Mass' George Part 74

Upon this we pushed on rapidly, and soon stood in the midst of our lovely clearing, framed in by the forest, where everything seemed more beautiful than ever, except in one place, where, with the strands of creepers already beginning to encroach on the blackened ruins, lay a heap of ashes, with here and there some half-burned timbers and ends of boards.

I felt a choking sensation as I looked at the ruins, and thought of how many pleasant hours I had pa.s.sed there with my father, and now I could only just trace out where the rooms had been, so complete was the destruction the fire had made.

Not that it was surprising, the whole place having been built solidly of the finest pine from the sandy tract between us and the little river-- wood that I knew would blaze up when dry and burn with a fierce resinous flame.

But it seemed so pitiful that the delightful little home, with all the pleasant surroundings, over which my father had toiled to make it as much as possible like an English country home, should have been entirely destroyed. And for what?

Ah, it was a hard question to answer. But I supposed then that as we had come into the land the savages looked upon as their special hunting-ground, they considered that they had a right to destroy.

I tore myself away from the heap of black and grey ashes, and rejoined Morgan, who said nothing, but accompanied me then around the garden, which to our great surprise we found untouched. It was weedy, and beginning to show a great want of the master's hand, but otherwise it looked delightful after the desolation I had just left.

"Seems hard as my part should have escaped, and your part be all burnt up, Master George," said Morgan, slowly. "But it ar'n't my fault. I'd almost rather they'd ragged the garden to pieces, and cut down the trees, than have burnt the house."

"It can't be helped," I said, thankful for the sympathetic way in which the man spoke, and at the same time a little amused at his considering the garden his part, and the house wherein he always lived too as being ours.

We went all round and were on the way to the hut where the blacks slept, when I suddenly noticed that Pomp was not with us, and I drew Morgan's attention to the fact.

"He was here just now, because I saw him stoop down and pick up something to throw at a bird."

"No, no: don't shout," I said. "I dare say he'll be here directly, and one don't know how near the enemy may be."

But Hannibal did not seem satisfied, and he began looking round the garden and peering about close up to the trees in search of the boy, though without success.

I had taken little notice of this, for I had been talking in a low voice to Morgan about the garden, and whether it was worth while to do anything, seeing that beyond a little weeding nothing hardly was required.

"I thought the fences would all be down, and the place trampled, and that I should have to cut rails and stakes to save the place from desolation."

So said Morgan, and I agreed that as far as the garden was concerned we had met with a pleasant surprise.

"We'll have a good meal now," I said. "Let's sit down under the big cypress," and I pointed to the great tree which had proved so good a friend during the flood, and unslinging the bag which he had been carrying, Morgan led the way toward the resting-place.

"Why, Hannibal's gone now," I said, looking round wonderingly. "Oh, I know," I added, laughing; "he heard me say we would have something to eat, and he has gone to look for Pomp."

We were soon comfortably seated with the food spread before us, and as I cut some of the bread and salt pork we had brought, I said--

"It's of no use to go looking out for Indians, I suppose. We must chance their being near."

"If we go looking for them, Master George, we shall have to spend all our time over it. I'm beginning to hope we shan't see them any more."

Then Morgan's mouth became too full for him to talk with comfort, and I'm afraid mine was in a similar condition, for the long row, the fresh air, and the absence of breakfast before starting had had a great effect upon my appet.i.te.

"I wish they'd come now," I said, as I half turned to Morgan, who was leaning forward with his head thrown back in the act of drinking from a bottle, when I felt as if turned to ice--frozen--motionless--gazing up at a great muscular brown arm raised to strike; and I don't know how to explain it, for the s.p.a.ce of time must have been short as that taken up by the flashing of lightning; but all the same, the time seemed prolonged to me sufficiently for me to see that the owner of that arm was half concealed behind the tree; that the hand belonging to that arm held one of the keen little axes used by the Indians; that the blow was intended for my head; and I knew that before I could utter a word to alarm my companion, all would be over.

A good deal to think in that moment of time, but people do see and think a great deal instantaneously, just as they have quite long dreams in a few instants of time; and as I tell you, I thought all that as I saw the raised axe, and I could not stir, though it was in motion to strike me down.

A loud report set me free, the sound of a shot from the forest, and the Indian sprang forward between me and Morgan, turned half round, struck at the air with his tomahawk, then twisted back so that I had a full view of his hideous, distorted face, and then it was hidden from me, for the little axe escaped from his hand, and he fell clutching and tearing at the gra.s.s and leaves.

By this time Morgan and I had seized the fire-locks we had stood against the trunk of the tree, and stooped down to shelter ourselves with its trunk, as we presented the barrels at where we heard some one crashing through the bushes. But it was Han.

"Ma.s.s' George not hurt?"

"No, no," I said. "Did you fire?"

He nodded shortly, and gave me the piece to reload as he picked up the axe the Indian had let fall, and took the savage's knife from his belt to stick it in his own.

"If there's one Indian there's more," said Morgan, excitedly. "Quick, sir, ram the bullet well down. We must make for the boat. Where's that boy Pomp?"

"No," said Hannibal, shaking his head; "gone, gone. Han look for him; saw Indian and Ma.s.s' George."

"And you fired and saved my life," I cried, catching his hand, as I gave him back the reloaded piece.

He smiled at me, and shook his head sadly as I exclaimed--

"Now then to find Pomp, and get back to the boat."

I had hardly uttered the words when there was a yell, and four savages dashed out of the forest toward us, knife in one hand, axe in the other.

They were not twenty yards away, and I raised my heavy piece to my shoulder as I saw Morgan let his barrel fall into one hand and fire.

A hideous yell followed, and one of the Indians leaped in the air. I saw no more for the smoke, but I drew trigger too, and staggered back with the violent concussion of the piece.

Then I stood aghast at what followed, for as the smoke lifted I saw an Indian spring on Morgan, and Hannibal drop the gun he held as the other two Indians rushed at him axe in hand, yelling horribly.

Then in what seemed to me was a nightmare dream, I saw Morgan seize the Indian's hand, and they closed in a desperate struggle, while on my other side Hannibal was battling with two, and I was helpless to a.s.sist either, and--well, I was a boy of sixteen or so, and how could I at close quarters like that try to shed blood?

True, in the excitement of the flight in the boat, I had loaded and fired again and again as the Indians kept sending their arrows at us; but all I could do now was to drop my own piece and run to pick up the one Hannibal had dropped.

But I did not fire it. I could only stand and gaze first at one, and then at the other, as I saw the great calm black now frenzied with rage and the thirst for battle. He was bleeding from blows given by the knife of one Indian and the axe of the other, but his wounds only seemed to have made him furious, and he stood there now looking like a giant, holding one of his enemies by the throat, the other by the wrist, in spite of their writhings and desperate efforts to strike him some deadly blow. He looked to me then like a giant in strength; but the Indians were strong too, and though he was rapidly subduing the one whose throat he grasped, the other was gradually wriggling himself free, when, seizing my opportunity, rendered desperate by the position, I raised the heavy piece I held as if it were a club, and brought the barrel down with all my might upon the Indian's head.

I stepped back sickened by what I had done, as his arm relaxed and he fell p.r.o.ne, while, freed now from one adversary whose axe would the next moment have brained him, Hannibal grasped his remaining enemy with both hands, raised him up, and dashed him heavily upon the earth.

It was time, for Morgan was down, the Indian upon him, his knife raised high to plunge into the poor fellow's throat, but held back by Morgan's hand, which was yielding fast.

I stood paralysed and watching, when, with a roar like a wild beast, Hannibal dashed at this last man, and with the axe he had at his waist struck him full in the temple, and he dropped down sidewise quivering in death.

I remember thinking it very horrible as I saw all this bloodshed, but I knew it would have been far more horrible if the savage wretches had killed us. Then every other thought was driven out of my head by the appearance of Hannibal, who was quite transformed. As a rule he was the quiet, gentle-looking black, always ready to obey the slightest command; now he seemed to tower up a ferocious-looking being, with wild glaring eyes looking about for something else to destroy, and had I not caught hold of his arm he would have used the axe he held on the fallen men.

"Under cover, my lad," said Morgan, who was panting heavily. "Don't leave that gun. Now Hannibal, quick!"

He led the way in among the trees, where we quickly loaded the discharged pieces, crouching down under bushes, while Hannibal knelt beside us keeping watch, his wild eyes glaring round in every direction for some fresh enemy to attack.

"Nice--narrow--escape that! Master George," said Morgan, in a low voice, as he gave the ramrod a thud between every two words. "Pretty object I should have looked if I'd had to go back to your father and say you were killed by the Indians. Oh dear! Oh dear! I did hope I'd done killing people to the end of my days, and now look yonder."

"It was forced upon you, Morgan," I whispered, as I finished charging one of the pieces.

"Upon me!" cried Morgan. "Oh, come now, Master George, play fair.

Don't get putting on all down to my account. My word! Who'd have thought old Hannibal here could fight like that?"

The great black looked fiercely round, but smiled sadly as Morgan held out his hand and said--