The Adventures of Don Lavington Part 82

CHAPTER FORTY.

DEFEATED.

Two minutes at the outside must have been the lapse of time before the last spear held up in defence of the _pah_ was lowered by its brave owner in weakness, despair, or death.

Tomati's men fought with desperate valour, but they were so reduced that the enemy were four to one; and as they were driven back step by step, till they were huddled together in one corner of the _pah_, the slaughter was frightful.

Stirred to fury at seeing the poor fellows drop, both Don and Jem had made unskilful use of their weapons, for they were unwillingly mingled with the crowd of defenders, and driven with them into the corner of the great enclosure.

One minute they were surrounded by panting, desperate men, using their spears valorously, as the Greeks might have used theirs in days of old; then there came a rush, a horrible crowding together, a sensation to Don as if some mountain had suddenly fallen on his head to crush out the hideous din of yelling and despairing shrieks, and then all was darkness.

It was still darkness, but the stars were shining brightly overhead, when Don opened his eyes again to begin wondering why his head should ache so terribly, and he should feel so cold.

Those thoughts were only momentary, for a colder chill ran through him as on both sides of where he lay a low moaning sound arose, as of some one in pain.

"Where am I?" he thought. "What is the matter?"

Then he realised what had happened, for a familiar voice said almost in a whisper,--

"Poor little Sally! I wish she was here with a bit of rag."

"Jem!"

"Mas' Don! Oh! Thank the Lord! Amen! I thought--I thought--Oh! Oh!"

A choking sensation rose in Don's throat, for he could hear close beside him the brave, true fellow sobbing like a woman.

"Jem! Jem, old chap!" whispered Don. "Don't, pray don't do that."

"I'm a-trying not to as hard as ever I can," whispered the poor fellow hoa.r.s.ely; "but I've been bleeding like a pig, Mas' Don, and it's made me as weak as a great gal. You see I thought as you was dead."

"No, no, Jem; I'm here safe, only--only my head aches, and I can't get my hands free."

"No, my lad, more can't I. We're both tied up, hands and legs."

"But the others? Where is Tomati?"

"Don't ask me, my lad."

"Oh, Jem!"

There was a few minutes' awful silence, during which the low moaning sound went on from different places close at hand.

"Where is Ngati?" whispered Don at last.

"Half killed, or dead, Mas' Don," said Jem, sadly. "We're reg'lar beat.

But, my word, Mas' Don, I am sorry."

"Sorry? Of course."

"Ah! But I mean for all I said about the poor fellows. I thought they couldn't fight."

"The women and children, Jem?"

"All prisoners, 'cept some as would fight, and they--"

"Yes--go on."

"They served them same as they did those poor chaps as wouldn't give in."

"How horrible!"

"Ah, 'tis horrid, my lad; and I've been wishing we hadn't cut and run.

We was better off on board ship."

"It's of no use to talk like that, Jem. Are you much hurt?"

"Hand's all cut about with that pistol busting, and there's a hole through my left shoulder, as feels as if it had been bored with a red hot poker. But there, never mind. Worse disasters at sea, Mas' Don.

Not much hurt, are you?"

"I don't know, Jem. I can remember nothing."

"Good job for you, my lad. One of 'em hit you over the head with the back of a stone-chopper; and I thought he'd killed you, so I--"

Jem ceased speaking.

"Well, go on," whispered Don.

"That's all," said Jem, sullenly.

"But you were going to say what you did when the man struck me."

"Was I? Ah, well, I forget now."

Don was silent, for Jem had given him something terrible to dwell upon as he tried to think.

At last he spoke again.

"Where are the enemy, Jem?"

"Enemy, indeed!" growled Jem. "Savages like them don't deserve such a fine name. Brutes!"

"But where are they? Did you see what they did?"