Part 26 (1/2)
”W'y, to the last village wot we pa.s.sed through. It ain't more than a day's march, an' I'm sure the old feller as is capting of it would take care o' the lot.”
”There is good advice in that, yet I grudge to go back,” said Harold; ”if there were a village the same distance in advance, I would rather take them on.”
”But there ain't,” returned Disco. ”Hallo! I say, wot's wrong with Tony?”
The interpreter came forward with a look of much excitement as he spoke.
”What now, Antonio?”
”Oh! it's drefful,” replied the interpreter. ”Dey tells me have hear Marizano speak ob anoder slaving party what go straight to Kambira's village for attack it.”
”Who told you that? Are they sure?” asked Harold hastily.
”Two, t'ree mans tole me,” replied Antonio. ”All say same ting. Too late to help him now, me's 'fraid.”
”Never say too late,” cried Disco, starting up; ”never say die while there's a shot in the locker. It may be time enough yet if we only look sharp. I votes that we leave nearly all the provisions we have with these poor critters here; up anchor, 'bout s.h.i.+p, clap on all sail, and away this werry minit.”
Harold agreed with this advice heartily, and at once acted on it. The arrangements were quickly made, the provisions distributed, an explanation made, and in less than an hour the travellers were retracing their steps in hot haste.
By taking a straight line and making forced marches, they arrived in sight of the ridge where they had last seen Kambira, on the evening of the third day. As they drew near Harold pushed impatiently forward, and, outrunning his companions, was first to reach the summit. Disco's heart sank within him, for he observed that his companion stood still, bowed his head, and covered his face with both hands. He soon joined him, and a groan burst from the seaman's breast when he saw dense volumes of smoke rising above the spot where the village had so recently lain a picture of peaceful beauty.
Even their followers, accustomed though they were, to scenes and deeds of violence and cruelty, could not witness the grief of the Englishmen unmoved.
”P'raps,” said Disco, in a husky voice, ”there's some of 'em left alive, hidin' in the bushes.”
”It may be so,” replied Harold, as he descended the slope with rapid strides. ”G.o.d help them!”
A few minutes sufficed to bring them to the scene of ruin, but the devastation caused by the fire was so great that they had difficulty in recognising the different spots where the huts had stood. Kambira's hut was, however, easily found, as it stood on a rising ground. There the fight with the slavers had evidently been fiercest, for around it lay the charred and mutilated remains of many human bodies. Some of these were so far distinguishable that it could be told whether they belonged to man, woman, or child.
”Look here!” said Disco, in a deep, stern voice, as he pointed to an object on the ground not far from the hut.
It was the form of a woman who had been savagely mangled by her murderers. The upturned and distorted face proved it to be Yohama, the grandmother of little Obo. Near to her lay the body of a grey-haired negro, who might to judge from his position, have fallen in attempting to defend her.
”Oh! if the people of England only saw this sight!” said Harold, in a low tone; ”if they only believed in and _realised_ this fact, there would be one universal and indignant shout of `No toleration of slavery anywhere throughout the world!'”
”Look closely for Kambira or his son,” he added, turning to his men.
A careful search among the sickening remains was accordingly made, but without any discovery worth noting being made, after which they searched the surrounding thickets. Here sad evidence of the poor fugitives having been closely pursued was found in the dead bodies of many of the old men and women, and of the very young children and infants; also the bodies of a few of the warriors. All these had been speared, chiefly through the back. Still they were unsuccessful in finding the bodies of the chief or his little boy.
”It's plain,” said Disco, ”that they have either escaped or been took prisoners.”
”Here is some one not quite dead,” said Harold,--”Ah! poor fellow!”
He raised the unfortunate man's head on his knee, and recognised the features of the little man who had entertained them with his tunes on the native violin.
It was in vain that Antonio tried to gain his attention while Disco moistened his lips with water. He had been pierced in the chest with an arrow. Once only he opened his eyes, and a faint smile played on his lips, as if he recognised friends, but it faded quickly and left the poor musician a corpse.
Leaving, with heavy hearts, the spot where they had spent such pleasant days and nights, enjoying the hospitality of Kambira and his tribe, our travellers began to retrace their steps to the place where they had left the rescued slaves, but that night the strong frame of Disco Lillihammer succ.u.mbed to the influence of climate. He was suddenly stricken with African fever, and in a few hours became as helpless as a little child.
In this extremity Harold found it necessary to encamp. He selected the highest and healthiest spot in the neighbourhood, caused his followers to build a rude, but comparatively comfortable, hut and set himself diligently to hunt for, and to tend, his sick friend.