Chapter XXIII Fierce Fighting with the Cannibals
Impenetrable darkness! Nothing to be seen.
Not a sound to be heard save now and then the cry of a night bird far below in the forest, or the rustle of a lizard in the now dry grass. He could not tell the time. Morning might already be close at hand, and up from the sea the sun would leap and silver the trees and the clouds.
Kep trembled when he thought that this day would surely be his last, and that the fearful death was yet before him.
List! It is a step that comes softly nearer and nearer. Then he feels warmth on his cheek as some one by his side whispers in his ear. “Hushee. Hush. No speak me.”
Then his bonds are severed with a sharp knife or dagger and he is free though weak and feeble in his knees.
“Are you the beautiful queen?”
“I is Boona. But come alonga me. You too good, vely good a boy to eat. Sides you no fat yet.”
He felt himself being led by a soft, soft hand. Out and away into the blackness of night. Out and away through the flowers of the bushes, and up the crater’s craggy side.
“Run, run, we mus’ be fah, fah away before the sun he shinee again. Run, cause if dey catches we, bof must die. I hab jus’ kill de ugly old queen.”
Despite his gratitude, Kep shivered a little as he thought that the hand which held his was that of a murderess, and that the backs of the fingers might still be stained with human blood. Yet who was he that he should judge of or attempt to weigh the sum of this girl’s guiltiness.
In the days of his real boyhood he had been used to running barefooted in moors and on hills, so he hardly missed the shoes the savages had stolen from him.
Long before daybreak they were fifteen miles at least from Cannibal Mountain, and soon they found themselves on the banks of a broad river.
The queen made Kep rest far up in the green foliage of a vast spreading tree while she herself ran off to find food. She soon returned bringing many kinds of delicious fruits. For a while they rested, then from the bushes close by the river she dragged a light black canoe, and beckoned him to take his seat.
He did so, and next moment the boat was rapidly being paddled down the beautiful river.
Kep was too full of thought to take much heed of the sweet romantic scenery that changed and changed at every bend of the stream. But he observed by looking at the sun and judging the time, that they were not taking the direction in which the Breezy lay. Sometimes, indeed, they were facing directly east.
This was indeed a mystery. But he determined not even to ask the queen, lest he might seem to doubt her goodness and honesty.
Just one question however he asked. Did, he wanted to know, the lovely young queen Boona kill the ugly old one with her own hands.
“Pah! no,” she answered. “I not hab her black blood run ober my hands and spit on my booful dless (dress). No, no, Boona hab plenty fliends in the palace.”
She rose higher in his estimation now. Much higher. He was not sitting near a murderess after all. So now he determined to let things slide. And thinking thus, the boy, just where he sat, dropped into a sound sleep unlike anything he had ever enjoyed before.
We must be done now with the cannibal chief, Gobolohlo. He was tried just there on the beach by drum-head court martial, sentenced, tied to a tree, and a volley of rifle bullets fired into him. His body was left for the ants to pick.
Meanwhile Jack Stormalong was missed, but before an hour had passed his manly voice was heard singing aloud, as he came staggering along, bearing the wild pig on his back.
“Catch Jack,” he said as he flung it down, “leave a bit o’ good food like that to go to waste.”
No trace nor trail had the savages left behind, so Jack Stormalong, who was perfectly at home among savages, retreated once more, while at the same time boats were plying hastily twixt ship and shore and a punitive expedition was being formed.
He was not long in finding a beach-man who knew the stronghold of Gobolohlo and his queens. A bargain was soon struck, and that very night sixty fully armed bluejackets and marines with one maxim were on track and trail of the cannibals, and moving eastwards with all possible speed.
Their route however could not be the same direct one which the savages had taken but a longer and easier.
Kivi, the guide, seemed faithful and honest, but he was very well watched indeed, in case he might lead the party into an ambush.
Luckily the weather kept fine and clear. They were making forced marches.
They passed through or up wide valleys, forded rivers carrying the maxim, and clambered over bare hills and plunged into deep, dark forests.
With them they had brought red paint, beads, calico, sugar, and tinned meats, with trinkets of Birmingham gold and silver, so that though the wild natives would take no silver it was easy to barter for fruit, fowls, or whatever they needed.
The villagers usually retired at first into their sago-palm dwellings, but were afraid to attack, but a present brought them to reason, then they swarmed around the British bluejackets and were only too familiar.
The doctor or Guilford warned their guide to keep strict silence. If he but opened his mouth to speak one word, they told him he would have his tongue cut out.
Sometimes they had to cut down great trees to form bridges across the dark deep streams.
It was a hard and hazardous march, which few save British sailors could have continued with so little sleep.
At one village of unfriendly savages arrows were fired and spears thrown. One of the marines was injured so that it became necessary to stop to fight these wild fellows. After a volley or two, however, they fled howling into the forest. Only after this the watch by night was stricter than ever.
There was but little hope, they knew well, of saving poor Kep, but they were determined to punish the cannibals, and to know the youth’s fate.
One broiling hot day, the sun so fierce that birds with gaping bills sat silent on the boughs, and the very lizards panted, they were suddenly confronted by a tall burly naked savage. He was as much taken aback as the sailors themselves.
He let fly an arrow and then turned and fled. Jack Stormalong and a first-class boy took up the running and kept the savage in sight for miles, till he began to scramble up a high mountain’s side, when they returned.
“Dat am Gobolohlo palace,” said their guide, “all along de mountain top.”
“Hurrah!” cried McTavish, and began singing—
Now’s the day and now’s the hour
See the point of battle lower.
“We may not find the boy,” he said to Guilford, “but I for one feel brimful of fight, and we will at any rate revenge his death.”
They were guided out now on to the open, and after feeding, it could hardly be called dinner, they started away across the moor, for that it was in every respect.
Gobolohlo’s mountain soon came in view, and then the front of battle did begin to lower.
The mountain path seemed alive with wildly gesticulating savages brandishing clubs and spears and shouting.
They formed themselves into all sorts of grotesque attitudes too; they crawled or crept like wild beasts, and one lot on a bit of flat ground stood, one above the other, in a spear-armed pyramid.
“Bring down that top fellow, Jones,” cried Guilford.
Jones was the crack shot of the ship, and one bullet brought the savage’s body right on top of the spears of his comrades.
The pyramid dissolved itself after that, and presently a cloud of these blacks came leaping and yelling down.
Three or four volleys were fired and did good service, but, finding that the rear-guard was pushing on, the marines had recourse to the maxim, and soon scores of cannibals were in a heap, wounded or dead, and the rest were flying for their lives up the mountain side.
There was only one gateway or rent in the mountain top to give admission to the crater, and this was stoutly held.
Showers of arrows came pouring down and several of the Breezy’s men fell.
A charge was made now with fixed bayonets, and the officers’ revolvers begun to do their deadly work.
But in less than ten minutes the gangway, as Stormalong called it, was carried and the enemy were in full flight down into the crater. The bluejackets and marines must follow up their victory till it became a permanent one. This they did with splendid heroism, but the foe had rallied, and at one time it was touch and go with the athlete McTavish and Stormalong. They were completely surrounded, but they stood back to back, and fought like lions at bay, the surgeon with his broadsword, Jack with his great pet cutlass.
It was a grand but terrible sight, and both sides paused, as if by common consent, to witness it.
Here was brawny Scotland and brave England fighting back to back in the same cause, turning round and round as they hung together, and showering their blows like wintry rain.
Guilford declared afterwards that no less than five men were cloven to the shoulders by the claymore of McTavish.
The fight on the side of the cannibals was but feebly sustained after this; and when the maxim was once again brought into play the dusky warriors turned and fled.
They could be seen on the ridge of the crater escaping, and many were shot and their bodies rolled over the hilltop. The whole place was then cleared and sentries set to guard the gangway.
Expecting a night attack, no fires were built, and the men laid themselves down and slept, tired and weary enough, till at last the sun appeared over the rim of the crater and saw them safe.
Their own casualties were but small, though seven poor fellows would never see the chalky cliffs of dear old England again.
These were solemnly borne down to be buried far in the forest shade where no foe would ever find them. The wounded were helped along.
They could find no trace of Kep, except the awful grid on which he was to have been roasted. This they smashed to pieces, the king’s castle was fired, then slowly and sadly the long march back was commenced.
The guide took them a nearer way now. There was little danger from enemies and nothing else to be feared.
McTavish took the very greatest care of his wounded, and on their account solely he would not permit the march homewards to be hurried. The worst cases were carried on litters.
There would have been plenty of time even to collect specimens. But somehow the honest Scot, whose heart was the quintessence of kindness, never once left camp for that purpose.
He had become strangely attached to Kep. He was certainly a lovable lad, and besides there was still the mystery about him which had not yet been cleared up. Indeed, McTavish knowing that any reference thereto appeared to hurt the boy’s feelings, refrained from making any attempt to do so.
When they had reached a spot within about ten miles of the beach shortly before sunset one evening, a halt was called for the night, and the guide, who appeared to know nothing of fatigue, was started on ahead to announce the tidings of their arrival. He was to remain on board as the rest of the track was familiar enough to both McTavish and Jack Stormalong.
All hands were glad of a good night’s rest. The wounded were doing well, and the very worst cases could now walk.
So after breakfast next day, all hands feeling happier now at heart, the journey was resumed beachwards.
McTavish, trudging sturdily ahead of the troop, had just issued from the forest and sighted the Breezy.
She had never looked more beautiful in his eyes, nor had the sunshine on the soft waters, but the flag was flying half mast, and McTavish knew by this that the guide had told the tale of grim fighting and death.
But he started back in amazement to see marching as slowly along the beach as lovers twain, a handsome young gentleman and a gaily dressed brown woman.
“By George!” That is what McTavish exclaimed. But Jack who had just joined him put it stronger.
“By thunder!” he roared, “if that ain’t Charlie Bowser himself, all alive low and aloft, may the winds of heaven split my bally old bags.”
And Kep it was without a doubt, as smiling and as saucy as ever.
He and Boona hurried up to meet the returning heroes, and the shaking of hands and British cheering that ensued was such as had certainly never been heard before on these lonely shores.
“And now,” said Kep, as soon as silence was partially restored, “now Dr. McTavish and Lieutenant Guilford, with your permissions, I will present you to Queen Boona, widow of the late Gobolohlo, whose skeleton now adorns yonder tree stem.”
With much solemnity both officers lifted their caps and bowed with befitting dignity.
“She’s a deuced handsome girl, anyhow,” cried Guilford laughing, and the doctor nodded. He felt very happy now and still more so when Kep handed him a parcel containing his instrument. He laughed at the strange conceit of his boy friend, but willingly tuned up, and so they marched to the boats to the wild skirl of the great Highland bagpipe.
As they passed the tree at the foot of which Gobolohlo expiated his crimes, Kep pointed to the bleached skeleton that rattled in the breeze. It had been wired and fixed up on chains, and above it a large board on which were painted the words—
Here hangs
The mortal remains of King Gobolohlo,
Who was shot for
Murder and Cannibalism,
By
The Crew of His British Majesty’s ship Breezy.
God save the King!
But when Boona smiling curtsied to the skeleton, there was some laughing in the ranks. “Good goodee bye, ole Gobolohlo, goodee bye,” she cried. “I is goin’ back to Queensland. Not mourn long foh you. Pah!”
Then she flung a kiss from her chubby fingers at the grinning skeleton, took Kep by the arm, and marched cheerfully down to the boats.