Wild Life in the Land of the Giants Part 28

Our mercy was excessively meagre in this instance.

These canoes are merely planks of wood fashioned with knives and fire, and lashed together by means of pieces of skin.

It took us no great length of time to dismember them, nor to launch the pieces into the stream afterwards.

"And now," said Ritchie, "the forest itself is our princ.i.p.al danger.

These chaps'll be all about us to-morrow morning early, like bluebottles round a dead mouse: more'll come to help them, and the bush 'll be their cover. We'll fire it. The wind is favourable."

"It really is a pity," I remarked, half seriously, "to spoil this scenery."

"Come," was all my companion added.

So well and willingly did we both work, that in less that half an hour we had fired the forest in five different places. The amount of underwood and of fallen decayed trees was very great, so that the very earth itself would undoubtedly smoulder and burn for days, thus affording us protection from the savages.

I have seen many a conflagration in my time, but none, I think, so awful as that.

So closely did the fire rage around us at one time and so great was the heat, that we were considering whether we should not launch our boat and put out to sea. From the high cliff above us burning branches ever came toppling down, but these were easily removed.

Then the fire receded, and attacked the glen above and around the bay, the crackling and roaring of the flames became indescribable; tongues of fire seeming also to be carried away with the clouds of rolling smoke, as if even that itself were ablaze. Ritchie and I both stood appalled to behold the vastness of the ruin our work had effected.

Long after the flames had left them, and gone over the hill and high up the valley towards the snow-line, the st.u.r.dy arms of the beech-trees stretched out red against a background of black, and every now and then a limb would fall with a loud report, sending up volumes of ashes, smoke, and sparks.

Whether or not on the first outbreak of the fire, the savages had left their fearful orgies and made a rush to the spot where they had left their canoes can never be known. It was evident enough by next morning, nevertheless, that they had found out we were in the bay, and had managed even that night to communicate by signal fires to their companions on other sh.o.r.es and on islands, that white men were about; for as early as dawn canoes were seen off the coast--more and more came, till there was quite a swarm.

We were besieged. The wind might change if it liked, or remain where it was, it could make no difference to us now. To have ventured to run out against such odds would have been to throw our lives recklessly away.

But our position was good.

As we expected, the decayed mould of which, the bottom of the glen and hills was composed--centuries old, perhaps--kept on smouldering, and would do so for weeks. Then the bay was in our front and to our right the open sea.

No, we were safe for a time. But how long would our provisions last?

We made a careful survey, and found that with great economy we had enough for a week or even longer.

When we first appeared in the open, the yelling and menacing of the savages in their canoes was dreadful to hear and behold. For a time Ritchie thought they would cast prudence to the winds and attempt to force a landing.

Two boats did come near enough to fire arrows at us, but they dearly paid for their rashness, and three at least of the Indians would never fire an arrow more.

Long before sundown the enemy had drawn off, and there was not a canoe to be seen anywhere.

"Now would be a chance," said Jill, "if the wind would only change."

Ritchie looked at him and smiled.

"My dear lad," he said, "we wouldn't be two hundred yards beyond the bar before they would be on us. We wouldn't be able to get back, and we'd never get far on in this world. No, that's only a trick, and a very transparent one; just the same as p.u.s.s.y plays with a mouse. But I'm too old for 'em. Drat 'em! Oh, I do love 'em, don't I just?"

He did not look as if he did.

Day after day--two, three, five, went hopelessly by. The weather kept fine, and the wind was now favourable for a sortie if we were at length compelled to run the gauntlet.

We had hoisted a signal on the cliff top in the hopes that pa.s.sing ships might see it and perhaps send to our a.s.sistance. But the ships we saw were a long way off, and noticed not our signal, for we were some distance out of the usual track of vessels.

On the fifth day Jill and I went up stream some little distance through the burnt forest, and Ossian, the dog, found near the bank a guanaco half-roasted. This was indeed a blessing, and we dined more heartily that evening than we had done for a week. We tried fishing, hoping thereby to add to our larder, but were only indifferently successful.

Having neither lines nor bait, we were reduced to the plan called "guddling" by Scottish schoolboys, where you wade and catch the trout with your hands.

Affairs grew desperate on the seventh day, not so much for want of food as from the fact that the ground had ceased to burn, and cooled sufficiently to permit one to walk over the ashes.

A combined attack by land and sea was therefore hourly expected by us, all the more so in that the canoes seemed more active than usual, flitting about hither and thither, but apparently paying no heed to us.

"They're too silent to please me," said Ritchie; "they'll be on us to-night as sure as shot."

On the same afternoon far away out in the Reach we noticed a n.o.ble steamer.

Jill and I stood looking at her until she had gone down out of sight on the horizon. We could easily fancy ourselves on board of her. We could see in imagination the orderly, clean white decks, the burnished bra.s.s and wood, the sailors and officers in their smart uniforms, the chairs on deck where lounged the pa.s.sengers reading, talking, and quietly napping, the officer on the bridge and the st.u.r.dy seaman at the wheel.

It was so sad; and we waiting--to sell our lives as dearly as possible.

That is the last consolation of the brave. And Jill and I had promised ourselves so much, at least.

Jill put such a strange question to Ritchie this afternoon, but I knew what the poor lad was thinking about.

"Ritchie," he said, "do these horrid Indians torture their prisoners if they take any alive?"

"I've never heard they did," was the quiet reply. "And indeed I don't think they have the sense--drat 'em."

The time, we thought, wore all too quickly to a close, and almost as soon as the sun went down in the west, up rose the full moon in the east, and then everything--if not as bright as day--was light enough at all events for the work so soon to commence.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

FIGHTING IN TERRIBLE EARNEST--OUR LAST SORTIE--BACK TO BACK IN CORNISH FASHION.

Long before the sun had set, we had strengthened our bulwarks, and put our little citadel into as good a state of defence as possible, with the materials at our command.

Knowing that sooner or later an attack would come, unless we could communicate with some pa.s.sing ship, Ritchie had been busy for days, and our fortifications now consisted of an outer and an inner rampart of trees. But neither were of great extent, there being but eight of us altogether to defend them; unless, indeed, we counted the dogs, and they were hardly dogs of war. Ossian, however, was an immensely powerful animal, with the strength almost of a young mastiff, and all the agility of the English greyhound. Bruce, on the other hand, made up in sagacity and courage what he lacked in brute force.

Jill had become inordinately fond of the animals; I would not therefore have had a hair of their honest heads touched in anger for all the world. It was evident to me, nevertheless, that as soon as the _melee_ commenced they would join in, unless prevented, and get speared beyond a doubt. I therefore had one of the men to make them secure to the boat early in the evening.

Behind that boat our last stand was to be made, if the worst should come to the worst. It was therefore drawn up opposite to and guarding the entrance to the cave.

We had plenty of ammunition, rifles, revolvers, and boarding pikes, part of a cargo which, as I hinted before, we were taking out to Honolulu.

Short though the time we had been thus closely thrown together, I think we--the men and Jill and I--loved each other like a band of brothers.

There is nothing like danger for cementing the ties of social equality.

Then, we all looked up to Ritchie as to a father almost. As to our captain, at all events, for that he was in reality if not by actual rating.

He was a little, active, and very athletic man, and with a trusty weapon in his hand, I never doubted that he would prove a terrible enemy among even a score of these not over-wholesome Fuegians, or Firelanders, as they are often called. Not but what these savages are hardy enough.

Pa.s.sing ships can scarcely judge of the whole race from the miserable and often puny creatures that are sent out to beg and sell curiosities.

No, if it be any credit to him, I will admit that the Fuegian Indian is as fierce and warlike in his own way as any savage ever I met with. He can be either a lamb or a wild beast, as it suits his purpose. He has but one aim or object in the world, and but one motto: "Kill and eat."

Nor is he a whit particular what he does kill and eat. Is there nothing good to be said for these Indians? Yes, they are fond of their offspring and careful of their comforts, until the children can run.

After that they must look out for themselves, and pick up a dead mouse or a dead bird, wherever they can find it, till they learn to use their bows and arrows. And a Fuegian boy is quite a little warrior by the time he has reached his sixth or seventh year.