Kitabı oku: «With Wolseley to Kumasi: A Tale of the First Ashanti War», sayfa 10
Chapter Ten.
A Native Fleet
“Yo’s no need for to worry, massa,” sang out Johnnie, severely, as Dick raised his head from his hands and looked along the deck anxiously. For the fact that it was empty, save for the chief and himself and three others, caused him sudden anxiety. “Yo’s get de wind again, and Johnnie see um all right. Wait dar! Back um! Yo black boy ober dar, swing um round so!”
He was in the well where the engine lay, and as he gave the orders Dick saw by the light of the furnace that he had shut off steam. Then he waved to the man at the helm, and the launch gently fell across the stream. And there she lay, shrouded in darkness, and hidden from the sight of the pursuers by the bank round the angle of which they were congregated. But whether they could see her or not, the enemy answered James Langdon’s shout with a volley from their muzzle-loaders.
“That’s um. Fire away, you debils. See some fun soon. See what Johnnie and his broders do. Listen to um cussin’.”
He roared with delight, for, as the reports of the scattered volley subsided the voice of James Langdon again came to the ear.
“Wade in!” he called out in the Ashanti tongue. “It is only a stream, my brothers, and in that way we shall have them. They must not escape. They have all the gold with them.”
“Yo watch!” said Johnnie, suddenly, as a series of loud splashes told that the enemy were attempting to carry out the movement. “You see fun now, massa. Hi, yo black boys! Fire de rifle.”
It was laughable, ridiculous, but very wonderful after all, to see Johnnie there, giving commands in his quaint English, commands which could not be understood by a single one of the miners. And yet this little stoker had a head on his shoulders, and had shown that he was deserving of much trust. For if he did not know the Ashanti tongue, by means of many jerkings of his arms and a huge amount of energy he could explain his plans, and get the men to fall in with them. And now Dick could see that he had made good use of the short time given him at the launch.
He had had a clear half-hour, or a little more, perhaps, and in that small space of time he had lit the fire, had stacked the bags of gold, for they could be seen in the cabin, lying snugly under the light of the furnace, and had made his arrangements for defence. He had posted his men a little distance away, under the trees, just where they could cover the enemy with their rifles. They were lying in the boat selected for their transport, and in the bows one of their number cowered over the small brass cannon. He had seen a gun before, that was evident, and his eyes gleamed with excitement. He put an arm out, clutched a bough, and moved the position of the boat ever so little. Then came Johnnie’s excited shout, a spout of flame burst from nine or ten rifles, and then there was a short pause, followed by a flash, by the splutter of powder at the vent, and then by an appalling crash as the gun went off.
“Put um helm ober, boy! Now give um little steam. Gently! Backum!”
Above the screams of the enemy, the hoarse bellows of those who had escaped the rifle bullets and the buckshot with which the gun had been loaded, for bags of these had been brought as likely to be the proper form of missile, the voice of Johnnie could be heard.
“Back um! Now, yo black debil in bow, hook um on. Throw de painter! Make up fast as wax. Now gib um steam. Go ’head. Gib um all she know!”
It might have been rehearsed. It was marvellous to think that all this had been arranged by a little fellow from Sierra Leone, employed as the stoker and driver of a steam launch. Dick was dumbfounded. But by now he was past expressing his feelings, and besides, he was so exhausted that he could hardly speak. He saw, however, that the chief command was in excellent hands for the moment, and, like a sensible fellow, he left Johnnie to conduct the flight till he had his strength again. And so he lay flat on the deck, listening to the shouts of the pursuers, getting now farther and farther away, to the husky voice of James Langdon, as he raced through the trees, and to the mutterings of the native at the engine of the launch. Then he smiled, a grim smile of amusement and of exultation, for he had conquered. He had won the fight, an unequal one, to say the least of it, and here he was, thanks to the splendid fellows who supported him, steaming away from the mine without the loss of a single worker, with little to mourn for, and with sufficient gold aboard to pay all wages, and leave a very handsome margin with which to reimburse his employers for the burning of their few spare stores and their stockade. In addition, there would be enough to give a fine profit, and such encouragement that when things had quieted down and James Langdon’s account had been settled, the mine would be worked again, and he, Dick Stapleton, would have certain employment.
“De beggar follow. Dey runnin’ down in de trees. Berry well! We stop dat. Yo boys, back dere. Get um guns ready.”
“Tell your men to load and fire into the trees when my comrade gives the command,” said Dick, in the Fanti tongue, which all the Ashantis understand. “Now, Johnnie, tell me what you want, and I’ll pass on the order. You will command till we reach the river.”
“Tank you, massa,” was the answer, as the little fellow swung round for a moment, showing a smiling mouth and two rows of gleaming teeth. “You watch, and see me gib dem pepper. Me gib dem fellows beans.”
He cut the steam off just a little till the launch slowed down, and till the Ashantis on the bank began to overhaul her. Meanwhile all aboard the launch maintained silence. Then again the native stoker shouted a command, and a hot musketry fire was poured into the forest. At the same instant the launch started forward as if she had been hit, and with the boat in tow went racing down the tributary. Nothing could stop her now. Bullets and slugs whizzed overhead, and a few struck the deck and the sides of the towing boat. But they could not arrest the flight, while the pursuers might shout and bawl as they liked. The launch sped on her way, causing the water to flood the muddy banks on either side, and disturbing more than one of the loathsome monsters reclining there. They came to a bend suddenly. She swung round it, dashed for an open reach, and shot out into the stream.
“Well done!” cried Dick, rising to his feet, and taking his post as leader again. “Very well done, Johnnie. You are a born commander. Now, put out into midstream and send her ahead. How’s steam, my lad?”
“’Nough to bust um, massa. Plenty steam and heap coal.”
“Then keep her going while I talk to the chief.”
He went right aft, to where the leader of the miners sat beside his comrade, staring to either hand and discussing the flight with his friend. Within six feet of them, at the end of the towing rope, lay the boat, with ten men aboard her, all with rifles in their hands, eagerly scanning the bank from which the last shots had come. Overhead the sky was already distinctly lighter. The forest on either hand had receded all of a sudden, while there were evident signs of coming day.
Every face aboard the two boats bore the same expression of contentment, of pride, at the success of their efforts. There was even a sterner look, as if many of the men would have delighted in another brush with the enemy.
“Never fear,” said Dick to the chief, “there will be more blows to be struck yet. We have miles of river to traverse, and if the Ashantis are on the war-path, it is more than likely that we shall have to run the gauntlet of a few of them. What do you think, chief?”
“We shall meet them on the Prahsu,” was the answer. “There will be more trouble both for us and for the English chief. As for these others who have just attacked us, they are beaten. They may cover their heads and seek women for attack after this. Men will laugh at them. The two hundred who are to follow will surely cut them to pieces if these remain to tell the tale.”
“Then we can take it easily now. We can reserve our coal, and prepare for this other meeting, chief. Why should we not run down the stream at night, or at least down that part known as the Prahsu?”
“The scheme is a good one,” was the answer, “and for the white chief and his servant it will be as well to act as you say. For us there must be a different arrangement. Has our brother thought of the fate which will come to men of Ashanti should they land on the far bank some miles down this river? There the cowardly Fantis live, and with them we are forever at war. They would kill us most certainly.”
Dick had not thought of that before, and the news came as a shock to him. If that were the case, and these miners from Ashanti would be in danger lower down the river, where would they be safe? In Elmina?
“Then we shall have to part, I fear,” he said, after some minutes’ thought. “The Fantis swarm lower down the stream, and though some might be friendly, others would soon make an attack upon you. Where can you go?”
“There are villages in our own country where we shall be secure, white chief. Already the fighting men will have left, so that our coming will not be noticed, and there will be none strong enough to harm us. Then, as the warriors return, we can leave. When all is quiet we will go to the mine and commence work again, for you will return?”
“I should say that we shall do that without a doubt,” answered Dick. “The gold obtained has been abundant, and my employers will come again when the country has grown quiet. Perhaps this trouble will die down rapidly, and we shall be back in a month or two.”
“You may, and yet I doubt it, Englishman. This war has been the thought of my countrymen for many years. They long to reach the coast, to have their own town there, where they may obtain supplies and guns. Yes, we know that, for we have listened to their talk. And besides, our brothers are born to fight. In times of peace they have little to do, and so it happens that we are forever quarrelling with those who live near at hand. A few, like ourselves, are trained to mine, and the king keeps us free from interference. We are necessary, for with gold the king buys guns and powder, and in our country it is a law that every nugget found goes to him as tribute. The dust belongs to the diggers, while those who dare to conceal the nuggets, even if they be only as small as the smallest bean, are taken to Kumasi and sacrificed. Thus, as I said, we can return to the villages, and we shall be safe so long as we can keep away from the war parties. For they will know that we come from the mine, and doubtless the king, having declared that he will fight the Fantis and the English, has given orders for all who worked there to be slain or taken captive.”
“And how do you propose to avoid these war parties?” asked Dick, anxiously.
“In this way. We will steam on till we are clear of these cravens who attacked us, and as the moon grows near we will tie up under the bank. Then, if our white chief agrees, we will serve out the dust, each man taking what is due to him. Then we will dive into the forest, and will make for Kumasi. Trust us to keep away from the fighters.”
“While I shall have to run down-stream alone and escape them if I can.”
“We would gladly come with you,” said the native, “but it would mean death to us. If the white chief desires it we will come.”
“No. I will go alone. You have done splendidly,” said Dick. “You have proved true and more than brave. I shall report that to our employers. We will steam on for a little while, and then we will serve out the wages. Later we shall hope to meet again at the mine.”
Little did Dick guess that this river would be dyed in many places with the blood of men ere the country was quiet again, and that the forests and woods would echo to the cheers of British soldiers ere King Koffee, the arrogant and bloodthirsty potentate of Kumasi, would consent to withdraw his fighters. He did not know that even then telegrams were speeding home to England, that the situation at Elmina and at Cape Coast Castle was serious in the extreme, and that nothing but war and rumours of war were in the air. Little did he dream that he was still within the nest of a hornet, almost the only man of his colour still alive so many miles from the coast. How was he to learn that thousands of warriors were on the march, and that the forest paths were teeming with men of Ashanti? It was enough for him to remember the danger from which he had escaped. The memory of it, and of the successful defence and escape, filled him with glee, and he looked forward to the brush which he might have on his way down the Pra with a light heart which defied all thoughts of failure.
Two hours later the launch ran in to the bank, and was moored under the trees. Then the books showing the amounts due to the miners were produced, for Dick had had the care of these, and had sent them to the launch in one of the bags. There was a pair of scales also, and very soon the portions were separated, four ounces of gold going to swell each little heap, as a special reward for the manner in which the men had fought. Then each of the heaps was sewn up in a piece of canvas, and secreted upon the person of the owner. The remainder of the dust was stored in the cabin again, and, that done, the launch put out from the bank, and ran to the far side of the river. Then, with many a cheer and shout, the Ashanti gold-miners – excellent fellows all, and very different from their warlike brethren – stepped ashore, and made off into the bush. Dick and Johnnie felt quite lonely when they had gone. They pushed off into the stream and steamed away.
“Better leab um boat behind,” said the native, suddenly, after some minutes’ silence. “Suppose hab to run, den boat hold um back. P’raps mean um dead.”
It was an excellent idea, showing again that there is wisdom to be found in a native, and that Johnnie, for all his quaint looks and merry ways, was a thinker.
“We’ll do so certainly,” said Dick, at once adopting the advice. “Look for a spot where we can hide her, and which we can pick out again should we require her. It must be on this bank, too, so we will keep within easy distance.”
It was not until an hour had passed that they hit upon a suitable place. Then, at a nod from the leader, the launch swung in closer to the bank, while Johnnie ran to the stern and drew in the painter. He ran the native craft up alongside the launch, and hopped lightly into her. Then, as Dick put the propeller astern – for the stream ran fairly strong here – the native pushed off, and guided the boat into the shallows. There was a massive tree there – a species of fern, growing to the height of thirty or forty feet perhaps, and dropping its abundant spreading foliage like an umbrella all round till the tips trailed in the water. Johnnie pushed boldly in, and Dick could see the big fronds shaking. Then he edged the launch closer in till her nose dipped under the leaves, and he heard her grate against the side of the native craft.
“Got um fast front and back,” sang out the native. “No move um, whateber happen. She fill wid water, and not sink. Tree hold um up nicely. Yes, and no one know um dere. Whole army pass, and neber guess. Golly, massa, de berry place!”
“And one to find easily,” answered Dick. “Now, hop along, and let us get off. We’ve plenty of steam, and I think we’ll put her hard at it. The tales of these warriors of King Koffee make me uneasy, and I’m anxious to get down to the coast.”
Very soon Johnnie appeared from amidst the leaves, and they pushed off into the stream till they reached the centre. And there they remained throughout the day, reeling the miles off rapidly, for they had the stream to help them.
“We’ll keep on without a single halt right down to the sea,” said Dick, as he sat on the edge of the engine-well, eating a meal which the native had just cooked. “We know there will be a moon, and now that the river is broader we shall be able to see easily. We’ll chance sandbanks, and hope that none will come in our path. By to-morrow morning the natives should be left behind, and we should be within reach of friends. Good coffee, Johnnie. You are a capital hand at other thing besides making war!”
The native stoker grinned his delight as he turned to face his master.
“When me so high me learn to cook,” he said, with a merry laugh, holding his hand out some three feet from the deck. “In my country de women and de children see to de food while de men smoke and sleep, and get strength for de fight.”
“A queer way of getting up one’s muscle,” laughed our hero. “Just fancy training for school sports, or a gymnastic competition, in a similar manner! One would be rather soft, and hardly in the best condition.”
“Dere where Johnnie learn to fight,” went on the stoker. “Me go out when me not yet a man, and in de first battle me kill an enemy. He rush so” – he clambered from the well, and demonstrated the method of attack with such energy that the launch rolled – “he make stroke at Johnnie’s head, and miss um mark, golly! by de inch. Den me answer. Me hit wid all de strength wid um club, and he go whop! He fall dead on de ground. Den me take um head, and shout de war cry.”
He made another attempt to bring the last in reality before his master, and set the forests ringing. Dick clapped a hand over his mouth, and pushed him into the well.
“Steady, my lad,” he said. “There may be an Ashanti army within hearing of that call, and then what will happen? Spin your yarn if you wish, but do it quietly. How’s steam?”
A little abashed, but yet glowing with the memory of his victory, the native stepped to the gauge and read off the pressure. Then he shovelled a heap of coal from the bunker.
“Come night, and not see so well,” he said. “Hab plenty ready to run wid.”
About three hours after that, dusk began to fall, and for a little while the fugitives were compelled to lie in close to the bank of the river, for it was densely dark. But the time passed pleasantly enough, for Dick had his pipe alight for the first time since the previous day and as he smoked it, watching the glow of the bowl, and looking across to a similar glow proceeding from the clay gripped between the white teeth of the native, his thoughts returned to the stockade. He went over all the scenes again, his nearness to James Langdon, and the luck he had had then. His successful attempt to reach the stockade, and the desperate fight he had had on the way. And, later, the retreat, with all its numerous incidents. He was still thinking of it when the moon came up in all her splendour, flooding the river till it was almost as light as day. And then, for the first time for many an hour, he looked at himself, and was horrified. His hands were cut and scratched in all directions, as doubtless was his face also. His clothes hung in ribbons about him, while, by the stains upon the breast of his coat and upon his shirt, one would have thought that he had been badly hit. But that he certainly was not; and now he remembered how the wretch who had first attacked him outside the stockade, had fallen under his own sword – fallen against the one who struck the blow.
“Time to move,” he said, springing to his feet. “Steady ahead. More. Let her have it.”
The native grinned. He wiped his hands with a piece of waste extracted from his pocket, and then opened the throttle. And once he had the launch moving at full speed he leaned back in contentment, watching his master with one eye, while with the other he looked at the smoke curling up from his pipe.
An hour later, as they swung round a bend in the river, and came into a long, straight stretch, a cry of amazement escaped them. The water on the left bank was black with native craft, while the hubbub of some thousands of voices came to their ears. But that was as nothing to the shouts which greeted the appearance of the launch when she came into the straight. There was a deafening burst of shouting. Tom-toms and drums were beaten in all directions, while the deep note of many a native war-horn was heard. For crossing the stream was one division of King Koffee’s army, en route for the Fanti country. And of this division, amounting to some ten thousand men, not more than a tenth were on the water, for there were insufficient boats within a radius of many miles to carry more. The passage was being made by detachments, and the first crossing had just commenced. That there were more of the warriors ashore Dick quickly learned, for if there had been shouting from the men on the water, the noise from the jungle was vastly more pronounced. And then the firing commenced, though the launch was beyond the range of the cheap, Birmingham-made guns owned by the natives. Still, the loud reports issuing from the bush were sufficient to show what was happening, while any doubt that there could possibly have been was set at rest by the manner in which the surface of the river was struck and thrashed by the bullets. They splashed in all directions, bullets ricocheting and screaming, slugs and buck-shot of native manufacture dropping heavily into the water, while the numerous pebbles which were fired sank out of sight at once.
Dick smiled grimly, once he had overcome his first feelings of consternation and astonishment. He stretched out from his position at the tiller and caught up a rifle. Another movement and he had three of the weapons at hand, for there was a good supply on board. And while he held the tiller between his knees, he jerked cartridges into the breeches. As for Johnnie, his mouth had opened in one vast expression of astonishment as the natives came into view, and for an instant he had changed colour under the dark pigment of his skin. Then, glancing at his leader, and seeing how he was engaged, the little fellow gripped his pipe the tighter and threw himself upon his shovel. The door of the furnace swung open with a clatter, and Dick heard the grating of the shovel on the narrow iron floor of the engine-well. A flash lit up the stoker’s figure, and Dick caught sight of a roaring fire, quenched a second later with a mass of coal. Then a dense volume of black smoke swept out of the low funnel and went trailing overhead till it merged with the clouds and the trees. He glanced at the pressure gauge, and by the help of the moon saw that it stood at sixty. Johnnie turned to it also and pointed.
“Hab plenty more soon, massa,” he said. “Make water bubble and fizz. Boiler go bur-r-r-r-r wid de pressure. Chimney velly hot. Golly! Look at um!”
“Time to think about a shot or two,” answered Dick, quietly. “Get a couple of rifles and some cartridges, and load. Keep them handy to the engine. Then go on stoking. By the way, have we a fender aboard?”
“Big one forard, sar. Where hab him?”
“Right on the bows, rather low down. Slippy, my lad.”
They had little time for chatter, and both knew it. The native crawled on his hands and knees along the deck, and swung a large rope fender over the bows, securing it on the very stem of the launch. Then he ran back, and the furnace door swung open again. By now the steam pressure had risen to sixty-four, and the needle was slowly jerking up. The funnel vomited even more inky-black smoke, while flames and small particles of coal flew into the air, the latter raining down on the deck. Meanwhile the natives had not been idle, for after the first shouts of surprise, and the salvo of bullets and slugs, the whole mass of canoes had set off across the river to intercept the launch. The consequent confusion can be well imagined. There were then screams and shouts of anger. Boats became locked together, and Dick saw some of the crews striking at one another in their rage and in their anxiety to get clear of their neighbours, and have a share in the capture.
“That gives us a chance,” he said. “If they had started from the outside line there would have been no doubt about the issue. Now it’s touch and go. They may be lined across our way, or they may not. Depends on the crews. As for their firing, I don’t care a rap about it. Those guns don’t carry over-far, and from what I saw at the stockade I should say that at a little more than a hundred yards one would only experience a heavy blow. At fifty the slugs would penetrate. Hullo! I don’t like those beggars.”
As he spoke there was greater commotion amidst the canoes, all of which were now under weigh, while those on the outside, the river side of the fleet, had broken clear of their comrades and were pushing for the centre of the stream. This, however, was not what attracted Dick’s attention, and drew the remark from him. It was the sight of two native craft of larger size which suddenly pushed from the shadow of the bank. They were crammed to overflowing, and carried big crews, who knelt in a line along each side. In the centre stood the warriors, shouting and gesticulating, and fighting their way through the mob. Small consideration did they give to those who were in their way. Dick saw the warriors strike at their comrades with the butts of their firelocks, and watched as more than on of the smaller craft was overturned. Then he sat down and took up a rifle.
“A shot might help,” he said quietly. “How’s steam?”
Johnnie pointed to the indicator and looked proud.
“Hab plenty,” he said. “Stoke um more and perhaps um bust. Plenty steam in de biler.”
“Then get your rifle, and aim at the rowers in the first of those two boats. Don’t leave her alone. Keep on all the while unless you have to stoke again.”
“Not want to. Hab plenty steam and big fire,” answered Johnnie, with a satisfied nod. “Not hab any more coal till half-hour. By den p’raps not hab steamer.”
“Perhaps,” answered Dick, with a smile. “We’re going to see to that. Out with your rifle.”
Still gripping the tiller between his knees, while he sat on the edge of the well, he took a long and careful aim at the first of the paddlers, the one who set the stroke to the boat, and pressed the trigger when the sights were on him. Instantly there was a howl of rage, and the man dropped back on to the rower behind him, while the whole lot came to a halt. But it was only for a quarter of a minute. One of the warriors who stood close by lifted the body and hove it overboard without ceremony. Then he seized the paddle and thrust it into the water. Crack! Dick’s rifle broke the stillness which had followed the shout, and the man who had just knelt crumpled into a mass, the same disorder following.
“Five hundred yards I make it,” said our hero quietly. “Give them a full sight, Johnnie, and aim for the centre of the body. Ah! A good one. I think you hit the side of the boat first, and then the man. They don’t waste time aboard those craft, and human life does not seem to be over-valuable.”
By now the launch and the fleet had sensibly decreased the intervening distance, the latter making directly across the river Pra, while the former raced down the centre of the river. It had become more than ever a question of time, and the thought made Dick redouble his efforts. And thanks to his shooting, the progress of the two war boats was greatly delayed, his bullet singling out the leading paddler every time the place was filled, till there was a panic in that part of the vessel. Then suddenly an unexpected thing happened. The two aboard the launch had taken little notice of the firing which still went on from the bank and from a number of the canoes, and which was of greater danger to the enemy than to them, for the range of the enemy’s firearms was inconsiderable. Now, however, a shot attracted their attention. There was a louder report than usual, and a bullet of large size sped from the fleet, and striking the funnel, bored clean through it, the puncture being plainly discernible by the flames and smoke which instantly emerged. Dick started forward, till he was stretched across the after-well, the tip of the tiller in his hand, and almost at once there was a second shot, followed by a heavy thud behind him, and finally by a splash out in the river. He turned to find the tiller loose in his hand, splintered by the missile, the fracture of the shaft having taken place an inch or two in front of the slot cut for it in the rudder. The steering gear was cut adrift, and as he looked at the shaft in his hand the launch went off her course. She shot to the right, away from the enemy, causing a scream of rage to rise from a thousand throats. Then, as suddenly, she swerved to the other side, till those aboard her were almost rolled into the water. She seemed to see the enemy before her, for she took the bit in her teeth, and, with her propeller thrashing the water behind her, went directly towards them, a bow wave splashing up on either hand. And then the tone of the Ashantis changed. Whatever they were, they were men of courage, and not to be frightened by a monster of this sort speeding down upon them. They had, for the most part, never seen a launch before, and those who had, had probably never seen one in full flight. Yet they did not flinch. They stood in their boats, and such a shout of triumph went up that the woods rang and rang again. Then their guns opened with a vengeance, and a perfect storm of missiles hurtled towards the launch. They did not stop her. She did not seem to notice the bullets splashing on either hand and tumbling on her deck. The launch had got out of hand, and as if she were tired of life and roused to desperation by the pressure of steam which she carried, she went on her mad course, rushing down to doom and destruction.
