, and you will receive a small salary to commence with. Say that you will accompany me, and I will not look elsewhere for an assistant.’ I told him I could not say yes till I had asked you, Janet, and talked to Margaret and David. I do not like to leave you all, but you see I may make my fortune, and have a home for you all to come to some day; and if I stay in Scotland it may be long before I can obtain a situation, and longer still before I can have a house of my own.”

Janet remained silent for some minutes, gazing fondly at Donald, revolving the matter in her mind, with her lips apart as if the announcement had taken away her breath. David, with his pen still on the paper, looked up eagerly at his brother, participating in his feelings. A sigh which burst from Janet’s bosom broke the silence.

“Ye maun go my bairn, as it seems to me that the Lord in His goodness points out the way. We will ask Him to guide and direct us. Ye should not go forth into the world without feeling sure that ye are under His protection, and that He will gie ye, my bairn, if ye ask Him with faith.”

“I know He will, and may be it was He who sent Mr Todd on to the links this afternoon to meet with me,” answered Donald, who, in his eagerness, was perfectly ready to agree with Janet.

“He orders the steps aright of all who serve Him,” observed Janet.

“Janet speaks the truth,” said David firmly. “I wish that I could go with you.”

“Na! na! my bairn, you are not old eno’ or hardy eno’ to bear the rough life which Donald will ha’ to lead in that strange country,” exclaimed Janet, who was not prepared to lose both of her boys at once. “And oh, it is that terrible sea you will ha’ to cross which troubles me to think of. Is there no other way of getting there?”

“I should be sorry if there was, for I have often longed to sail over the ocean, and I look forward to the voyage with delight,” answered Donald. “You must not think of the danger. Nothing worth having is to be gained without that, in my opinion, and we shall be having you safe on the other side of the ocean before long, I hope, Janet.”

“Na, na, my bairn, you maun come back to me, but that terrible ocean I could ne’er cross.”

Donald no longer pressed that matter, and was content with the full permission Janet gave him to accept Mr Todd’s offer, provided Margaret, on her return home, did not object. The young lady soon arrived, and, to Janet’s surprise, entered at once warmly into Donald’s projects.

That evening, as the family knelt down in prayer, Janet earnestly lifted up her voice in a petition that her bairn might be directed aright, and protected amid the dangers to which he would be exposed.

The next day, before returning to Mr Todd, Donald consulted his kind master, who advised him to accept the offer, and put him in the way of obtaining the instruction he required.

Janet, who had never allowed her charge to discover the means she employed for obtaining their support, told him to set his mind at rest about his outfit, which it had naturally occurred to him he should have a difficulty in obtaining. She at once went to Mr McTavish, who had continued her firm friend. “An excellent opening for the lad,” he answered. “I should be glad to help him, and let him come and shake me by the hand before he starts.”

Margaret, who besides obtaining many other female accomplishments from Mrs Galbraith, had learned to use her needle, had ample employment in manufacturing various articles of dress from the cloth Janet from time to time brought home with her. Mrs Galbraith, knowing how she was occupied, begged her to return home each day at an early hour that she might assist Janet, assuring her that she could readily spare her services. How eagerly Janet and Margaret sat and stitched away, allowing themselves but a short time for meals. They were determined to save expense, by making all Donald’s underclothing themselves. Mr McTavish had desired Janet to let him order what outer clothing he required at the tailors, with a promise that he would see to the payment.

Donald meantime attended assiduously to his studies to prepare himself for the work he was expected to perform, so that he was longer absent from home than usual every day. His studies were congenial to his taste, and he entered into them with the more zeal that they were preparing him for the real work of life in which he had so long wished to engage.

David was always studious; and now that he had less of Donald’s society, who was apt, when he could, to entice him out to join in the sports in which he himself delighted, he had more time than ever to attend to his books. Janet’s great wish was that he should enter the ministry, but she had not yet broached the subject to him. Observing, however, his habits, she had little doubt that he would willingly agree to her proposal whenever she might make it.

“Surely the minister would like to have one of his bairns to follow in his footsteps,” she said to herself, “and though it may cost more siller to prepare him for the work, I pray that what is needful may be supplied, and my old fingers will na’ fail me for many a year to come.”

The time was approaching for Donald to take his departure. Margaret would have preferred consequently, as she had lately done, remaining with Janet, but her kind friend, Mrs Galbraith, was ill, and much required her services. Had Alec been at home, it is possible that she might not have thought it wise to have had so attractive a girl constantly with her, but Alec had been now for upwards of a year absent.

He had obtained, through his father’s interest, a good situation in a mercantile house in London, and had latterly passed several months in Germany, where he had been sent on business with one of the partners of the firm. He frequently wrote home, giving a full account of himself and his proceedings, as well as of the thoughts which occupied his mind. Of late Mrs Galbraith had not been so well satisfied as formerly with the tenor of his letters. His mind, she was afraid, had become tinctured with that German philosophy which is so sadly opposed to all true spiritual religion. Mr Galbraith, who was inclined to admire his son’s sayings and doings, told her not to fash herself on the subject, and that he had no doubt Alec would remain faithful to the kirk, though at his age it was but natural, mixing in the world, that he should indulge in a few fancies not in accordance with her notions. The answer did not satisfy the wise and affectionate mother.

“Such fancies ruin souls,” she observed. “While indulging in them he may be called hence without faith and hope, what then must his fate be?”

She wrote an earnest letter to Alec. The reply was in his usual affectionate style; but the part touching the matter she considered of most importance, was as utterly beyond her comprehension as she suspected it was beyond that of the writer, lucid as he apparently considered it. The replies to several letters she wrote in succession, left matters much as they were at first, and she could only pray and look forward to his return, when she trusted that her tender exhortations would produce a beneficial effect upon his mind.

“When he comes I must part with dear Margaret,” she said to herself. “It will not do to have the two together. Alec may possibly attempt to impress his opinions on her mind, and may unsettle it should he fail to do more permanent injury; or, even should he keep them to himself, her sweet disposition, and other attractive qualities, may win his heart, while she may give her’s in return, and I am sure that his father would never consent to his marrying a penniless orphan, and blame me for throwing them together.”

These thoughts, however, she kept within her own breast. Once entertained, they caused her much anxiety. While, on the one hand, she earnestly wished to have Alec home that she might speak to him personally; on the other, as her eyes fell on Margaret’s sweet face, she feared the effect that face might have on her son. She must let her remain with Janet, that was settled; but Alec was sure to find his way to Janet’s humble abode, as he had been accustomed to do when a boy to visit his schoolfellows, and he was very likely to suspect the cause of Margaret’s absence from his mother’s house.

Had she been able to look into the hearts of the young people, Mrs Galbraith would have had considerable cause for anxiety on the score of their meeting. Alec had had for many a day what might have been considered a boyish fancy for Margaret, while she regarded him as a brave, generous youth, who had saved her life, and her brother’s best friend; and though she had never examined her own feelings, she would have acknowledged that she considered him superior to any one else in the world.

Mr Galbraith, who never having for a moment thought about the subject, had no reason for speaking cautiously, came into the room one day while Margaret was seated with his wife, and exclaimed—

“Alec writes word that he wishes if possible to come home and see us, as he has had a fine offer made him which I have advised him to accept, and which will keep him away from England for some years. He is doubtful, however, whether he will be allowed time to come home, and if not we must console ourselves with the thoughts of his bright prospects. I should have been glad if you could have had a glimpse of him, but I purpose myself going up to London to see him off.”

“Oh, do try and get him to come home, if only for a few days,” exclaimed Mrs Galbraith. “I could not bear the thoughts of his going away without seeing him. But you have not said where he is going?”

“I will tell him to come if he can,” said Mr Galbraith, “he is not, however, going to a distant country, but merely to Canada, where he is to assist in forming a branch of the firm, either at Montreal or Toronto, as the partners are anxious to commence without delay. I consider the appointment a feather in the cap of so young a man.”

Margaret listened eagerly to all that was said. She was very certain that Alec was fitted for any post which might be assigned to him. She trusted, however, he would find time to get home and see them.

“Donald and he will meet to a certainty; how delightful for both of them, and we shall hear from each how the other is getting on, and they will be of mutual assistance. Perhaps they will go out in the same ship,” she thought.

Both Mrs Galbraith and Margaret were to be disappointed. A letter was received from Alec two days later, saying that the vessel which was to convey Mr Elliott, the principal of the firm, and himself, was to sail immediately, and that no time could be allowed him to run down to Scotland. Mrs Galbraith greatly felt this announcement, but this was not the chief cause of her sorrow. She had long felt her health failing, and knowing that her days were numbered, she feared that she should never again see her son. All she could do was to commend him to the protecting care of Heaven, and to pray, from the very depths of her soul, that even though it might be through trials and troubles, he might be brought to accept the truth as it is in Christ Jesus, and have a living faith in His all-sufficient sacrifice. Would that all mothers prayed thus for their absent sons exposed to the wiles of Satan and the snares and temptations of the world. Such prayers would assuredly be heard; how many wandering sheep would be brought into the fold of Christ?

Margaret felt very sad when she heard that Alec was not coming, but she kept her feelings to her own bosom. She had to return home to assist Janet in completing Donald’s outfit. She and her old nurse worked harder than ever, there still seemed so much to be done, and Mr Todd had sent Donald word that he must hold himself in readiness to start at a short notice. The expected order came.

“Fare-ye-weel my bairn, fare-ye-weel, ne’er forget that the deil, like a roaring lion, is ganging about to seek whom he may devour, and put your trust in Him who is able and willing to save you out of all your troubles. They maun come; dinna fancy all is sunshine in the world, but He will be your shield and buckler in time of danger if you love and serve Him.”

Janet, as she spoke, threw her arms round Donald’s neck, and big tears dropped from her eyes. Margaret clung to him, and kissed his cheek again and again, till he had to tear himself away; when accompanied by David, he went on board the vessel which was to convey him to Leith, whence he was to proceed on to London. David remained with him till the last, and then returned to Janet’s humble abode to apply himself to his books.

Chapter Five.

Donald’s voyage to Canada.—He gains the friendship of Mr Skinner.—Reaches Quebec.—Voyage up the St Lawrence.—Arrival at the new township.—Description of the settlement.—Mr Skinner preaches the gospel, and takes up his residence in the place.

Donald found himself in a new world on board the fine emigrant ship, which was conveying him and nearly three hundred settlers to Canada. They were of every rank, calling, and character, but one object seemed to animate them all—an eager desire to establish themselves and obtain wealth in the new country to which they were bound. Some talked loudly of the honour and glory of subduing the wilderness, and creating an inheritance for their children; though among them Donald observed many whom he was sure would never do either the one or the other.

Though frank and open-hearted, influenced by the usual caution of a Scotchman, Donald did not feel disposed to form friendships with any of his fellow-passengers until he had ascertained their characters. His time, indeed, was fully occupied in pursuing the professional studies he had commenced at home, and in doing work for Mr Todd. There was one person on board, however, who excited his interest. He was a man of middle age, and of mild and quiet manners, while the expression of his eyes and mouth betokened firmness and determination. Donald could hear nothing about him except that his name was Skinner, and that he was not connected with any of the parties of settlers on board. His conversation showed an enlightened mind, but he seemed at first rather inclined to obtain information than to impart it. Perhaps he also wished to gain an insight into the characters of his companions before he allowed of any intimacy. Wherever he was, however he would allow of no light or frivolous conversation, and he did not hesitate to rebuke those who gave utterance to any profane or coarse expressions. Donald had heard him spoken of as an over religious man. That he was a strict one he had evidence, when one day, while several fellow-voyagers were indulging in unseemly conversation, Mr Skinner approached them.

“Will you allow me to ask you a question, and I trust you will not be offended, are you Christians?” he asked.

“Of course, Mr Skinner, of course we are,” answered two or three of the party, in the same breath.

“Then you will desire to follow the example of the Master whose name you bear,” he replied. “And He has said, ‘Be ye holy for I am holy.’ ‘By their fruits shall ye know them.’ Now the fruits of the lips which you have been producing are directly opposed to His commands. Can you suppose that He who hears all you utter will be otherwise than grieved and offended with the words you have just been speaking? Out of the mouth the heart speaketh. Let me entreat you to examine your hearts, and judge what is within them, and then ask yourselves whether they have been changed. Whether ‘you are holy as God is holy,’ whether you are real or only nominal Christians. You are voyaging together to a country where you expect to prosper—to secure an independence, and to enjoy happiness and contentment for the remainder of your lives; but, my friends, would you not act wisely to look beyond all this? As our voyage in this ship must come to an end, so must our voyage through life, and what then? Again I repeat, that though by nature depraved, prone to evil, full of sin, with hearts desperately wicked, God says to all who desire to enter the kingdom of heaven, to become heirs of eternal life, to be prepared to go and dwell with Him, to enjoy eternal happiness instead of eternal misery, ‘Be ye holy as I am holy.’ You will ask me, how can that be? I reply, take God at His word. He would not tell us to be what we cannot be. He does not mock us with His commands. He has said, ‘Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved.’ But He does not mean that your belief is to be merely affirmative; it is not sufficient only to acknowledge that Christ lived and died on the cross. All Scripture shows that you must have a living active faith in the complete and finished work of Christ. You must look to Him as your Saviour; you must know that His blood was shed for you individually, and acknowledge His great love for you, which brought Him down from the glories of heaven to suffer on the cross, and that love must create a love in your hearts, and make you desirous of imitating Him and serving Him. You must turn from your sins and strive to hate sin, and in this you will have the all-sufficient aid of His Holy Spirit. Thus, though as I have said, in yourselves unrighteous, sinful, impure and doing things that you would not, yet, washed in the blood of Jesus, God no longer looks on your iniquities. He blots your sins out of remembrance. He puts them away as far as the east is from the west He imputes Christ’s righteousness to you. He clothes you in Christ’s pure and spotless garments. He declares you to be ‘holy as He is holy.’”

Some of the young men he addressed hung down their heads, and others tried to make their escape, but two or three fixed their eyes earnestly on the speaker, whose manner was so kind and gentle that none could be offended, however little they might have been disposed to agree with the doctrine he enunciated. Among the latter was Donald Morrison. He had heard many excellent sermons; he had listened respectfully to the religious instruction which Janet, according to the light within her, attempted to give him, but he had seldom heard the truth so plainly and earnestly put before him, or at all events he had never so clearly comprehended it.

Finding several of the party inclined to listen, Mr Skinner continued his address, urging his hearers at once to accept the merciful offers of salvation so freely made. As is generally the case where the gospel is preached, some were inclined to side with the preacher, while others were stirred by the natural depravity of the human heart, instigated by Satan to more determined opposition.

Donald was induced from what he heard to examine his own heart. He had not before been aware that it was depraved by nature and prone to evil; that it must be renewed before he could love and truly serve Christ. He had been trusting to his own good principles, to his desire to do right; and he had been prepared to go forward and fight the battle of life, relying on his own strength. Happy are those who make the important discovery he did before the strife commences, before temptation comes in their way, or an overthrow, often a fatal one, is certain. Donald had believed that by living morally and honestly, and by labouring hard, he should merit admission to that heaven where Christ would reign as king; but he had never truly comprehended the necessity of the atonement—that sins must remain registered against the sinner unless washed away by the blood of Jesus, and that His blood can alone be applied through the simple faith of the sinner.

From that day forward Donald sought every opportunity of conversing with Mr Skinner, who was never weary of answering his questions and solving his doubts. Mr Todd expressed some fears that his young friend would become so engrossed with religious subjects, that he would neglect his professional duties, and yet Mr Todd held religion in great respect, and believed that he made the Bible his guide in life.

“I am very sure, my dear sir, that no man who truly loves and obeys the Saviour will, in consequence, become a worse citizen, or be less attentive to his worldly duties,” answered Mr Skinner, to whom the remark was made. “And I trust you will find Donald Morrison no exception to the rule.”

Donald spent a portion of each day with Mr Skinner, sometimes reading with him, at others walking the deck, as the ship glided smoothly over the ocean.

Their passage was somewhat long, for calms prevailed, but it was prosperous, and at length the emigrant ship entered the waters of the magnificent St Lawrence, and finally came to an anchor before the renowned city of Quebec, which looked down smiling on the voyagers from its rocky heights.

There was eager hurry and bustle on board, for the emigrants were anxious to land, while on shore a general activity prevailed, as it was the busy time of the year, when merchantmen, long barred by the ice which bound up the river during winter, were daily arriving, and the huge timber ships were receiving their cargoes of logs, brought down through innumerable streams and lakes which intersect the country, hundreds of miles from the far-off interior.

The emigrants now separated, some to go to the eastern townships or other parts of the Lower Province, but the greater number to proceed up the St Lawrence, and across Lake Ontario to the magnificent district then being opened up, bounded west and south by Lakes Ontario, St Clare, and Erie.

Donald found, to his satisfaction, that Mr Skinner was going in the same direction. Donald knew no more than at first who Mr Skinner was; he was satisfied, however, that he was a true man, with a single eye to God’s service.

“I may possibly settle among you,” said his new friend. “Wherever human beings are collected together, there I find my work.”

“Are you a minister then?” asked Donald.

“Are not all Christ’s faithful servants His ministers?” asked Mr Skinner, “called on by Him to make known His great love to perishing sinners; to tell them the only way by which they can be saved? In that sense I reply yes to your question. My young friend I desire not to eat the bread of idleness, nor to take aught from other men’s hands.”

Donald felt that he ought not to press his question further.

The party ascended the river in a sailing vessel to Montreal, and from thence Kingston was reached by stage waggons, which conveyed them along the banks of the river where the navigation was impeded by rapids, though the greater part of the journey was performed in large boats up the St Lawrence and through the beautiful lake of the “Thousand Islands.”

“I wish Margaret and David could have a sight of this lovely scenery,” said Donald to his friend, as they glided by numberless islets in succession, covered with rich and varied foliage.

“Their steps may some day be directed hither,” answered Mr Skinner, who was even a warmer admirer of the beauties of nature than his young companion.

At Kingston they embarked on board a large schooner. Next morning, when Donald came on deck, his surprise was great to find the vessel out of sight of land. The water was perfectly smooth; a thin mist hung over it, which probably concealed the nearer northern shore, for as the sun rose, he could distinguish in that direction a long low line of coast, fringed with the trees of the primeval forest. Here and there, as they sailed along, small openings could be perceived, where settlements had lately been formed, and the giants of the forest had fallen beneath the woodman’s axe.

The voyage terminated at Toronto, till lately called Little York, on the western shore of the lake, but a long journey had yet to be performed across the peninsula to the district Mr Todd had undertaken to settle. Waggons and drays were put in requisition to convey the party and their goods through the forest, while the leader and his staff, with other gentlemen, rode on ahead to prepare for their reception. Donald wondered how vehicles with wheels could make their way amid the stumps of trees, along the track which then formed the only road to the settlement. Here and there were swamps, which were made passable by huge trunks of trees laid across the track, and bridges of timber, of a primitive, though of a strong character, had already been thrown across the streams.

“You see pioneers have been before us,” observed Mr Todd to Donald. “Settlers direct from the old country would have been appalled with the difficulties the well-trained backwoodsmen have overcome.”

Here and there were small clearings, in the centre of which log-houses had been put up, to serve as wayside inns. At one of these Mr Todd and his party halted as evening closed in. The accommodation was scanty, though an ample meal of eggs and bacon and corn cakes, was served on a long table which stood in the middle of the public room. Upon it, beneath, and on the benches at the sides, the guests, wrapped in their cloaks, with their saddles for pillow’s, passed the night. Donald, before lying down, went out to take a turn in front of the hut. As he looked along the cutting towards the west, a bright glare met his eyes. It at once struck him that the forest must be on fire, and he was hastening back to warn his companions, when he met Mr Skinner.

“There is no danger,” observed the latter. “We will proceed along the road, and you will see the cause.”

The light from the fire enabled them to find their way among the stumps, and they soon saw before them an opening in the forest, in the centre of which blazed a huge pile of vast trunks of trees, surrounded by men, who, with long pitchforks, were throwing faggots under the trunks to assist in consuming them.

“Although these trees would be worth many pounds by the water-edge, here they are valueless and in the way, and no other mode has been discovered of disposing of them,” observed Mr Skinner to Donald. “Yet I always regret to see the destruction of those magnificent productions with which God has clothed the earth, but thousands and tens of thousands of those monarchs of the forest are destined ere long to fall to make way for the habitation of man. Yet one living soul is of more value than them all, and we may hope that many a voice may be raised to Him in hymns of praise amid this region, hitherto a wilderness, and which has resounded only with the howl of the savage wolf, or the fierce war songs of the long benighted inhabitants of the land.”

A busy scene presented itself as the cavalcade at length reached the new settlement. Here and there, amid the stumps of trees, were scattered tents, shanties, and log-huts, either finished or in the course of erection. Women were cooking over fires in front of their rude dwellings, while their children played around. Oxen, urged on by the cries of their drivers, were dragging up huge logs to form the walls of the huts. Drays were conveying sawn timber from the banks of the broad stream which flowed by on one side—a saw-mill, turned by its water, being already busily at work. A little way off, the tall trees were falling with loud crashes before the woodmen’s axes, engaged in enlarging the borders of the settlement. While here and there arose edifices of greater pretensions than their neighbours, with weather-boarded sides and roofs. Several broad roads intersected the projected town at right angles, from which, however, no attempt had as yet been made to remove the stumps of the trees; while all around arose the dark wall formed by the forest, closely hemming in the clearing, with the exception of the single opening through which the travellers had made their way.

“This is a wild place, indeed,” said Donald, as he surveyed the scene.

“It was wilder a few months ago,” answered Mr Todd. “It is our task to reduce it into order, and ere long we shall see handsome houses, gaily painted cottages, blooming orchards, green pastures, and fields waving with rich corn, in lieu of the scene which now meets our eyes. But we have no time to lose. We must select a spot by the river for the new settlers to camp on, obtain a supply of wood for their fires, and get some shanties put up for the women and children and old people.”

Mr Todd and his attendants dismounted at the door of the chief inn. It was also a store, at which every iron article, from a plough to a needle, all sorts of haberdashery and clothing, groceries, stationery, drugs and beer, wines and spirits, could be procured, as the proprietor, who shook hands with the new arrivals, informed them.

Donald was soon actively engaged under Mr Todd in the duties of his office, and from that day forward till the close of the summer he had very few minutes he could call his own, with the exception of those granted during the blessed day of rest. He now learned to value the Sabbath more than ever, when he could rest from the toils of the week, and leave his surveying staff and chains, his axe and note-book, and turn with earnest faith to God’s Word. No chapel or church had as yet arisen, and the gospel would not have been proclaimed had not Mr Skinner invited the inhabitants to meet him beneath the shade of the lofty trees, where, with his own hands, he had cleared away the brushwood. Here he proclaimed the glad tidings of salvation by the blood of the Lamb, to many who had never before heard the glorious news. Many assembled gladly, especially the settlers from bonnie Scotland; some came from curiosity, or to pass away the time; and a few to mock at the unauthorised preacher, who, in his ordinary dress, ventured, as they asserted, to set himself up among his fellows. Provided souls were won, the stranger cared nothing for the remarks which might be made.

He had purchased a plot of ground on the banks of the stream, some way removed from the township, and here, with the aid of three or four hired labourers, he had made a clearing and erected a log-hut, at which Donald was always a welcome guest, with several others who came to hear God’s Word explained.

The winter came on, and snow covered the ground, but the axemen went on with their labours, and the tall trunks they felled could now with greater ease be dragged either to the saw-mill, to the spots where log-huts were to be erected, to form snake fencing, or to the great heaps prepared for burning. Donald was surprised to find how rapidly the months went by, and how soon the period of the year at which he had arrived in Canada had returned.

Chapter Six.

Letters from home.—Margaret loses her friend.—Unsatisfactory report of Alec.—David resolves to go out.—Donald urges his sister and Janet to come also, and prepares for their reception.—No tidings can be obtained of Alec.—David’s arrival.—Mr Skinner explains to him important gospel truths.

Donald had frequently written home, and had heard from Margaret and David in return. Every word from them was of interest to him, and all kind Janet’s sayings and doings were faithfully recorded. She seemed to work even harder than ever; but as Margaret remarked:—

“She manages to make her purchases at a cheapness that surprises me, and I often cannot account for the number of articles she brings home for the money she has to expend. Perhaps she gets more for her yarn than formerly, or has a hoard with which we are unacquainted. Mrs Galbraith is as kind as ever, and gives me a number of things which assist me greatly. Her health is, I fear, however, failing rapidly, and if she is taken away I shall lose the best friend I ever expect to have, next to Janet. She hears occasionally from Alec, who is at Montreal, which is, I suppose, a long way from you, or you would have mentioned him. Mr Galbraith has much altered; he looks grave and anxious, and is often irritable with his dear wife. I pray that she may be spared, but I am very very anxious about her.”

The next letter to this acknowledged with pleasure and gratitude the receipt of the first sum of money Donald was able to send home. Margaret wrote:—“It has made us rich beyond our most sanguine hope; but Janet seems unwilling to spend any of it, and says she does not like to deprive you of your siller; so pray do not send any more unless we really require it. Mrs Galbraith is kinder than ever, and insists on giving me everything I can possibly want, saying that I am of so much service to her that I ought to receive a salary in addition. I, of course, only do what I can to show my gratitude for her kindness to me since I was a little girl.”

Another letter came from Margaret some months after this, when Donald had been in the colony upwards of a couple of years. Her kind friend, Mrs Galbraith, had been taken away, and though she had died with the hope that Alec would be brought to know the truth, she had been for the last few months of her life so deeply anxious about his spiritual welfare, that she could not help speaking on the subject to Margaret, who had hitherto not been aware of the dangerous notions he had imbibed. Margaret expressed herself deeply grieved with what she heard, and promised to unite her prayers with those of her friend for Alec’s conversion.

A few months later Donald again heard from Margaret. Mr Galbraith had followed his wife to the grave. Her exhortations to him had not been in vain, and having accepted the truth himself, he was as anxious about his son as she had been. “I visited him frequently during his illness, as Mrs Galbraith had entreated me to do,” said Margaret, “and though he was undoubtedly most anxious about Alec’s spiritual state, he also, from what he said, seemed to fear that his worldly prospects were very different from what he had hoped. The mercantile house with which he is connected has failed, and I fear that the greater part—if not all—of Mr Galbraith’s property has been lost also, so that Alec will be left without support unless he can obtain another situation. I need not suggest to you, my dear brother, to write to your old friend, and ascertain his position, and if he requires it give him a helping hand. I must now tell you the determination to which David has come, though he will write to you himself on the subject. We were not till lately aware of the assistance we have received from dear Mrs Galbraith and other friends, from whom we have discovered our kind Janet has been in the habit of demanding whatever she considered necessary for us. I am sure that she would not have begged a sixpence for her own support. I am now thrown more completely than ever on her hands, and though I am anxious to do anything I can to maintain myself she will not hear of my leaving her. I would take a situation as a child’s governess, or as a companion to a lady, such as I have been to Mrs Galbraith, or go into service, but she insists that I must bide at home with her, as she could not trust me out of her sight, but that I am welcome to ply my needle as much as I please, and that she doubts not she shall find work for me if I follow her wishes, which David is anxious that I should do. He cannot bring himself to draw on her resources, so as to continue his studies till he can become a minister, which will not be for some years yet. He has often talked of going out to join you in Canada, and his heart is, I am sure, set on so doing. He has his doubts as to his fitness for the ministry, and says that head-learning and book-learning are not sufficient, and that he is conscious of being destitute of all other qualifications. He declares he should sink down with nervousness directly he enters a pulpit, that his voice and memory would fail him, and that he does not possess that love of souls and desire to win them to Christ, which he considers the chief qualification for the preacher of the gospel. I agreed with him when he made the last remark; but still I trust that he is mistaken about his qualifications. Nothing I have urged has had any effect in inducing him to alter his determination. Though he studies as hard as ever, he almost starves himself in his anxiety not to be a burden to Janet, he will not buy any fresh books, or spend more money than he can possibly help; indeed, I must own to you that she would have great difficulty in giving him any, though she tries to make him believe, as usual, that she has as much as he can require. I begged you before not to send us home any of your earnings; but I do not hesitate now to ask you to remit as much as will be sufficient for David’s voyage, if you approve of his going out to join you.”

“The very thing of all others I have been longing for,” exclaimed Donald, as he finished Margaret’s letter. “I have ample to enable him to come out, and I am sure Mr Todd will find employment for him. But Margaret and Janet must not remain with straitened means; I wish they would come out also. I will send home sufficient for their voyage, and use every argument to induce them to come. If they will not they must spend the money on their own support at home. Margaret will, I am sure, be perfectly happy out here, though Janet would find the country rather strange, yet neither of them would mind the rough life they would be compelled to live, any more than others do, many of whom have been far more accustomed than they are to the luxuries and refinements of the old country.”

Thus Donald meditated till he persuaded himself that in a few months he should see his sister and brother and their faithful nurse arrive to take possession of the log-hut he proposed building for them. He lost no time in writing a letter, and in arranging with Mr Todd to send home a considerable portion of the salary due to him. He insisted that Margaret should receive whatever David did not require for his passage-money and journey to the township, and should spend it on the support of Janet and herself, should they decline accompanying David. He thought it impossible that they could refuse, and forthwith set to work to build a substantial log-hut on a plot of ground which, by Mr Todd’s advice and assistance, he had purchased not far from Mr Skinner’s location.

Mr Skinner had made inquiries about his family when he heard of his hopes of being joined by his brother and sister and old nurse. He at once begged that he would apply to him for whatever he might require for their comfort and convenience.

“I am a bachelor, and as my personal expenses are trifling, I shall consider it a privilege to be allowed to be of use to those who are so well deserving of assistance,” he observed. “That old nurse of yours has excited my warm admiration. Her knowledge may be limited, but from your account she has lived a practical Christian life, and though you may justly desire to be independent, and to support yourself by your own labour, you cannot wish her and your sister to decline whatever aid God puts it into the hearts of others to offer to them.”

Donald warmly thanked his friend; and seeing the justness of his remarks, without hesitation accepted his offer. His mind was thereby greatly relieved from any anxiety he might have felt in supporting those who had become dependent upon him, till he himself should be able to gain sufficient for the purpose.

He wrote immediately to Alec Galbraith, but some time passed, and no answer was received to his letter. He then got Mr Todd to make inquiries of some acquaintances at Montreal, and through them he at last heard that after the house in which Alec had been engaged had broken up, the young man having vainly attempted to find employment in other firms, had left the place without letting anyone know in what direction he had gone. He had created many enemies by the opinions he publicly expressed on religious and political subjects, and was looked upon as a disloyal and dangerous person.

This account greatly grieved Donald, who had not supposed it possible that the fine manly and talented friend of his youth would be otherwise than liked, and succeed wherever he might go. “What can possibly have changed Alec so much?” he asked himself more than once.

Donald mentioned the subject to Mr Skinner.

“What was the foundation of his good qualities?” inquired his friend. “Were they built on the rock which, when the floods of trial and temptation came would stand firm, or on the sandy soil, whence they were sure to be washed away.”

Donald considered. “He resided in Germany for some time, and I know that his religious opinions underwent a change for the worse, and from some remarks Margaret let drop, that his mother was very anxious about him.”

“That is a sufficient explanation,” observed Mr Skinner, with a sigh. “We must pray that like the prodigal son he may find that he has husks alone to eat, and be brought back to the loving Father, who, with open arms, is ever ready to receive those who, having made that important discovery, return to Him.”

The two Christian friends knelt down and offered up their petitions that the wanderer might be found out and restored.

Few people in the settlement were more busy than Donald Morrison. Besides building his log house, at which he worked with his own hands, and superintending the clearing of the ground, he had his official duties to attend to, which he in no way neglected; and, as the settlement increased, they became more onerous than at first. “If David were with me he would find plenty to do,” he said, over and over again. “I wish that he were coming, and I have no doubt Mr Todd would obtain for him a situation under me.”

When Donald wrote home he had begged his brother and sister not to wait till they could write and announce their intended coming, but if they could persuade Janet to accompany them, to set off immediately. As each party of settlers arrived he looked out eagerly, hoping to find those so dear to him among them. He was destined frequently to be disappointed.

At last, one evening he was seated in his new house, now nearly completed, busily employed on some plans which he had taken home from Mr Todd’s office, when he was aroused by a knock at the door. On opening it he saw standing before him a tall slight young man, whom he knew by his bonnet and tartan coat to be Scotch, “Does one Donald Morrison live here?” asked the stranger, gazing eagerly at his face. The moment he spoke Donald knew the voice; it was David’s, and the brothers’ hands were clasped together.

“I should not have known you,” exclaimed David, scanning Donald’s sunburnt countenance, and sturdy strongly built figure.

“Nor I you, till I heard you speak,” answered Donald. “But have you not brought Margaret and Janet?”

“I am sorry to say no. Janet would not venture across the salt ocean, and Margaret would not quit her. Janet, indeed, did her utmost to dissuade me from coming to this land of impenetrable forests, fierce red men, savage wolves, roaring cataracts, and numberless other dangers, such as she believes it is, and her dread of exposing Margaret to them, I suspect, made her more determined to stay at home than had she herself alone been asked to come, as for our sakes I believe she would have risked all could she have been satisfied that Margaret would have been in safety. Finding all my arguments useless, I set off as you wished me.”

“She is a good faithful creature, and we must still hope to overcome her fears for our dear sister’s safety,” said Donald. “However, I am thankful you have come, and I am sure that you will not be disappointed.”

Donald lost no time in placing an abundant supply of bachelor’s fare, prepared by his own hands, on the table. As may be supposed, the brothers sat up the greater part of the night, talking over the past as well as their future prospects.

Donald was not disappointed in his hopes of obtaining employment for David, Mr Todd being glad at once, on his brother’s recommendation, to secure his services. David gave his mind to the work he had undertaken, and soon became a very efficient assistant to Donald. Though he looked pale and delicate when he first arrived, and was unable to go through the physical exertion required of him without fatigue, he rapidly gained strength, and in a short time became strong and hardy.

Shortly after his arrival Donald took him to call on Mr Skinner, who welcomed him kindly, and led him to enter freely into conversation, that he might, as Donald suspected, ascertain his opinions. Donald, when speaking of his brother, had merely stated that he declined entering the ministry, and preferred coming out to join him as a settler. Mr Skinner allowed several days to pass, during which they frequently met, before he offered any remarks to David on the choice he had made.

“You have abandoned the most important of callings, my young friend, for one which, though honourable and useful, and which may obtain to you worldly advantages, is not, in the nature of things, likely to render spiritual service to your fellow-creatures,” he observed.

“Several reasons prompted me to take the course I have pursued,” answered David. “The principle one, however, was, that I felt myself unfitted for the ministry, and had a strong desire to come out and join my brother. I had no spiritual life in myself, and could not impart it to others.”

“Certainly you could not impart to others what you did not possess yourself,” observed Mr Skinner. “But, my dear friend, are you content to remain without that spiritual life? It is required, not only for those engaged in the ministry, but for all who rightly bear the name of Christ, for all who desire to be His subjects, to enter into the kingdom of heaven. The Holy Spirit alone can impart it to you or to others, but having it, whether set apart or not for Christ’s service, you may be made the instrument by which many of your fellow-creatures may obtain it likewise. It should be the object of all Christ’s subjects to win souls for Him. When Christ spoke to Nicodemus and told him that he must be born again, He addressed a learned man, an expounder of the law of Moses. If a physician, a merchant, or person of any other calling, had come to Him He would have said the same. And now I entreat you to ask yourself the question, which Christ would have put had you gone to Him. He would have said, as He said to Nicodemus, ‘Ye must be born again.’ He would not have first inquired whether or not you were intended for the ministry. He would have said, as He does to all human beings, high and low, rich and poor, men and women, boys and girls, who desire to live with Him in heaven for ever and ever. You may be very industrious, and energetic, and honest, and moral, and well conducted in your secular calling, but that will not stand you instead of what Christ requires. The old man must be put off, the new nature be received. I repeat, ‘You must be born again.’”

“And how can that be brought about?” exclaimed Donald, much perturbed in mind.

“Christ says, ‘the wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh and whither it goeth, so is everyone that is born of the Spirit.’ Christ did not leave Nicodemus with this answer, which might well have perplexed him, as it has those who have turned aside from it as incomprehensible; but He shows how man must do his part to bring about that new birth. It is by simple faith, by taking God at His word, by looking to Christ and trusting to His blood as all-sufficient to wash away sin, to His sacrifice as being accepted in lieu of our punishment. He explains it in those most blessed words—that most perfect of all similes—‘As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but have eternal life.’ Know and feel that you are bitten by sin, dying eternally from its rank poison, and then look to Jesus as the certain, the only cure, just as the Israelites, bitten by the fiery serpents, were commanded to look at the brazen serpent, held up by Moses in the wilderness, as the only way by which they could be cured. Thus, through simple faith, is the necessary change brought about. All God demands from us is faith. He, through the Holy Spirit, does the rest. My dear young friend read that all-important portion of God’s Word with earnest prayer for enlightenment, and you will understand the simple plan of salvation, which His loving mercy has formed, far more clearly than you can by any words I may use. The question is, Do you believe that the Bible is God’s Word, that Jesus Christ, His Son, came into the world to suffer, the just for the unjust—that the world, through Him, might be saved? If you do, then hear His words,—‘He that believeth on me is not condemned.’ If you do believe, then you are born again, for all who are not born again remain under condemnation. What you require, what we all require, is more grace, more faith, more love, more trust. For all those things we can pray, and wrestle, and strive, and God will not allow us to pray in vain. Faith may be a strong rope or a thin rope, so thin that we dread its giving way; but God forms it, God holds it fast. In His hands it will not break. Let us then trust in Him, and ever seek the aid of the Holy Spirit to hold us up, and we shall find the thin line increasing in size till it becomes a stout cable, capable of, ay certain of, holding our wave-tossed bark amid the fiercest tempest which can break around us.”

David returned home rejoicing. He did not regret abandoning his former intention and coming out to Canada; but he resolved to give himself up to the study of the Bible, and while following his secular calling, to assist his friend in spreading the truths of the gospel among the surrounding population.

Chapter Seven.

Donald’s expedition through the forest.—Attacked by wolves.—Relieved from them by a hurricane, and narrowly escapes being crushed by falling trees.

Donald having David now to attend to his office work, frequently made expeditions to long distances where it was proposed to establish fresh townships. These were performed on foot, and he had become so expert a backwood’s man, that he had no hesitation in trusting himself without a guide. He, however, carried his gun, and in summer a fishing rod, that he might supply himself with provisions by the way. His gun also he required for defence against any wolves or bears he might encounter, both of which were at that time common in the country, though long since driven off to the wilder regions of the far west and north.

He was returning from one of these expeditions in the early spring, when night approaching, as he was making his way through the forest, he prepared to encamp. His axe quickly enabled him to cut some sticks for his shanty, for which a quantity of large pieces of birch bark scattered about served as a covering. The tops of some young spruce firs strewed on the ground made a luxurious couch, while there was no lack of dry broken branches to furnish a supply of firewood. He quickly formed his hunter’s camp, and commenced cooking a couple of fish he had caught in a stream he had shortly before forded, and a bird he had shot during the day. This, with a handful of Indian meal made into porridge, gave him a sumptuous repast. After reading God’s Word by the light of his blazing fire, he commended himself to His merciful care, and having renewed his fire, lay down within his hut fearless of danger.

His journey had been long and fatiguing, which made him sleep soundly. He was at length awakened by a long low howl. He opened his eyes and discovered that his fire had gone out, but he was still too much oppressed by sleep to rise. He was under the impression that he had merely dreamed of the noise he had heard. It shortly came again, however, and this time he was aware that it was a reality. Mixed with the howl were the sounds of savage barks and yelps. He knew them to be the voices of wolves, disputing, probably, over the body of some deer they had pulled down, or found dead after it had escaped from the hunter’s rifle. Their repast finished, they might come in the direction of his camp. Starting up he prepared to relight his fire, and drawing the wood together, which he had kept for the purpose, he quickly produced a flame, and then looked to the priming of his gun to be ready in case of an attack. To sleep longer was out of the question; he therefore sat up, listening to the appalling sounds which ever and anon echoed through the forest. He had hitherto in his journeys never fallen in with a pack of wolves, though he had frequently met solitary individuals, whose savage jaws had shown what fearful foes, a number combined together, would prove. His stout Highland heart was not, however, inclined to give way to fear; besides which, his faith was firm, and he knew in whom he trusted. At the same time, not being a mere enthusiast, he felt that it was his duty to consider what were the best means of preserving his life by his own exertions, should the wolves discover him, and venture on an attack. He first collected all the fuel he could find near at hand, and made his fire blaze up brightly. As, however, it might not last till the morning, it occurred to him that it would be wise to examine the neighbouring trees, and to select one up which he might climb, should the savage creatures come round him. The larger trees were inaccessible; but he found one near at hand, the lower branches of which he might reach, could he manage to drive a few pegs into the trunk. With his axe he at once cut some holes as high as he could reach, and then sharpening several pieces of wood, hardening them in the fire. The trunk was soft, and to his satisfaction he found that he could make a ladder, by which he could reach the lowest branches, and thence gain a part of the tree which would afford him a secure seat, and enable him to fire down upon his assailants, and, as he hoped, drive them away.

The night wind blowing keenly, he had no wish to take his seat on the tree till compelled by necessity. Having therefore made his arrangements he again threw fuel on the fire, and sat down within the shelter of his hut, with his gun by his side. The howling of the wolves had ceased, and he hoped that they had turned away from him, and that he should not be troubled by a visit. A feeling of security stole over him, and fatigue overcoming his prudence, he again dropped off to sleep.

How long he had thus sat with his eyes closed he could not tell, when he was awakened by hearing the savage howls of the wolves close to him. Starting up he caught sight of numberless dark forms, with glaring eyes, making a circle round the fire, which they were evidently unwilling to approach, eager as they were to seize their prey. The fire had burnt somewhat low, and he feared that should the flames cease to ascend they might make a dash across the embers, and rush upon him.

The tree he had selected was at hand, and he now regretted that he had not ascended it at first. A few dry sticks were still within his reach. Springing out of his hut he seized them, and threw them on the fire. At that moment a savage wolf, either one of the leaders of the pack, or more hungry than its companions, made a rush at him from one side. Happily he was prepared, and firing, the creature rolled over. The instant it was dead the rest of the animals sprang on the body, tearing it to pieces. Donald on this, after re-loading his gun, having stirred up the fire so as to make it burn more brightly, ran towards the tree, up which he began to climb. The short delay of loading his gun might have proved fatal, for part of the pack perceiving him, came yelping on furiously, and he had scarcely got his feet out of the reach of their fangs before the whole pack had collected round him. His gun, which he had slung at his back, being rather weighty, he was afraid that the pegs would give way, and that he should fall among the ravenous jaws below him, but he succeeded at length in reaching a firm branch, and he drew himself up on to it, and thence climbed to the point he had selected.

Here he sat securely. Though he had escaped from the wolves they showed no signs of quitting him; the light of the fire, which still blazed up brightly, exhibiting their savage forms, as they stood howling beneath the tree, or circled round and round, looking up with eager eyes towards him. He refrained from firing, believing that they were more likely to go away when they found that they could not reach him, than if he should kill some of their number, when the pack would remain to devour the carcases of their companions. At last, when morning dawned, and they still continued round the tree, he began to lose patience, and to fear that they would carry on the siege till they had starved him out.

“I cannot kill the whole pack,” he said to himself, “but I may knock over so many that the others may at length take warning and make their escape.”

He had no difficulty in firing, and as a branch offered him a good rest for his gun, he was able to take steady aim, and never missed a shot.

He had killed half a dozen or more, still the wolves continued round the tree. It was in a dense part of the forest, through which the beams of the sun did not penetrate, or the creatures, disliking the bright light of day, would probably have retreated to their fastness. Hour after hour passed by, the air became unusually sultry and hot, even in the forest. Donald was growing, at the same time, very hungry, and though, as yet, he had rather enjoyed the adventure, he now began to feel seriously anxious about his safety. He had but a few bullets remaining, and the small shot in his pouch would produce but little effect on the heads of the wolves, and only render them more savage. He waited for some time, and then again began to fire, hoping that the sound of his piece might be heard by any party of Indians or travellers in the forest, who would come to his assistance, for he knew that the wolves, cowardly though savage, will seldom venture to attack several people together. He had expended his bullets. He felt more and more sensible of the increased heat, and on looking upwards through the branches he observed an unusual appearance in the sky. The wolves, at the same instant, became silent, and then seized, so it seemed, by a panic, the whole pack set off at full speed amid the trees, and were lost to sight.

The heat grew more intense than ever, not a breath of wind was stirring, the thunder roared in the distance, gradually the sky, as he could see it through the branches, became of an inky blackness, till a dark pall collected overhead, then the clouds appeared to break up, and whirled round and round each other in a state of dreadful commotion, forked lightening darted from the heavens, and the thunder, in rapid heavy peals, roared and rattled again and again till the very trees of the forest seemed to shake with the concussion. Far away out of the forest arose a black cone-shaped column, which soon joined itself to the mass of clouds overhead, the lightening flashing with greater vividness and rapidity, the thunder becoming more deafening than ever. The sound increased to a dreadful roar, coming nearer and nearer. He had no doubt that it was indeed a whirlwind sweeping through the forest, he could hear the tree tops dashed together, the rending branches, the crashing of falling trees, as the stout branches were twisted round and round, torn up by the roots, or snapped off as if they had been mere saplings. Should the devastating tempest pass across where he stood, he could scarcely hope to avoid being crushed by the falling trees.

He now remembered an open space a short distance off, which, had the ground not been swampy, he would have selected for his camp. He hurried towards it. As he made his way through the forest he could hear behind him those dreadful sounds which betokened the rapid approach of the hurricane. Already the tree tops were waving furiously above his head, as he sprang out into the open space, towards which he was directing his steps. In an instant after the tall trees came crashing down, and almost lifted off his feet, he found himself encircled by masses of leaves and boughs torn off and whirled through the air. On he sped till he gained the centre of the meadow, when, on looking back, a wide opening appeared in the part of the forest through which he had lately passed. An avenue had been formed nearly two hundred yards in width, in which not a tree remained standing, while it seemed to extend far away into the depths of the forest.

As he was anxious to continue his journey, as soon as all was quiet, he set off in the direction taken by the newly formed avenue. He had to proceed a considerable distance towards the track which led to the township, and he kept as near it as the fallen trees would allow, that he might observe the havoc which had been produced. He calculated, as he walked along, that upwards of three miles of forest had been levelled of the width already mentioned, and that many thousand trees had, in a few seconds, been destroyed.

Chapter Eight.

Donald resuming his journey, hears a cry of distress.—Finds a man under a fallen tree, who, after carrying him some distance, he discovers to be Alec Galbraith.—They camp for the night.

Donald was about to leave the scene of havoc caused by the whirlwind, when a groan, as if from a person in pain, reached his ears. It was repeated with a faint cry of “Help! help!” He made his way among the fallen branches in the direction from whence the sound came. At length he saw, beneath a fallen tree, a man of strong frame, so pressed down by a bough that he could not extricate himself.

“Get me out of this, for I can endure the agony no longer,” cried the man.

Donald hastened up to him. “I’ll do my best to release you, my friend; but let me see how I can best manage it,” he said. At first he thought of chopping away the bough, but then he saw that the man would suffer by the blows. He soon, on examination, determined how alone it could be done. With his axe he cut two pieces of wood, one of which would serve as a crowbar, the other thicker and shorter, to place under the bough after he had raised it. It was a work of time, and his heart was grieved at the pain which the poor man was enduring during the operation.

At length, by great exertion, he raised the bough sufficiently off the crushed limb to enable him to drag out the sufferer.

“Water! water!” were the only words the latter could utter. Donald had a small quantity in a flask, with which he moistened his lips. It somewhat revived the man; but how, in his crippled state, he could be conveyed to the township, was now the question. The stranger was strongly built and heavy, and Donald felt that, sturdy as he himself was, he could scarcely hope to carry him along the uneven track so great a distance. Still, to leave him in his present exhausted condition was not to be thought of; the wolves, too, from which he had escaped, might come back before he could possibly return with assistance.

“I must take you on my back, my friend,” he said to the stranger, who appeared to have recovered sufficiently to understand him. “I see no other way of preserving your life. Trust to me. I can at all events carry you some distance before nightfall, we will then encamp, and continue our journey to-morrow.”

“I am not worth the exertion and trouble it must cause you,” said the man, gloomily. “The pain overcame me, and I would that the trunk itself had fallen on me, and put me out of existence altogether.”

“Nay, nay, my friend,” answered Donald. “You should rather be thankful to the merciful God who, though He has allowed you to suffer injury, has preserved your life, that you may yet have an opportunity of devoting it to His service.”

“I do not comprehend your philosophy. I know that I have been suffering unspeakable agony. I have nothing to be thankful for on that account,” answered the man.

“We will not dispute the point now, my friend,” said Donald. “But let us make the best of our way to the township. This stout stick, which I used as crowbar, will serve to support me as I walk. Now let me lift you on my shoulders, and we will proceed on our journey.”

Donald, on this, stooped down, and placed himself so that the stranger could cling to his back, and with his heavy weight he made his way through the forest.

He had not gone far, however, before he began to fear that he should make but slow progress, even should he not be compelled to abandon his intentions altogether, and to leave the unhappy sufferer by himself in the forest. He staggered on till he reached a small stream, where he could obtain water to quench the sufferer’s burning thirst. He examined also the injured limb—the bone did not appear to be broken, although the flesh was fearfully bruised and discoloured.

The clay was already far advanced, and when in a short time he began to feel the strain which had been put on his own muscles, he came to the resolution of encamping where they were, and should no one appear, to continue the journey the next day.

Having first bathed the sufferer’s leg in the cold waters of the stream, and bound it up as he best could, he commenced making preparations for encamping, by cutting some spruce fir tops for a bed, collecting stakes and slabs of birch bark to form a hut, and dry branches for a fire. This did not take him long. He hurried through the work, for he wished to shoot some birds or catch some fish for supper. Having lighted a fire, he left his patient, suffering less apparently than before, and went off up the stream hoping to find the necessary provisions.

He was more successful even than he expected, and returned with an ample supply of fish and fowl. Hitherto the stranger had been in too much pain to speak more than a few words. The food greatly revived him; and as he sat up, leaning against the side of the hut, Donald observed that his eyes were fixed on him with an inquiring look. Donald had spoken several times in broad Scotch.

“It must be so,” exclaimed the stranger at length, “though I am not surprised, Donald Morrison, that you do not know me.”

Donald gazed eagerly at the stranger’s countenance, then leaning forward, grasped his hand.

“Yes, I know you now, Alec Galbraith, my dear friend,” he exclaimed, “though till this moment I had no suspicion who you were. How thankful I am that I should have been sent to your help.”

Donald then told Alec how anxiously he had been inquiring for him, and how sorry he had been at being unable to discover where he was. “I don’t like to make you talk now, though,” he added. “You must tell me all about yourself by-and-by.”

“That would not take long, Donald,” answered Alec. “Though, as the subject is not a pleasant one, I will gladly defer it. Just before I had discovered who you were I had been intending to insist on your leaving me till you could send some one back from the township to bring me in, if any one could be found to perform so thankless an office for a wretched pauper like me. I had been counting on my strong arm and resolution to make my way in the backwoods, as many another determined fellow has done, and now I find myself suddenly brought down, and for what I can tell to the contrary, a helpless cripple for life.”

“You are right in supposing that I would not leave you, my dear Alec,” answered Donald gently. “Indeed, I would not have done so had you been a stranger. Trust to God’s loving mercy for the future. Your leg is not, I hope, materially injured, and on your recovery you may be able to carry out the plan you proposed, for I feel sure you will find employment for your head as well as your arm, and the two together, in this magnificent country, will secure you all you can require. But oh, Alec, if you would but put faith in the love of God and His protecting care you would no longer be in dread of the future.”

Alec sat silent for some minutes. “If God is such as I was always taught to suppose Him, He can only visit with His vengeance a being like myself, who has dared His power, and done numberless things which He is said to prohibit. No, I feel that I am a wretched outcast sinner in His sight, worthy only of punishment. He has for some time past been pursuing me with His vengeance, and I see no reason why He should stop till He has crushed me quite.”

“Of course, my dear Alec, you are perfectly right in your estimation of yourself, and right, too, with regard to God, if you judge Him as man judges. His justice demands your punishment, but His love and mercy would preserve you if you would accept the plan He has formed for saving you and restoring you to that favour which you have justly lost. He asks you to do what you have just done, to acknowledge yourself a sinner, and now do what He demands besides, and throw yourself unreservedly upon Him.”

“Your system is a beautiful one, Donald, but I confess that I cannot comprehend it,” said Alec, with a groan, produced by the pain he was suffering, then he added, in his old careless and somewhat sarcastic tone, “Tell me, old fellow, is it thoroughly orthodox.”

“It is according to God’s word, and that I dare not dispute,” answered Donald. “And I will pray that His Holy Spirit will make it as clear to your mind, and bring it home to your soul, as He has to mine. We will not, however, talk further now, as it is important that you should get some sleep. I will watch over you, and keep the fire burning, and I hope that to-morrow we shall be able to resume our journey. Before you sleep, dear friend, we will offer up a prayer for God’s direction and assistance.”

“As you think fit,” answered Alec, expressing no satisfaction at the proposal.

Donald knelt and prayed, and then read a portion of God’s Word. Alec sat listening, but made no remark, though he pressed his friend’s hand when he had finished, and then lying down closed his eyes.

As Donald sat by the side of his friend he observed that though his slumbers were troubled he appeared to sleep soundly. He had resolved to carry him till he could get help, though he felt that the task was almost beyond his strength; but he did not despair. He prayed for that aid he so much needed, and felt sure that it would be sent in the way God might judge best.

The faithful believer does not expect a miracle to be wrought in his favour, but he knows that the Most High, who allows not a sparrow to fall to the ground without knowing it, so orders and arranges all the movements of His creatures, that He accomplishes, by apparently ordinary means, whatever He desires to bring about. Thus when the believer prays he is sure that his prayer will be answered, though it may not be in the way he, in his finite judgment would desire. Resting securely on God’s love and mercy, he is sure that all will be ordered aright.

Chapter Nine.

When encamped, Donald is visited by an Indian, who assists in carrying Alec to the township—Influenced by the conduct of the Christian Indians and the exhortations of his friends, Alec is brought to acknowledge the truth.—His brother requires his presence in England, to recover his father’s property, and he sets off.

Donald was still reading from his pocket Bible, but had begun to feel somewhat drowsy, when he was fully aroused by seeing a tall figure moving through the forest towards him. As the stranger approached, the light of the fire exhibited a person of a dark countenance, with black hair, in which were stuck a few tall feathers, while his coat and leggings, ornamented with fringe, were of untanned leather. Donald at once knew him to be one of the natives of the land. The Indian approached fearlessly, and sat down beside him.

“I see your fire from my camp,” he said, in tolerable English. “I white man’s friend. Where you go?”

Donald, who knew that the natives in that district were on friendly terms with the settlers, at once told him who he was, and the difficulty in which he was placed.

“I help you,” said the Indian. “We not far from river. Canoe take up your friend to township.”

The assistance offered was just what Donald had been praying for.

“God has sent you to my help, my friend,” he said to the Indian, “and I gratefully accept your offer.”

“You know God and His Son Jesus Christ?” asked the Indian.

“I do, my friend, praise His name that He has made Himself known to me.”

“I know and love Him too,” said the Indian. “He good Master; I wish all my people knew Him and served Him, then they not drink the fire-water, and vanish out of the land, as they are doing.”

Donald grasped the Indian’s hand. “I do, indeed, wish that not only your people, but mine also, were subjects of the Lord,” he said. “Let us pray that we may have grace to make His name known among them.”

The white man and the red knelt as brothers, side by side, and together offered up their prayers for the conversion of their countrymen.

“Please read God’s Word to me,” said the Indian. “I love to hear it.”

Donald gladly did as he was requested, his companion occasionally asking him questions. It was nearly midnight before the Indian rose to return to his own camp, promising to come back in the morning with some of his people to convey Alec to the river.

Soon after daybreak, he appeared with a litter, which he had had constructed, and a supply of food, in case, as he said, his white brother might require it. Alec had been for some time awake. He did not appear surprised when the Indians arrived.

“I heard you reading to the stranger,” he said, “but I was too weary to speak.”

As soon as breakfast was over, Alec was placed on the litter, and the Indians bore him along lightly and easily through the forest. It was past noon before the bank of the stream was reached. Here they launched two of their canoes, which together were sufficient to convey the whole party. Alec was placed in one, under charge of the chief, and Donald took his seat in the other. At night they camped on shore, when Donald read the Bible to his redskin friends, Alec being apparently an attentive listener.

“It is strange,” he afterwards remarked to Alec, “that that book should have such a power over the men of the wilderness as apparently to change their savage natures.”

“God’s Holy Spirit is the power applied to those who accept His offer made to them by means of the book,” continued Donald. “You, my dear Alec, will experience the same change if you will but take God at His word and trust Him, although you, from having had these offers often made and rejected, may have to pass through many troubled waters, such as these children of the desert have not experienced. But remember His words, ‘Seek and ye shall find, knock and it shall be opened unto you.’ ‘What encouragement does that promise afford sinners, conscious that they are such, and tossed about with doubts and fears.’”

Alec made no reply. Donald, however, felt sure that the conduct and conversation of his Indian friends had had a great effect on his mind.

On the evening of the second day, the party reached the township, when the Indians conveyed Alec to Donald’s house. The sincerity of the chief was proved, when he refused to receive any reward for the service he had rendered.

“No, no, my friend,” he answered. “I rejoice to help brother Christians, for I remember the Lord’s words, ‘I was hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me.’”

Alec, who had been laid on Donald’s bed, desired to bid farewell to the Indians before they took their departure, and to thank them for the service they had rendered him.

“Do not speak of it, friend,” answered the Indian. “Jesus, our Master, went about doing good. I only try to be like Him, and I very, very far away from that.”

“It is wonderful, very wonderful,” murmured Alec, after the Indians had left him. “I do not think my philosophy could have changed them as their faith in the Bible appears to have done.”

Notwithstanding this, it was long before Donald perceived the desired change in his friend’s heart.

The surprise of David may be supposed, when, on his arrival from the office, he found a stranger in the house, and discovered who he was, and though he grieved to see him in so sad a condition, yet he was thankful that he had thus been placed under his and his brother’s care. Like brothers, indeed, they watched over him, assisted by Mr Skinner, who, as they had to be constantly absent, proposed taking up his abode with them till Alec’s recovery.

“I shall make a capital nurse,” he said, “and may be able to minister to a mind diseased.”

Donald had also obtained the assistance of a surgeon, who at first seemed very doubtful whether Alec would ever recover the use of his limb, and expressed himself somewhat carelessly to that effect in the hearing of his patient. Alec groaned.

“To be a miserable cripple and a friendless beggar for the rest of my life,” he muttered.

“No, no, dear Alec, you will not be either friendless or a beggar,” said David, who sat by his side. “While Donald and I live you will find means of employment, even if you lose the use of your leg; and I am sure you know enough of us to feel that we can only rejoice to have you beneath our roof.”

For many days Alec continued ill and feverish, and seemed to pay but little attention to what Mr Skinner from time to time said to him, although his kind friend spoke most judiciously, and always sought the right season for speaking. He did not always, indeed, address him directly.

“It seems surprising to me,” he observed, one day, “that anyone should fail to acknowledge that man is composed of two parts, the physical and spiritual, and that God, his maker, who has so amply provided for his physical wants, and formed this world so beautifully and so perfect, should have neglected supplying the wants of his spiritual part—by far the most important—with what it so greatly requires, guidance and direction; and above all things, what it so yearns after, a knowledge of Him who formed it. Now those who really study the book (which professes to be given by God) according to the way He in it points out,—namely, in a humble spirit,—with prayer for enlightenment—invariably find that want fully supplied; and making due allowance for the various constitutions of the human mind, they are entirely agreed on all cardinal points regarding the Bible, while its opponents, who profess to be guided by the light of reason alone, differ in every possible way, their theories being almost countless; while they agree only in denying the authority of a book, of the Divine nature of which they have no experimental knowledge, declining, in their pride, to follow the directions it gives them for obtaining that knowledge. Then, when we take a glance round the heathen world, past and present, we find men following courses, with habits and customs destructive to human happiness, and abhorrent to the conscience which God has given man when uncontaminated by them. Contrast the result which the theories of philosophers and the heathen systems produced, with that which the mild loving faith Christ taught, if universally adopted, would bring about in the world, and who would hesitate between the two? And then when, in addition, we remember that Christ ensures to His followers eternal happiness, greater even than the mind of man can comprehend, what madness is it in those who hesitate to accept His offers! True, there are mysteries which even the Bible does not explain, such as the existence of Satan; but it does explain why Satan has power over man, and why sin and misery and death came into the world. This was the reason that man was disobedient, that man refused to trust to his Maker and listened to Satan. Man, in the pride of youth, health, and strength, and mental powers, may look with contempt on the Gospel, but God, in His loving mercy brings down those He loves, by poverty, suffering, and loss of friends, and then they feel their weakness and the vanity of all human systems, and are led to turn to Him who alone can lift them up and give them comfort, and a promise of a better life. How plain and easy are the demands He makes; how full of mercy; how simple is the plan He has arranged.”

Alec, as usual, had had been listening attentively to all Mr Skinner had said. He never attempted to argue with him. He had long lost all confidence in the correctness of the notions he had held. Tears filled his eyes. “I believe, help Thou my unbelief,” he ejaculated, in a broken voice.

His health and strength had been rapidly improving. Through the assistance of his friends, when perfectly recovered, he obtained employment, and was soon able to lay by money, and to feel himself independent. Notwithstanding this, by his life and conversation, he showed that the good seed had taken root; the only companionship he sought was that of Donald and David, and Mr Skinner, and other true Christians whom he could meet with in the neighbourhood. He had followed his friends’ example, and purchased a piece of land, which he had commenced cultivating, and on which he told them he hoped soon to put up a substantial log-house.

“You will not like to live a solitary life,” said Donald. “You will want a companion. I did not get on half as well as I do now before David came out.”

“Perhaps I may some day find one,” answered Alec, smiling. “I shall live on in hopes that one of congenial tastes to my own may be sent me.”

“Till you find him you must promise to remain on with us,” said Donald. “We cannot part with you, and I suspect that we should be jealous of any one whom you might select.”

A short time after this Alec received a letter from one of his long absent brothers, who had returned to England. He wrote saying that he had looked into their father’s affairs, and found that there was yet some property which might be recovered, but that it would require his presence and that of the rest of the family, to settle the matter. A remittance, to enable him, without inconvenience, to pay his passage home, was enclosed in the letter. Donald and David were truly glad to hear of this.

“You must not be persuaded, Alec, however, to stay away,” they exclaimed. “You must promise to come back as soon as your affairs are arranged. You are wanted in this country.”

Mr Skinner, while he congratulated his young friend on the brightening of his worldly prospects, cautioned him affectionately against the temptations to which he might be exposed.

“I know that I am very weak,” answered Alec, humbly. “But I go forth, not in my own strength but seeking the aid and direction of God’s Holy Spirit.”

“While that is sought, and it will never be denied, you will be strong, and I have no fear of the result,” was the answer.

The Morrisons and Mr Skinner undertook to look after Alec’s property during his absence, and he set off on his journey to England.

Chapter Ten.

A letter from Margaret.—Janet’s illness.—Anxiety about Alec’s return.—A delightful surprise.—Arrival of Alec and Margaret with Janet.—Margaret has become Alec’s wife. Conducted by the brothers to their new house.—Arrival of Mr Skinner’s sister, Mrs Ramsden and her daughters, who, as might possibly be expected, become the wives of Donald and David Janet continuing to live with Margaret, pays frequent visits to her other bairns, and is ever welcomed by them, and the numerous wee bairns who spring up in their midst.—Conclusion.

In those days, when no magnificent ocean steamers, with rapid speed, crossed weekly the Atlantic, the settlers in Canada, whose friends had returned to the old country, had often to wait three or four months before they could hear of their safe arrival.

Some time after Alec had gone a letter was received from Margaret, written in a less happy strain than was usual to her. Janet had been suffering from rheumatism, and found it impossible to spin as much as she had been accustomed to do. The state of her health made her feel an unwonted anxiety about the future prospects of her beloved charge. “I know, however, that all will be well,” wrote Margaret, “so I do my best to keep up her spirits, by reminding her of God’s loving kindness, in which she has hitherto so firmly confided. Were it not, however, for the assistance you have given us, my dear brothers, I confess that we should have a great difficulty in supporting ourselves. I do all I can to repay our kind and loving friend for the years of tender care she has bestowed on us. What would have become of us all had it not been for her?”

Donald and David had a short time before this sent home a larger sum than usual, which they hoped would have been received soon after the letter was written, and they trusted that it would assist to restore Janet’s spirits, and convince her that as long as they lived Margaret would not be left destitute.

Weeks and weeks passed by, and no acknowledgment of the sum was received, and no other letter came to hand.

As they hoped that Alec Galbraith would not be long absent, wishing to give him a pleasant surprise, they had gone on with the erection of his house, and completed it, declaring that as their reward they would sell their property, for which they had had several advantageous offers, and go and live with him till they should fix on another location further off in the wilderness, to bring under cultivation.

“He must have been at home several weeks, and had plenty of time to arrange his affairs with his brothers,” observed David.

“I wonder he has not written to us. Perhaps the letter, or the vessel herself bringing it, may have been lost,” observed Donald. “That has been the fate of several of Margaret’s letters. Depend upon it we shall hear from him or our sister before long, and he is sure to pay her a visit before he comes back, that he may bring us news of her and Janet.”

They were seated together one evening in their log-house, their meal just placed on the table. “I fancy I heard footsteps,” said David. “Yes, some one hails.”

It was Alec Galbraith’s voice. Donald and David rushed out. There stood Margaret and Alec Galbraith, while dear old Janet followed with eager looks close behind them. Donald, seizing his sister’s hands, drew her to him, while David grasped those of Alec, till his brother could relinquish Margaret to him, and then land Janet, rushing forward, threw her arms around both the brother’s necks, and sobbed out, “My bairns, my bairns, though I feared the salt sea I would have gone over more than twice the distance to hold ye thus agen!”

The new arrivals were soon seated at the already spread board. As Margaret happened to place her hand on the table Donald observed a plain gold ring on her finger.

“What!” he exclaimed, turning quickly to Alec. “Is it really so?”

“I thought we should surprise you,” he answered, laughing. “But I would not come away without her, and as she knew that you would mourn my absence, she at last consented to return with me as my wife, provided Janet would come also. It was a hard matter, however, I can assure you, to persuade her to venture across the ocean.”

“Indeed, my dear Donald,” said Margaret, when she and her brother were shortly afterwards together, and her husband was absent, “much as I found I loved him, and had loved him since I was a girl, I would not have consented to be his wife had I not been convinced that he had abandoned those infidel principles which had caused his poor mother so much grief, and had also become a faithful follower of the Lord. I was at first delighted to see him, and then my heart sank within me for fear that he was unchanged. He did not leave me long in doubt on the subject. I knew by his gentle and subdued manners, by the unmistakable expressions he used, and then by the deep sorrow that he expressed, that the opinions he once held had grieved his poor mother, that he no longer adhered to the vain philosophy in which he had formerly gloried. I soon discovered that he loved me, and then I had no hesitation in giving him my heart in return.”

“You acted wisely and rightly, dear Margaret and David and I are truly glad to welcome him as a brother, whom we have long looked upon as the most intimate of our friends.”

The next day, Alec and Margaret, accompanied by Janet, were conducted in due form by Donald and David to the house which they had but lately finished on Alec’s property. The surprise was indeed a great and delightful one. As it did not take long to get in as much furniture as was required at that season of the year, Margaret and her husband, with her faithful nurse, in a few days took up their abode there.

Alec’s worldly circumstances had greatly improved, for much more of his father’s property had been recovered than he expected, so that his share was considerable, and with the experience he had gained, he was able to employ his capital in farming, with great advantage.

“What will you two poor bachelors do by yourselves,” said Margaret. “Could you not manage to come and live with us in this house as you purposed doing had Alec returned alone?”

“We have work enough in drawing our plans, and other business of our office to employ nearly every hour of the day,” answered Donald. “And besides, we are anxious to assist Mr Skinner, who wishes to enlarge his house as soon as possible, as he expects a widowed sister and her family to join him shortly, and he does not consider the accommodation he can now offer them, sufficient.”

“Oh, I suppose he wishes to have a nursery built where the children may be out of hearing,” said Margaret, laughing.

“He has not mentioned the ages of his nieces, or how many there are of them,” said David, “but I should think, from a remark he made, that they cannot be little children.”

The young men made no inquiry of their friend about the more juvenile portion of the family of his expected relatives. As he had himself now been some time absent from England, he might have been able to give them very little information. David, however, confessed to Margaret that he felt somewhat curious on the subject. This was increased when the new part of the house having been finished, Mr Skinner fitted up one chamber which he said was for his sister, and two other pretty little rooms for his elder nieces, and certainly the furniture, which he put in to them, was scarcely such as he would have chosen for young children.

Just at the time Mr Skinner was expecting the arrival of his sister, Mrs Ramsden and her family, Donald and David had to leave home to visit some distant township on business. Mr Skinner had, before this asked the assistance of Margaret and Janet in fitting up his house. Janet, with her usual kindness of heart, offered to remain for a day or two to receive the new comers, whom she understood had no servant with them.

“The poor lady may be tired, and the bairns will ha’ na one to gie them their supper, and put them to bed, and it will be just like old times coming back, and be a muckle pleasure to me,” she observed, to Margaret. Mr Skinner was very glad to accept her services, feeling sure that she would be of much assistance, although he might not have supposed that his nieces would require the attendance of a nurse.

Janet was to bring word to Margaret when Mrs Ramsden would be able to see her, and she proposed then walking over with Alec to visit her.

She had numberless occupations which kept her and Janet fully employed; for though her husband had engaged a sturdy Scotch girl to milk the cows, and perform some of the rougher work of the farm, the damsel herself required her constant superintendence. There were poultry of several varieties, as well as pigs, to be fed; the flower and kitchen garden to be cultivated, and numerous household duties to be attended to, Alec himself being constantly engaged in clearing fresh ground, and in the more laborious work about the farm.

Margaret had greatly missed Janet the days she had been absent, and with much satisfaction, therefore, she saw her with her knitting in hand—without which, even in Canada, she never moved abroad—approaching the house.

“Oh yes, they are come, my bairn,” she said, to Margaret’s inquiry. “Mistress Ramsden herself is a brave lady, and seldom have my eyes rested on twa mair bonny lassies than her daughters, na pride, na nonsense about the young leddies, Mistress Mary and Emily Ramsden, and just as gentle, and loving, and kind as lambs to the younger children. They thanked me for my help; but they put their hands to everything themselves, and would nae let me do half as much as I wished. I’ll tell you what, Margaret, I have set my heart on having them for my twa bairns. They would make them bonny wives, indeed, but don’t ye gang and tell your brothers, for there is that obstinacy in human nature that they might back, and kick, and run off into the woods rather than do what, if left alone, they would be eager after.”

Margaret promised to be discreet, and allow her brothers to judge for themselves, without praising the Misses Ramsden, should her opinion of them, as she had little doubt it would agree with that formed by Janet. Next morning she and Alec paid their promised visit, and she was fully as much disposed as Janet to admire the Misses Ramsden and their mother. The more she saw of them the more pleased she was, not only with their appearance, but with their earnest piety, their simple unassuming manners, and their apparent energy and determination, and their evident readiness to submit to all the inconveniences to which settlers in a new country must, of necessity, be subjected.

A few days after this Donald and David returned, and called on Margaret on their way home. They naturally inquired whether Mrs Ramsden and her family had arrived. She wisely said but little about the young ladies, and Janet was equally discreet. They, however, managed to find their way that evening to Mr Skinner’s.

They were always glad to pay their kind friend a visit; but from their sister’s and Janet’s discreet silence, they suspected that the change in the character of his establishment would be a drawback to the pleasure of their previous intercourse. Not, however, till a much later hour than usual on the evening in question did they discover that it was high time to take up their hats and wish Mr Skinner and his sister and her daughters good-bye.

As they walked homewards, Donald, after a long silence, burst out laughing, exclaiming, “Weel, I expected to see a number of bairns in pinafores, but eh! she’s a braw lassie.”

“She is the sweetest young creature I have ever had the happiness of meeting,” said David.

“But I am talking of the elder sister,” exclaimed Donald.

“And I speak of the younger,” observed David. “But they are both very nice girls—there is no doubt as to that—no nonsense about them—so full of spirits and fun, and yet so lady-like and quite, and I heard Emily’s voice, when joining in the prayer, it was so true and earnest.”

“I was nearest Mary, and was struck by the genuine tone of her’s,” observed Donald.

“Do you know, David, that I had made up my mind to follow the example of Mr Skinner, and to live a bachelor for ten years to come at least, and then, perhaps, to go back to the old country to look out for a wife. But eh! that looking out for a wife must be unsatisfactory work at best. How can a man possibly discover the real character and disposition of a lady when the object he has in view is suspected, if not well known.”

“We may be sure we shall be guided aright if we seek guidance in that as in all other matters,” answered David. “But I cannot help hoping that neither you nor I need be compelled to make the expedition you suggest. I have sought guidance, and I am sure that in God’s good time we shall be directed aright.”

Day after day, when their work was over, they had some cogent reason for calling at their friend’s house; and when Margaret next met them, Donald confessed that if he ever could venture to marry he should be thankful to make Mary Ramsden his wife, while David made the same acknowledgment with regard to her younger sister.

Happily, in a prosperous country like Canada, to steady and industrious men like the young Morrisons, the impediments were not insuperable, nor, indeed, did they take long to overcome.

Faithful Janet was overjoyed when she heard that the lassies she so much admired had promised to become the wives of her twa bairns, with a full approval of their mother and uncle. As they agreed that their old house might not always be sufficiently large to hold them both, they moved further off to the west, where they were enabled to purchase, by the sale of their already well cultivated farm, two good sized allotments of land, on each of which they reared a comfortable log-house, where, shortly afterwards, they and their brides took up their abode.

“My work is among my fellow-creatures,” observed Mr Skinner, “or I should be much inclined, my dear nephews, to follow your example, and move nearer you.”

He therefore remained at the now well advanced township, though before long, to their great satisfaction, the Galbraiths became their near neighbours, Alec having purchased a property a little beyond theirs.

The Morrisons gratefully remembered the kindness they had received from Mr McTavish and other friends in the old country. To many young men who came out with introductions from them they gave a hearty welcome, extending a helping hand to those who required assistance, while they rendered a still greater service to not a few whom they saw falling into evil ways, by perseveringly, though gently and lovingly, warning and exhorting them—not leaving them in spite of ingratitude and opposition, till they had been the means of bringing them back into the right path.

In the latter respect especially, Alec followed their example. He remembered into what a depth of sin he had sunk, and that it was through the love of Jesus, and by no merit of his own, he was drawn out of it. His sin he knew was washed away. Gratitude to that loving Saviour urged him to try and call those sheep who were wandering away along the thorny paths he had followed into the true fold, where they might rest secure under charge of the faithful Shepherd who never forsakes those who seek Him.

Janet, though continuing to live with Margaret, paid frequent visits to the other houses of the family, at which her coming was always hailed with delight by the numerous wee bairns, who, in the course of time, made their appearance among them, as she was also warmly welcomed by Donald and David, who, though they felt that to Mr Skinner they were, humanly speaking, indebted for the spiritual life they enjoyed, could never forget how devotedly she had watched over their infancy and youth, and that it was mainly to her training and instruction their present prosperity was owing.