We buried him just where he lay, between the gnarled roots of a great forest tree, and piled wood over the grave to keep the sneaking jackals at bay.

One morning about two years after this, I was awakened early--indeed it was hardly dawn--by hearing a tremendous uproar and commotion in the camp, with much warlike shouting and beating of those everlasting tom-toms [Note 1].

The king was running about wildly--too wildly, indeed, for his weight-- and was summoning his warriors to arms.

White men were coming to attack the camp!

This was glorious news for me.

But who, or what could they be, or what could they want?

All that day, from far and near, the warriors of Otakooma came trooping into camp. To do them justice they were fond of fighting, and eager for the fray; they loved fighting for its own sake, but a battle with white men was a thing that did not happen every day.

The old men, the women and children, and the cattle were separated from the main or soldier portion of the tribe, and taken westwards towards the distant hills. So it was evident that Otakooma and his people meant business.

What part should I take in the coming fray? I might have fled, and remained away until the victory was secured by the white men, but this would have been both unkind and cowardly. On the other hand, I would not lift a spear or poise a lance against my own people.

That same evening, after all was hushed in the camp, I sought out the king. He looked at me very suspiciously before I spoke.

I sat quietly in front of him on the ground, and explained to him my situation.

He was wise enough to see exactly how I stood, but he told me there was an easy way out of the difficulty. Early in the morning he would chop off my head. He bore me no grudge, he explained, _it was a mere matter of policy_.

"Quite right," I replied, "and, if he chose, he might take my head off then and there. I didn't at all mind; and would just as soon be without a head as with one."

The king smiled, and seemed pleased.

"But," I continued, "you may look at the possession of a head in a different light, so far as your own particular head is concerned. If your people are beaten, you will a.s.suredly lose that head, unless a white man is near to take your part. I will be your friend," I said, "in this matter, and during the battle I will stand by your person and never leave you."

Otakooma was delighted at the proposal, and so we arranged matters to our mutual satisfaction, and I felt glad I had come; I had certainly lost nothing by my candour. No one ever does.

Firing began early in the morning. The battle raged till nearly noon, with dreadful slaughter on the side of the savages, who were finally borne backwards a disorganised mob.

I stuck by the king. He did not fly. He felt safe and said so, but he wept to see his children, as he called them, slain before his very eyes.

Oh! the glad sight it was to me, after all these years, to behold the bold bluejackets, and brave marines, dashing after the foe, gun and bayonet in hand!

But a more joyful surprise awaited me when the battle was over; for the very first man to rush up to me and shake me by the two hands was my dear friend Ben Roberts.

"Nie, old boy!" he cried, "I wouldn't have known you. You've grown a man, and what a savage you do look! And do you know, Nie, what all this fighting has been about?"

"No," I said innocently.

"Why, about _you_!" He almost shouted the last word, and I could see in his honest eyes the tears which he could hardly keep from failing.

Note 1. A tom-tom is a kind of kettle-drum. It is simply a log of wood hollowed out at one end, and a dried skin stretched over it.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

"The sea! the sea! the open sea!

The blue, the fresh, the ever free!"

Proctor.

"England, thy beauties are tame and domestic, To one who has roamed o'er the mountains afar."

Byron.

Yes, all the fighting had been about me.

Our fellows had not lost the battle that day at Zareppa's fort; on the contrary, they had given the Arabs a grievous defeat. I had at first been reported killed, but as I was not found among the dead and wounded, search was made for me more inland, and it was soon elicited that I had been carried away prisoner, and no doubts were left in the minds of my shipmates, that I had died by the torture, in order to avenge the death of the pirate chief.

The old _Niobe_ had been wrecked since my incarceration in the land of the savages. Roberts had been made lieutenant, and it was not until he returned to the sh.o.r.es of Africa, several years after, that he heard from friendly Arabs that there was an English prisoner in the hands of a warlike tribe of savages, who lived almost in the centre of the dark continent. After this my dear friend never rested in his hammock, as he himself expressed it, until he had organised the expedition that came to my relief.

What a delightful sensation it was to me to feel myself once more at sea!

"The glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form Gla.s.ses itself in tempest."

We were homeward bound. I was a pa.s.senger, and we had splendid weather, so everything seemed to combine to make me feel joyful and happy.

Joyful, did I say? why, there were times when I wanted to run about and shout for joy like a schoolboy, or like the savage that I fear I had almost become.

But I could not run about and shout on board a trim and well-disciplined man-o'-war. The very appearance of the

"White and gla.s.sy deck, without a stain Where, on the watch, the staid lieutenant walked,"

forbade, so at such moments I used to long to be away in the woods again, in order to give proper vent to my exultation.

Besides, I had good cause to be staid and sedate. Roberts had heard news that changed the whole course of my life. I was no longer a friendless sailor-boy. My grandfather was dead, and I was the heir to his estate. It was not a very large patrimony, I admit. It was simply a competence, but to me, when I heard it described, it appeared a princely fortune. There would be no longer any need for me to sail the seas. I could settle down in life, or I could choose some honourable career on sh.o.r.e, and, if I was good for anything at all, distinguish myself therein.

Or, stay, I thought, should I become a soldier? "No, no, no," was the answer of my soul. The war was past and gone; even the terrible Indian Mutiny had been quelled at last. To be a soldier in the field was a career worthy of a king's son. To be a soldier, and have nothing to do but loll about in some wretched garrison town, play billiards or cricket, have a day's shooting, English fashion, now and then, be admired by school-misses and probably snubbed by men with more money than brains; no, such a life would not suit me.

I should much prefer, I thought, to stay at home and till my garden.

With my jacket off, my shirt-sleeves rolled up, and an axe or spade in hand, I should feel far more free than playing with a useless sword.

Lieutenant Roberts was about to retire from active service in the Royal Navy, and he had already been promised the command of a ship in the Merchant Service. But before he left England he would, he said, see me, his foster-son, well settled down.

The ship was homeward bound. There was nothing but laughing and talking and singing all day long, for many of the poor fellows on board had not placed foot on their native sh.o.r.es for five long years and more. What a glorious place England must be, I mused, to make these men so happy at the prospect of returning to it. How brightly the sun must shine there!

How blue and beautiful must be the seas that lave her coasts!

So we presently crossed the Line and sailed north, and north, and north.

Past Madeira--and then the brightness began to leave the sky. The wind to me grew chilly, biting, and cruel. The sea became a darker blue, and finally, as we entered the Bay of Biscay, a leaden grey. My hopes of happiness fell, and fell, and fell. Roberts tried all he could to cheer me up, told me of the monster cities I should see, of the ballrooms, of the concert-rooms, and of a mult.i.tude of wonderful things, not forgetting cricket and football.

We sailed past the Isle of Wight with a grey chopping sea all around us, grey clouds above us, a bitter cold wind blowing, and a drizzling rain borne along on its wings.