Kitabı oku: «With Wolseley to Kumasi: A Tale of the First Ashanti War», sayfa 8
Chapter Eight.
Besiegers and Besieged
It was intensely dark in the clearing, as our hero struck into it, but by contrast with the shadows in the depths of the forest it was light, so that he could see a few feet before him. He could distinguish vaguely the outline of the rocky crest near the summit of which the stockade was posted, and beyond it and to one side the dull black band of the encircling forest. In one direction there was a faint glimmer in the sky, the herald of the rising moon, while a glare rose above the stockade, not intense, to be sure, but sufficient to tell him that a fire was burning there.
“Then they are not alarmed,” he whispered, in tones of delight. “They are cooking their evening meal, which reminds me that I am hungry and thirsty, too. I must move on. Hullo!”
He fell like a stone, and lay with his body pressed close to the ground, for his ear caught a sound, and his eye detected a figure on his right. In that semi-darkness it looked huge and weird in shape, and might have been an ox or any other animal. But the low tones of men talking showed him that it must be the enemy, and caused him to grip his sword with extra determination.
“Hoot! Hoot!” Once more he heard the call of the night owl, the same cry as had awakened him when ascending the Pra, and which had aroused his suspicion. It seemed certain that this was the signal commonly used by the Ashantis, just as it had been for many and many a year by the Red Indians of America. “Hoot! Hoot!”
The call was repeated, and almost at once, from a point but a few yards nearer to the stockade, came the answer, “Hoot! Hoot!” Then the men advanced, and halted close to their comrade, while a few words of direction passed. Dick could with pleasure have dropped through the earth, so great was his dismay and consternation. Then he could have shouted with delight.
“Just a bit of sheer good fortune,” he thought. “Here was I advancing right on to one of the enemy, and these fellows gave me a warning. Very well. The hoot of the owl is the signal, and why should I not make it? Why should I not follow these beggars on their rounds? They will be visiting the sentries, and I shall then know where all are. I will go a little way with them, and then slip through between two of the men.”
It was a brilliant idea, and he set about carrying it out at once. He lifted his head and kept watch on the natives, while he listened to their conversation. Not that he could hear the words, for these men were experienced warriors, and they knew that a whisper carried far on such a still night. They conversed in the lowest of tones, and then moved on. “Hoot! Hoot!” The weird call again broke the silence, and was responded to. Then the native chiefs who were going the rounds moved on, and after them crept Dick, as silent and stealthy as a snake, one hand placed before the other, groping the ground to see that it was clear of twigs or other material which might betray his presence. Then the other would follow, and afterwards his knees would be drawn up beneath him, and he would repeat the whole process. “Hoot! Hoot!” There it was again. A third sentry had been approached, but Dick could not see him even though he was so close.
“Which shows me clearly how difficult the task is,” he thought. “But for those fellows going the rounds I should have walked right on to this batch of sentries, and then there would have been a row. Hullo! Some one else is on the alert.”
He could have laughed, for as the natives went on their way and repeated their signal, the Ashanti miners in the stockade must have carefully listened. Then they thought they espied the enemy, standing against a piece of open ground which happened to be exceptionally light in colour. Suddenly a single shot rang out, the detonation startling every one, and making our hero jump. For a single instant the stockade became outlined, and Dick thought he saw heads peeping up above the baulks of timber. Then all was darkness again and silence, save for the hoot of the native chief and the answer of the sentry.
“Time to be moving on,” thought Dick. “I have barely half an hour in which to reach friends, and now is my opportunity. These fellows here will have their attention distracted by the call of their comrades going the rounds. I may manage to get through. In any case I shall chance it, and if I am discovered I shall make a dash for the stockade. I suppose I shall have to run the chance of being shot, for how can my own men know that I am not one of the enemy? That also I must risk. Anything better than to be out here alone.”
Inch by inch he made his way across the open in the direction of the hill, his eyes turning from side to side, while he halted every minute. He was quite cool now. The imminence of his danger, the knowledge that there were enemies very near and on either hand, seemed to have braced his nerves. His heart had ceased to thump like a sledge-hammer against his ribs, while he could no longer feel his pulses beating and throbbing till it was almost painful. He had need of every faculty, of coolness and courage, and he did not mean to throw away a chance. Hush! A man, the sentry on his right, sat up suddenly, and as Dick crouched he could see that the fellow was listening. He had heard something which had aroused his suspicions, and with all the keenness of a native for the chase he would probe the matter to the bottom, he would not be satisfied to rest till he had cleared up the mystery. “Hoot! Hoot!” He sounded the signal, and for an instant our hero’s heart failed him. Should he answer? Was he seen?
“Yes, I believe he has heard me,” he thought. “He wonders who I am. I will answer. Hoot! Hoot!”
In very low tones he gave the call, and waited eagerly for what was next to happen. Then he gave vent to a sigh of relief. The man was deceived. He took this other figure for a comrade, and imagining that he was too close, and that the circle would be too open on the farther side, he rose to his knees and crawled to the right, till he was out of sight and hearing. After that Dick waited no longer. He crept forward, stealthily and slowly at first, till he was yards nearer the stockade. Then he increased the pace till he judged that he was clear of the inner line of sentries, and almost within hailing distance of his friends. But still he would not neglect the precautions he had decided were necessary.
“I feel inclined to jump to my feet and make a bolt for it,” he thought. “But no, that wouldn’t do, and I might easily be shot from the stockade. Slow and sure, said the tortoise, and I’ll stick to the motto.”
None but those who have been placed in a similar position can fully appreciate the temptation to which he was put, the huge desire which took hold of him to rise to his feet and run. Dick felt as the man does who is in full view of the rifles of unscrupulous marauders, without cover for many yards, uncertain whether to expect a hail of bullets or not. A sense of dignity, the feeling that it would not be courageous to run, holds one steady; but the temptation is there. There is a queer little feeling in the small of the back, and if one does not run, and conquers the temptation to act as a craven, one longs to look round, to make sure that no violence is about to be attempted. That was how our hero felt, and who will blame him? He was so near a refuge and friends now, and seemed clear of the enemy. It would be so easy to run. However, he stuck to his motto, and, still remaining on his knees, slowly crept closer to the stockade.
Hist! Something caught his ear, and he sat down to listen for some minutes till he felt sure that he was mistaken. Then he crawled on again, till of a sudden he swung round, and, with a cry of dismay, leaped to his feet. There was a man following him, a figure bent almost double, silently coming up with him. Had he but known, it was the identical sentry whose signal he had answered and who, still suspicious, had returned on his tracks. He was within three yards when Dick saw him, and the cry had hardly left his lips when the man was upon him.
With all the ferocity of a tiger he leaped at his enemy, native sword in hand, and as the fingers on his left hand closed on Dick’s shoulder, the murderous weapon swooped upwards in a stroke meant to transfix his body. But again the white man had good fortune. His guardian angel seemed to be on the watch that night, for the point caught the sling of his rifle, and turning aside the whole blade flashed beneath his arm till the hand which held it came with a thud against his side.
“Dog!” shouted the man, thinking he had accomplished his purpose.
Dick made no answer. He knew that if he did not hold that arm which gripped the sword he was as good as dead, and quick as lightning he took the only step to retain it. As the blade flew beneath his arm, and the man’s hand crashed against his side, he brought his own arm down, jamming the native’s hand there. Then he shook his hand from his shoulder, and lifting his own blade, plunged it with all his force into his enemy’s breast.
Hardly had the man fallen at his feet, when a series of shouts rang out, rifles blazed from the stockade, and ere he could move half a dozen natives were upon him. For Dick had made one miscalculation. He had forgotten that he was dealing with men who were from their youth trained as warriors, men accustomed to the trail, to forest warfare, and to every form of artifice. He had not recollected that these Ashanti fighters had the acutest hearing and phenomenal sight, and he, a mere white man, accustomed to city life, had imagined that he could creep through them. Bitterly was he mistaken, for one had first suspected the presence of an enemy and had then followed, while a comrade, discovering the fact in some subtle manner, had come on his tracks, five others following. Gradually they had gained on the chase, so that when Dick struck their leader down the rest were almost on him. Again there was a shout, taken up by a score of voices around the clearing, and in a second a fierce hand-to-hand contest had commenced.
“The white man! The white man! Take him alive! Do not kill him!”
It was James Langdon’s voice, coming from close at hand, for the news that some one was astir had been sent to him and he had followed.
“I give you all warning. Do not slay him, if you value my friendship.”
It was a fortunate thing for our hero, but not so for the natives. Flinging their arms aside they sprang forward to bear him to the ground. But if they had orders not to harm him, he had no scruples in killing them. The fear of captivity and of its consequences was before him. He struck out blindly with his sword, and when that was jerked from his hand he opened fire with his revolver, his shots punctuating the shouts of his opponents. But it was a one-sided engagement, and the darkness was against his chances. Already he had almost been borne to the ground by a huge native, who had leaped on his shoulders. But a sudden turn, the shortening of his pistol arm, and a quick and effective shot, had relieved him of the burden. Then two of the enemy had snatched at his legs, while a third aimed for his back, and missed it by the merest chance. He was about to spring again, while others were there now prepared to take his place should he not succeed. Dick was helpless. He had fired his last cartridge, and though he used the butt of the revolver and his fist, he was already outmatched. The end came quickly. The native behind him caught his rifle in both hands, and then put out all his strength. Dick lost his balance, and dragged by the sling was soon in a heap on the ground.
“Captured! We have him! Tie his legs and carry him off before the other dogs can come!”
There was such a hubbub that the words were hardly heard; but the Ashantis knew what was required of them. They slipped a noose over his hands and shoulders, and were drawing it tight when there was a rush of feet in their direction.
“Dere! Dey here. Come long! Fire!”
Dick could not believe his ears. He was already being dragged away, when Johnnie’s voice broke upon his ear. Then a number of dark figures burst in upon his captors, and a fierce conflict began.
“Here I am. This way!” he shouted, as he struggled with the enemy. “Here! Over here!”
The gallant fellows from the stockade raced after him, Johnnie being at their head. In his hands he held a rifle, and without doubt it was his frantic wielding of this weapon which saved the situation. With a crash the stock fell upon the head of the native who had hold of our hero, causing him to fall. Another movement and the same fate overtook another. There was a scream of alarm, a few heavy blows struck by the knives of the men, and Dick was free, unharmed, and in their midst, boiling over with gladness and exultation. They picked him up as if he had been a child, and bore him in triumph to the stockade.
“Bang de door,” said Johnnie, taking upon himself the command of the station. “Now, yo men, jest put de massa down – so. Not throw him down, silly!”
Utterly oblivious of the fact that the Ashanti gold-miners could not understand, he gave his commands in a tone of comical haughtiness which at another time would have caused Dick to roar with laughter. This was, indeed, a new side to Johnnie’s character. But our hero was to learn more.
“Now man de walls, and shoot dem debils down,” shouted Johnnie, taking his rifle and running to an aperture. “Dat so. You quite understand. Den me see to massa.”
He was delighted to have him back, safe and sound, and stood there wringing his hand till it seemed that he could never stop. However, Dick was a practical fellow, and it was a long time since he had been in the stockade.
“Food and something to drink, Johnnie, like a good fellow,” he cried. “Run along and see what you’ve got, while I take a look outside. Now,” he said, when he had reached the walls and had discovered the position of the chief of the miners, “what is your report? Any sign of them?”
“They have gone back to their posts. We knew that they were watching, and we almost expected an attack. We were looking for you too, chief. You can leave us to guard the place till you are ready to come back to the walls. Go and eat, for you must be hungry.”
Dick undoubtedly was, and fell to eagerly upon the good things which were placed on the folding wooden table in the hut. For Johnnie was general caterer as well as stoker, and in addition, it seemed, commander of the post at a pinch. He placed a bottle of water near at hand, some yams, and a cut of tinned beef, and on these our hero fell.
“Yo’s make de most of dem water,” said Johnnie, as he watched his master drink, for it had been a hot day, and never a drop of fluid had Dick been able to touch. “Make de most of him, for dere little more. De jars nearly dry, and where we fill dem again? So drink him to the velly bottom.”
“What! No water in the place! Run out already!”
No wonder that he was again dismayed, for Dick had such a young head upon his shoulders that he could not be expected in a matter of a couple of months or more to correct all the faults committed by his predecessor. True, the site of the stockade was excellent in nearly every respect, for it commanded a wide, open space on every side, and could not be fired into from the crest above. It boasted a moderate amount of shade, for there was a small group of trees within the compound, and in addition, it enjoyed a delightful breeze, which kept it cool, and drove the fever away. It had its failings, however. It could not stand a siege, for the simple reason that it was perched well up above the stream in which the gold was washed, and there was no well. A store of water was carried up every day, and that store had disappeared with rapidity since the miners had taken post at the stockade.
“I ought to have thought of that before. We should have had a tank or something of the sort,” cried Dick, with vexation, quite forgetful of the fact that the nearest point at which such a thing could be obtained was Elmina.
“Yo’s dink him up and smack de lip,” said Johnnie. “No use make fuss now dat dere no water left. Hab to leave den, dat’s all. Get way into de forest.”
“And meet these two hundred Ashanti warriors. No, thank you, Johnnie. Come, tell me how all this has happened. I was away in the forest, and thought I heard the alarm sounded. Then there were shots, and when I came to the clearing and could see, there were bodies lying around, and you were holding the enemy in check. I heard then that two hundred more are expected, and waited till a double ring was thrown round us. Then I came on. And that reminds me. It was a plucky rush you made, and just saved me. Thanks, very much.”
“Noding, massa. We wait and we expect yo come. We guess you not seen by de rascal enemy, and we know yo not rush here when it light. De moon coming up. See um. Den we guess you come jest after it get dark. We get ready, and den rush. Simple as eatin’.”
“And about the alarm?”
“Not so simple,” was the candid answer. “Johnnie seem to tink dere trouble coming. Eber since he meet de Ashanti war men he say, ‘dere ruction ahead, dere goin’ ter be smash up of de mine.’ Johnnie look out from de hill when massa gone, every single day, and sit dere waitin’ wid de tom-tom. Lucky, too, massa, for we not hab velly much time. Me see black chap come out of de tree, and den dat half-white man who fight us before. Johnnie beat de tom-tom till all de miners hear. Den he run to the stockade and pick up de rifle. He see first one and den all de men racing in, and after dem de enemy. Dey rush right up to de gate. But Johnnie stop um.”
The comical little fellow turned his eyes up to the moon and squinted at Dick. He threw his chest out, stood to his fullest height, and put on an air of dignity.
“How?” asked Dick.
“Like dis. De men run in de gate, and de last man bang um to and bolt um. Den we stand at the peephole and wait. Two of de rascal come runnin’, and Johnnie take good aim. Bang! When me look ’gain both lying on de face, dead’s muttin’.”
“And you took command of the stockade?”
“Y’s guessed right, massa. Me hold de reins. Me shout de orders, and de men brave and behabe demselbes. We fire slow and careful, same as massa tell us, and we still plenty cartridge left.”
“And practically no water. That is the most serious news, and makes it impossible to remain for long where we are. How long will the moon be up, Johnnie?”
“Soon down,” was the answer. “In four hour, I tink.”
“Then we will consult with the chief. Fetch him along, Johnnie.”
Dick strolled out into the compound, and having made sure that all was quiet and that the men were alert, he took his seat close to the gate, with Johnnie and the two chief miners beside him. It was a strange place and a stranger hour to have a meeting, and as remarkable, too, was the fact that Dick could only just make himself understood and gather the meaning of the natives, while Johnnie was useless at the task. Still, Dick was able to act as interpreter, for he could speak a little Fanti, and there is only slight difference between that and the Ashanti dialect. Tersely the young leader of the party told his news, how he had overheard the half-caste, and how two hundred Ashanti warriors were expected.
“They will eat us up,” said the chief, with an involuntary shudder when he heard what Dick had to say. “They will pour like a river up to the gates of the stockade, and we shall not stop them. They will swarm over, and we shall be slain.”
“While if we are successful during the day they would certainly succeed at night, chief. Then there is the question of the water.”
The chief shook his head dolefully.
“We are as good as dead,” he said, “and glad I am that one can meet with death only once. As well sally out now and end the matter.”
“And be shot down like birds,” was Dick’s answer. “But I agree that the situation is serious. We should be better off were we out in the forest, for there we could divide and scatter. Again, we could make for the launch and steam down the river.”
“If it were possible,” cried the chief, with a look of hope in his face. “But how to get away? These foxes close round us. They know that we are secure, for who could leave the stockade now?”
“I got in safely, thanks to your rush. Why can we not get out again? Can you think of nothing? Come, man, we must make an effort.”
But it was useless. The chief of the miners could make no suggestion. He and his men were ready to follow their leader to the death, and he could rely upon their courage. But they could offer no plan of escape. They came of a race noted for its ferocity and courage, a race trained to arms, but they were more inclined to the ways of peace.
“Then I will tell you what I think,” said Dick, when many minutes had passed, and the four had stared silently at one another as they sat in the rays of the moon. “We agree that death waits for us here, whether by the knives of the enemy or by water famine. Then we must go. The question becomes when and how? I will tell you. We must distract the attention of these men, and this is how I propose that we shall do it. First of all, however, are there any here who can creep like a snake through the grass and so escape discovery?”
The chief threw his head up proudly. “That is one of the first lessons we learned as boys,” he said. “There is not a man here who cannot do that.”
“Then this is my plan. As we sit here, the launch lies straight over the crest of the hill where some of the enemy crouch. I believe that so far our boats are undiscovered, and that being so, the enemy will not expect us to take that direction, seeing that it is the roughest and the steepest. It would be natural for us to strike to right or left of the stockade, for the attack has been in the very centre.”
There was a grunt of acquiescence as Dick paused to look at the chiefs.
“Our chief speaks wisely for one so young,” said the leader. “But we know him now, and can expect good advice. Say on.”
“We decide, then, to flee by way of the crest. Then we must make a demonstration in the opposite direction. We will choose that to our right, being the farthest from the crest. We will send out four of our best and most active men just after the moon disappears, with orders to get as close as possible to the enemy and then fire on them. These men will retire within five minutes, when they will be joined by more who also will fire. We will move swiftly from right to left and back again, and the men can be so disposed that there will be no danger of hurting one another. That should alarm the enemy, and, in any case, it will attract the attention of those in that quarter.”
“They will take alarm and think that we are attempting to break through. They will call in all the men,” said the chief, with assurance. “I begin to follow your meaning.”
“While the firing is going on two of our number who are accounted brave” – Dick noticed that the chief again tossed his head into the air – “will creep to the top of the hill and over it. They will be given a quarter of an hour to see that it is clear. They will not be satisfied till they have killed the sentries or shown that they are absent. Then one will return with the news.”
“And the whole party will follow him,” burst in the chief, eagerly.
“Hardly that,” said Dick. “They are still out in the open, and they must retire. Even then the ruse might be discovered if the firing were not continued. The enemy would suspect a ruse and would send out to intercept us.”
“Then what is your plan, chief?” asked the native, his curiosity aroused to the fullest. “The men retire and keep up the firing, you have a man on the crest and the report that all is clear. Surely there will be no need for delay. Haste, rather, is what is called for.”
“Quite so,” agreed Dick, quietly. “The men retire, and as they pass into the stockade they each take up a bundle of gold dust, for it would never do to leave our profits to these robbers. Then, led by the man who has descended the ridge, the miners will creep over the crest and descend the hill. They will make for the track in the forest, and will gain the boats as soon as possible. Arrived there, they will get the fire going aboard the launch, hook on one of the boats, or two if they are necessary, and wait for their comrades. I said that one of the latter would be the scout who lay on the crest.”
“That man will be myself,” said the chief, calmly. “A leader should always take the post of danger and protect his men. We are not warriors, but we know how to act.”
“You have proved it already. You will be one of those two. I shall be the other. No. Do not let us argue. Your own words prove that I have taken the proper course. As leader, I remain till all are gone, and I shall keep up a fire with my rifle till all are clear. Then I will take steps to prevent these robbers from carrying off even a stick of firewood, and will rejoin you on the hill. Afterwards we will fight our way to the boats.”
He could see their eyes gleaming there in the moonlight as only the eyes of a dark-skinned man can gleam. The plan pleased them, that was clear, for when Dick had explained it to them to the best of his ability, all in turn gave expression to their approval with grunts, the meaning of which was undoubted. All seemed to think that they were in a very dangerous position, and that if this plan would not help them then nothing would.
“Better to die sword in hand than at the stroke of a vile executioner,” said the chief. “We could sally out and surrender. But would that help us? We should be well received and well fed. The march to Kumasi would be by easy stages, and then the trouble would commence. Better to die as brave men, than to be slain as cravens, with our arms bound to our backs.”
There was undoubted truth in the statement, and the knowledge of it heartened them all. They would behave as brave men, and would meet this danger with daring. If they prospered, well and good; if not, then they would not live long to mourn the misfortune.
“And at any rate, I shall have made sure that that robber, James Langdon, does not reap any advantage,” said Dick. “The men will take every ounce of gold, and if hard pressed will open the sacks and scatter the dust. As for the place itself, the half-caste shall not find a home ready built for him should he elect to take up the work of gold-mining. He shall find the land as it was, clear of all houses.”
There was a look of determination on his face. He rose, gripped each of the chiefs by the hand, and went forward to speak to the men, for time was pressing. In an hour the moon would wane, and in two it would be time to set out. Better make the attempt at the earliest moment, and so have ample time for escape.
