Part 19 (2/2)

”Wot a brute it is,” said he to himself, ”I'll circ.u.mvent it yet, though.”

Presently, he rose and made as if he had abandoned the chase, and were about to return the way he had come; but, when he had effectually concealed himself from the view of the pig, he made a wide detour, and, coming out suddenly at a spot higher up the mountain, charged down upon the unsuspecting animal with a yell that would have done credit to itself.

The pig echoed the yell, and rushed down the hill towards the cliffs, closely followed by the hardy seaman, who, in the ardour of the chase, forgot or ignored his aches and pains, and ran like a greyhound, his hair streaming in the wind, his eyes blazing with excitement, and the spear ready poised for a fatal dart. Altogether, he was so wild and strong in appearance, and so furious in his onset, that it was impossible to believe he had been half dead little more than an hour before, but then, as we have before remarked, b.u.mpus was hard to kill!

For nearly half an hour did the hungry seaman keep up the chase--neither gaining nor losing distance, while the affrighted pig, having its attention fixed entirely on its pursuer, scrambled and plunged forward over every imaginable variety of ground, receiving one or two severe falls in consequence. b.u.mpus, being warned by its fate, escaped them.

At last the two dashed into a gorge and out at the other end, scrambled through a thicket, plunged down a hill, and doubled a high rock, on the other side of which they were met in the teeth by Henry Stuart at the head of his band.

The pig attempted to double. Failing to do so, it lost its footing and fell flat on its side. Jo b.u.mpus threw his spear with violent energy deep into the earth about two feet beyond it, tripped on a stump and fell headlong on the top of the pig, squeezing the life out of its body with the weight of his ponderous frame, and receiving its dying yell into his very bosom.

”Hilloa! my stalwart chip of old Neptune,” cried Henry, laughing, ”you've bagged him this time effectually. Hast seen any of the n.i.g.g.e.rs, or did you mistake this poor pig for one?”

”Ay, truly, I have seen them, and given a few of 'em marks that will keep 'em in remembrance of me. As for this pig,” said Jo, throwing the carcase over his shoulder, ”I want a bit of summat to eat--that's the fact; an' the poor children will be--”

”Children,” cried Mr Mason, eagerly, ”what do you mean, my man; have you seen any?”

”In course I has, or I wouldn't speak of 'em,” returned Jo, who did not at first recognise the missionary, and no wonder, for Mr Mason's clothes were torn and soiled, and his face was bruised, bloodstained, and haggard.

”Tell me, friend, I entreat you,” said the pastor earnestly, laying his hand on Jo's arm, ”have you seen my child?”

”Wot! are you the father o' the little gal? Why, I've seed her only half an hour since. But hold on, lads, come arter me an I'll steer you to where she is at this moment.”

”Thanks be to G.o.d,” said Mr Mason, with a deep sigh of relief. ”Lead on, my man, and, pray, go quickly.”

b.u.mpus at once led the way to the foot of the cliffs, and went over the ground at a pace that satisfied even the impatience of the bereaved father.

While this was occurring on the mountain slopes, the pirates at the foot of the cliffs had discovered the three children, and, finding that no one else was near, had seized them and carried them off to a cave near to which their boat lay on the rocks. They hoped to have obtained some information from them as to what was going on at the other side of the island, but, while engaged in a fruitless attempt to screw something out of Corrie, who was peculiarly refractory, they were interrupted, first by the yells of b.u.mpus and his pig, and afterwards by the sudden appearance of Henry and his party on the edge of a cliff a short way above the spot where they were a.s.sembled. On seeing these, the pirates started to their feet and drew their cutla.s.ses, while Henry uttered a shout and ran down the rocks like a deer.

”Shall we have a stand-up fight with 'em, Bill?” said one of the pirates.

”Not if I can help it--there's four to one,” replied the other.

”To the boat,” cried several of the men, leading the way, ”and let's take the brats with us.”

As Henry's party came pouring down the hill, the more combatively disposed of the pirates saw at a glance that it would be in vain to attempt a stand, they therefore discharged a scattering volley from their pistols, (happily without effect,) and, springing into their boat, pushed off from the sh.o.r.e, taking the children along with them.

Mr Mason was the first to gain the beach. He had hit upon a shorter path by which to descend, and rus.h.i.+ng forward, plunged into the sea.

Poor little Alice, who at once recognised her father, stretched out her arms towards him, and would certainly have leaped into the sea had she not been forcibly detained by one of the pirates, whose special duty it was to hold her with one hand, while he restrained the violent demonstrations of Corrie with the other.

The father was too late, however. Already the boat was several yards from the sh.o.r.e, and the frantic efforts he made in the madness of his despair to overtake it, only served to exhaust him. When Henry Stuart reached the beach, it was with difficulty he prevented those members of his band who carried muskets from firing on the boat. None of them thought for a moment, of course, of making the mad attempt to swim towards her. Indeed, Mr Mason himself would have hesitated to do so had he been capable of cool thought at the time; but the sudden rush of hope when he heard of his child being near, combined with the agony of disappointment on seeing her torn, as it were, out of his very grasp, was too much for him. His reasoning powers were completely overturned; he continued to buffet the waves with wild energy, and to strain every fibre of his being in the effort to propel himself through the water, long after the boat was hopelessly beyond reach.

Henry understood his feelings well, and knew that the poor missionary would not cease his efforts until exhaustion should compel him to do so, in which case his being drowned would be a certainty, for there was neither boat nor canoe at hand in which to push off to his rescue.

In these circ.u.mstances the youth took the only course that seemed left to him. He threw off his clothes and prepared to swim after his friend, in order to render the a.s.sistance of his stout arm when it should be needed.

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