"Then that accounts for this butchery. They are trying to stop the advance, and these poor people have to suffer. Shut your eyes as long as you can, my lad. I'm hardened."

But d.i.c.k could not. He looked on with dilated eyes and shuddered, for the next three hours were indeed too horrible to relate. Some hundreds of wretched slaves and prisoners were ruthlessly slaughtered, while the mob looked on, gloating. But happily for the white prisoners, there was little noise, only an occasional shriek from some waiting victim. The poor wretches were led to the bowl, and knives were thrust through their cheeks so that they could not utter a sound. Then their heads were forced over the edge of the bowl, and with a sweep of the sacrificial knife they were decapitated.

"It's done with for to-day," at last said the prisoner who had spoken before, addressing d.i.c.k, wearily. "A few score more of these poor people have been killed--men, women and children, and now the last test of all has been carried out. The fetish priests have said that if men who are tied up in the forest and left alone die quickly, the Ashantis will be victorious. If they live for many days the British will succeed. They have put knives through the cheeks of two of the captives and have led them away. It's all very horrible and very terrible. But never fear, things may come right yet. By the way, who is that sallow dog who fights with the Ashantis and advises them? See him there. He is watching and listening."

d.i.c.k did not answer, for James Langdon suddenly emerged from the crowd, where he had hidden himself the better to watch his prisoner. Now, however, he came forward at a run, and stood in front of the man who had spoken.

"Sallow dog, you call me," he cried angrily. "I will tell you who I am.

I am the one who has so far kept you white men alive, and to me you may look for the order which will bring you here again for execution. That is your answer."

He scowled at the prisoner and then went off, giving an order as he left the arena. At once the guards closed round the prisoners, and all were marched away, d.i.c.k being taken back and flung into his hut. He sat down at once with his back to the wall, and his eyes fixed on the door, and for an hour he hardly stirred a finger. Now and again his eyes moved a little, as the light which streamed beneath the door altered, and the shadow of a pa.s.sing man crossed it. Otherwise he allowed nothing to disturb his thoughts.

"I will do it," he said at last, rising to his feet and pacing up and down. "I am strong now, and once away I can live in the forest with ease, for there are plantains everywhere. I will make an attempt this very night, and if I fail, well it will only hasten my death by a very few hours."

"Food and water. Take it!"

The door was thrown open by the man appointed to feed the captive, and a bundle of plantains tossed into the hut. An earthen pot containing water was set down just inside the hut, and then the door was slammed, for the man was in a hurry. Like all the inhabitants of k.u.masi, he was eager to go into the forest to watch the poor wretches tied up there, and to listen to news of the invaders. The guards also, two of whom were set to watch the hut, had their attention distracted on this day, for as d.i.c.k peered through the crevices in the door he could see them gossiping with the pa.s.sers-by, and straying far from the hut. When darkness fell the town was still in a state of agitation, for further news had come of a British victory, and the watch on the hut was even more careless. But the Ashantis had not entirely forgotten their prisoner, as d.i.c.k soon discovered. For as he looked out into the wide street, watching the numerous almost nude figures seated about the fires, and the warriors pa.s.sing to and fro, a gentle grating on the far side of the door warned him that he might expect a visitor. As quick as a flash he crossed the floor and sank to the ground on the far side, where he feigned to be asleep. He had hardly gained this position when the door was burst open, and two men entered, the second bearing a torch.

"Gone! He has escaped! Those dogs have let him go! Ah, no! He is here!"

The half-caste clenched his hands, and turned furiously upon the native bearing the torch, for as he entered, the half light cast by the flame had illuminated only a portion of the hut, and he imagined that the prisoner had gone. Then he caught sight of his figure in the corner, and heaved a sigh of relief.

"Safe!" he exclaimed, with a growl of satisfaction. "Not escaped. That is good. Have we disturbed your sleep?"

d.i.c.k looked up wearily, blinking at the light, and then seeing who it was, and pretending that he had only just discovered the presence of his enemy, he rolled over again, treating him with scorn and silence, as was his custom.

For a little while the half-caste and his attendant stared at him thoughtfully, then they turned and left the hut.

"I felt ill at ease," d.i.c.k heard James Langdon mutter; "I fancied that he had escaped, and I came to see for myself. I can sleep peacefully now if I do not dream of these British."

He clenched his hands again as he moved away, and d.i.c.k heard him muttering still as the door was slammed. Then came the sound of his steps, a fierce kick as he pushed open the door of his own abode, and a sharp crash as he swung it to again.

"Sick and weary," thought d.i.c.k. "His conscience is hurting him, or rather, perhaps, he begins to feel the net closing round him. We shall see. I gave him due warning, and if the time comes I will kill him as if he were a fly. Now for business."

He rose stealthily to his feet and went to the door, where he remained for some minutes staring out into the street, and taking note of the position of his guards. Then he went in succession to some half-dozen tiny peep-holes, which he had diligently bored through the wattle wall of the hut.

"All clear," he said, with a satisfied chuckle. "It's quite dark now, and as these people go to bed early the place will soon be quiet. I'll give the guards a little time to settle down and then I'll move. This is the side for operations."

He went to the wall which faced the hut in which dwelt the half-caste and set to work upon it. Slipping his hand into his sleeve, he produced an angular piece of iron, a fragment of a cooking-pot which he had picked up in a corner of the hut. Many an hour had he spent in sharpening an edge of the fragment upon a stone dug up from the dried mud floor, and now it was as keen as a razor. Holding it firmly in his hand, he swept it slowly and in a circle over the wattle wall, his fingers following the cut. Then he repeated the process, very slowly and very carefully, severing the stems one by one. Like all the habitations in k.u.masi, the prison in which he was incarcerated was built of wattle, woven roughly together, and plastered with mud to fill the interstices. Thus when he had contrived to cut through the stems a large piece of the wall was freed, with the mud still clinging to it.

d.i.c.k swung it open very slowly and peeped out. Then he replaced the section, and once more went the round of the hut, peering in all directions. Not a soul was moving, and even the guards had thrown themselves down beside the log fire disconsolately, for the news received that day was most disheartening.

"Not time to move yet," he thought. "They look quiet enough, but they are not sleepy. I'll wait a little, and then we'll see what happens."

An hour later he swung the section open and stared out. Then he squeezed through the opening and threw himself flat on the ground.

Wriggling a few inches along beside the hut he soon obtained an un.o.bstructed view of the street, and could see the twinkle of the dying embers, with, here and there, a figure crouching over them. There were the guards, too, drowsing near one of the fires, their weapons dangling beside them. A dog barked in the distance, and for a little while a number of the curs which infested the streets of the horrible town set up a chorus of responsive howls, which were more than disconcerting.

One of the guards stirred, while a man who had been crouching over one of the distant fires, no doubt thinking of the fighting in prospect, rose and sauntered along till he arrived near the hut, where he opened up a conversation on the same old subject.

"They are at the Prahsu, these white dogs," he said. "What will be our fortune now? What think you, comrade?"

"How should I know or be able to guess?" was the sulky answer. "Go to our fetish men. Or better, be patient for a little. There are the dogs whom we have bound out in the forest. If they die to-morrow we conquer.

If not--"

"We die. We shall do that. Listen to one of them groaning. Is that the call of a dying man?"

He held up his hand and pointed across the street, and away across the enclosure where the executions had taken place, to the forest beyond, and as he pointed there came the call of a man in pain, strong and clear, and full of power.

d.i.c.k shuddered, while the guards and their visitor became suddenly silent. They had much to think about, and could obtain little comfort from their wise men and soothsayers. The auguries were all against them. Strange things were happening. The tale was abroad that a child had just been born who was able to converse fluently immediately after its birth. Then some falling star had struck the town. And now, the men who had sat so patiently at the coast, were advancing in spite of sacrifices, in spite of a liberal shedding of blood. There was little comfort for the Ashantis. Talking made matters worse. It was better to go to the privacy of one's own hut and brood alone over the trouble.

d.i.c.k heard the stranger bid good-night. Then he watched his figure disappearing. A minute later he was on his feet, creeping across the dark patch of ground intervening between his prison and the next habitation, where James Langdon dwelt.

For a moment we must leave d.i.c.k, while we turn to the leader of the British expedition at the coast, and see what arrangements he had made for the difficult task before him. For this campaign was no trifling affair. It was not an ordinary war, wherein battles of great importance might be expected, with open fields for manoeuvring, but a conflict wherein our troops and their leaders would have to engage with many unexpected difficulties, and meet face to face a danger greater than that offered by the enemy. It was bad enough at the coast, where there were cool, fresh breezes on occasion, though to be sure the place had well earned its name of "the white man's grave," but up-country, in the forest and jungle, with its numerous swamps, its unhealthy exhalations, its damp heat, and its rotting vegetation, there lurked the germs of fever, the worst form of ague, that fell disease which has slain so many men of our race, and with which it may be rightly said our scientists are only now becoming fully acquainted. Its symptoms, its shivering attacks, its racking fevers they know well, as intimately as they can be known; as also the fact that recurrences take place, that many a man long since returned to England has attacks of jungle fever, or whatever he may care to term it. But the method of transmission of this malady to human beings was not so certain a matter, and few knew then rightly how to battle with it. It was, in fact, the enemy to be contended with, and had any one doubted that, he had only to ask at the coast and sum up the number of men and officers already placed _hors de combat_ on its account. This was first and foremost to be a doctors' war, and when all available precautions were taken, it became next a war against forest and jungle, and the foes who might be lurking there.

To reach k.u.masi was no light undertaking, even if no opposition were to be expected, and the decision to advance upon it by land made the difficulty all the greater. It would be hard to say who was responsible for this, though it would seem that those at home, wholly unacquainted with the coast perhaps, were allowed to have a say in the matter. In any case materials were sent out for erecting a light railway, and were disembarked at great cost and labour. And with what result? It was hard enough to cleave a path thirty inches wide through the jungle and forest, let alone one of five feet; while the necessary transport was not forthcoming. And so the railway material lay where it had been landed, while labourers and carriers were employed from amongst the natives, hundreds of whom had flocked to the town owing to the incursions of the Ashantis. Sappers set them their tasks, and as the weeks crept on a path was hewn through the forest in a direct line to the Prahsu. Sometimes open ground relieved the labour, and here and there stations were formed, and food and ammunition collected. At last the bend of the river was reached, and unhindered by the enemy, who were in the vicinity, the sappers bridged it and laid out a little town for the accommodation of the troops and the small escort sent to defend this advance station. Finally the promised troops came, and the advance commenced. Of the force engaged the bulk may be said to have been British, for our native allies, with few exceptions, proved useless cowards. A few men of the a.s.sim tribe made excellent scouts under Lord Gifford, while other natives did like service. But for fighting the majority were hopeless, and very rightly no dependence was placed upon them. Elsewhere, operating from another quarter, was a larger force of more reliable natives, from the Lagos district, close to Benim, under command of Captain Glover, and though their actions were of little service, a small portion of the force was to be heard of later. They were operating on the Rio Volta, the river forming the boundary between the Gold and Slave Coasts.

It must not be supposed that because the Ashantis, who had invaded the protectorate, hesitated to interfere with the working parties hewing a road to the Prahsu and carrying supplies there, they did not come into conflict with our marines and bluejackets who, in many cases, formed the garrison at the depots which had been formed. Those at Dunquah, a place some twenty-odd miles from the coast, had a smart brush with the enemy, while at Abracampa a huge force of Ashantis, numbering ten thousand at least, suddenly surrounded the post. Like so many of the others, it was but a native village, placed in a small natural clearing, and now roughly fortified. The garrison was a very slender one indeed, and yet in spite of that fact they held the enemy at bay, killing very many of them. Time and again the attacks were repeated, till at length reinforcements arrived, and taking the enemy unawares dispersed them with great slaughter. In the enemy's camp numerous rifles, guns, umbrellas and war-drums were found, besides evidences of sacrifices. In fact, wherever the Ashantis had been, grim relics were left behind, all of which only added to the keenness of our men to reach k.u.masi and put a stop to such barbarities.

And now the prospect was brighter. The second battalion of the Rifle Brigade was already _en route_, while the Welsh Fusiliers and the Black Watch were a little way in the rear. On the road also were Royal Artillery, Engineers, Marines, surgeons, Commissariat officers, and war correspondents, amongst the last the familiar figure of G.A. Henty, whose name must be well known to thousands and thousands of boys and grown men, and whose active brain created heroes in every country and clime under the sun.

From Cape Coast Castle the troops marched to Inquabin as a first stage, and from there through various stations, all with more or less unp.r.o.nounceable names, till they came finally to the Prahsu, sixty-nine miles from the sea. There they found Sir Garnet completing his preparations for the march upon k.u.masi. The troops had toiled for the most part in single file along the narrow forest tracks, and they knew that the same work was before them. But they did not know what their leaders had taken to heart; that the forest on the far side of the river might and probably did hide thousands of enemies, and that that tract must be crossed, and the town of k.u.masi captured within the next fortnight. For already there were not wanting signs that the rains were about to commence, and when they set in tracks through the forests would become swamps and narrow streams great swirling rivers. Worse than all, rain and wet soon play havoc with a man, and in a fever-stricken country, such as the land of Ashanti, predispose to an immediate attack.

Having dealt with the movement of the troops, and shown how Sir Garnet and his men had diligently pushed forward to the Prahsu, and had, by dint of bush fighting, and particularly by their actions at Dunquah and Abracampa, driven the Ashantis from the protectorate, we can now return to k.u.masi.

The night was rather dark, but fine. Overhead the stars twinkled, and could be seen through the leaves of the trees which lined the main street. One tree grew in front of each house or hut, and was fetish or sacred. At its roots were placed odd bits of crockery, a rough doll-shaped image, and other objects, all regarded as fetish and likely to lull the anger of the mighty fetish which kept the people in its grip, and which held sway at the execution house and temple to which d.i.c.k had been led.

"If it had been raining it would have been better, perhaps," thought the escaping prisoner. "But I don't know. All depends on the luck I have.

The plan may work well, and our friend may find himself caught in a net of my weaving this time. If so, then I shall not mind the light so much. Now for the chance to enter."

He had crept across the open s.p.a.ce between the two huts, and was now close against the wattle wall behind which James Langdon was sleeping.

As he lay at full length d.i.c.k could hear the ruffian's deep breathing, and when a few minutes had pa.s.sed could catch his mutterings. He stirred, and d.i.c.k heard the soft bed of palm-leaves, upon which he lay, rustle at the movement. But our hero made no attempt at escape, nor did he move from his position. He waited, as calmly as he could, though it was hard to smother his excitement and still the thumping of his heart.

There was so much to be attempted, and such a terrible ordeal to look forward to if he failed. Across his mind's eye flashed the memory of that awful scene close to the bra.s.s sacrificial bowl. The rows of intended victims, forced to look on at the sacrifice, their hunted looks, and the agony on the face of the one about to be sacrificed.

Then there was the mob, with the warriors dancing their wild dance of death and brandishing their weapons; while in the background, smug and complacent, like Nero of old, sat King Koffee, tall and fat, nodding a signal when the moment for execution came. For half an hour, as d.i.c.k crouched in the shadow, the memory of the horrid scene flitted continuously before him. Then he stood up suddenly and clenched his hands together.

"I won't let such things take my pluck away," he said in a hoa.r.s.e whisper. "I'll think of the friends on the river and at the coast.

This brute is responsible for all my miseries, and it is his turn to suffer. He has brought me here. Well, he shall help me to return."

He pulled up the cuffs of his tattered sleeves, as if to prepare for a struggle, then he crept round to the door of the house. There was a native stool there, a heavy article, and he grasped it and lifted it well above his head. Then, without hesitation, he knocked loudly upon the door.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

d.i.c.k STRIKES A BLOW.

Bang! d.i.c.k's knuckles struck the door of the native hut with a sharp rap, and he repeated the knock immediately. Then he listened eagerly for some sound from the sleeper within. There was no answering call, and nothing to denote that the man was there.

"Fast asleep," thought d.i.c.k. "But he is there, I know, for on the far side I could hear his breathing. I'll knock again."

He was in the very act of doing so when out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of one of the drowsy guards who lay beside the dying fire.

The man had, apparently, heard the knock, and had sat up now to see what it meant. Then he sauntered towards the prisoner's hut as if to investigate the matter. The escaping prisoner's heart stood still, while his wits worked rapidly.