Part 15 (1/2)
When the black stoker looked again his master was gone, and with a sigh and a s.h.i.+ver of apprehension he sat down beside the lamp, and waited there in silence, for he and the Ashanti chief could not understand one another. As for our hero, he crept forward till the shots on either hand told him that he was amongst the men. Then he sought one of them and whispered in his ear, with the result that the miner pa.s.sed to left and right, giving his comrades the message, with orders to pa.s.s it on.
It was wonderful with what intelligence these Ashantis carried out their part of the work. They began to fall back slowly, firing at the flashes of the enemy's rifles, till they were within fifty yards of the stockade.
”Now begin to hold your fire,” said d.i.c.k, and in a minute the shots lessened. Another five minutes and the men were slinking back to the stockade, while our hero raced to and fro, firing his rifle repeatedly, so as to make the enemy think that the whole garrison was there. He fired, in fact, till his weapon was almost too hot to hold, and actually blistered his fingers. And then, when he judged that all must be clear of the stockade, and at the crest by now, he threw down his rifle and ran. Das.h.i.+ng into the stockade, he hardly paused as he s.n.a.t.c.hed up the lamp, and went on pellmell for the hut. Leaping the train of powder, he ran to the far corner of the building, and knelt beside the ”devil.” A jerk threw the lantern open, and in a second he had the candle in his hand. There was no time for hesitation, and at once he held the flame to the devil till it smoked and a few grains fizzled. But it did not fire at once. A little more heat was required, for he had over-damped the powder, and in his overstrung condition the extra time entailed in providing that heat was maddening. At any time the enemy might suspect.
They might even then be within the stockade. He would then--Ah! It had fired. The devil was well alight, throwing out its pungent fumes, till they gripped d.i.c.k's throat. He could move. The act was accomplished. The place was as good as fired.
He rose to his feet, stamped on the candle, and stole to the door. He would have been out in the open in another second had not something suddenly caused him to throw himself full length on the floor, where he lay in deep shadow, while just in front of him a few feeble rays from the spluttering devil pa.s.sed through the door and showed him two figures. One was the half-caste, while beside him, bending low as they crept across the compound, was a native, the glint from his enormous blade coming to d.i.c.k's eyes.
”A ruse! We have lost the birds,” he heard the half-caste growl huskily, as if his anger were choking him. ”But they are close. I know they are near us. Hah! Look there, chief. Afire. Look! a fire!”
They were quite close by now, and d.i.c.k saw them both start back. Then, as they caught sight of the spluttering devil and took in the situation, he saw them turn to run.
”A mine! A mine!” shouted the half-caste.
Leaping to his feet, he ran towards the gate of the stockade, the native abreast of him, and close on their heels came d.i.c.k, aglow with excitement. He was bent on escape. He felt the doors of retreat closing on him, and he was determined to get away. Suddenly James Langdon turned and gripped the native. Then he swung round, as if a thought had occurred to him, and he had realised that there was time yet to save an explosion. Indeed, that was his thought, and he at once ran back to the stockade. An instant later he saw d.i.c.k's figure bounding towards him in the darkness. He gave vent to a shout, and then crashed up against a boulder which happened to lie there, for our hero's fist had struck him full on the chest. The blow almost staggered d.i.c.k, too, but he recovered his balance in a moment, and, swinging round, dealt the native a fierce stroke on the chin, sending him reeling. After that he was off like lightning. He was out of the gate ere a second had pa.s.sed, and, darting round the stockade, was soon clambering up to the crest.
Nor did he halt till he had reached the summit.
”Rest a moment,” said the voice of the chief. ”I heard the commotion, and I am glad to report that the men who followed you into the place fled down the hill. See the smoke coming from the hut. And there are the flames. We will move when you are ready.”
Some five minutes later the two set off for the forest, the native leading, for he knew the way well, and had this enormous advantage over his young English leader, that he could see on such a night so well that they never once found themselves in a part where the difficulties of the track baulked their further progress. Since the day on which the expedition had first arrived, d.i.c.k had often taken the short cut to the forest which the agent had then used, and he knew how steep and difficult it was in parts, and how much care it called for, even when the easiest descents were selected. Had he had to find his way down alone on this night, he would probably have broken a limb, or lost his foothold and rolled, certainly to be dashed senseless before he reached the bottom. Then, too, it was not a time for hurry, such a dark night as this. But they had no choice. They could already see the glare of the flaming stockade in the sky. They could hear the shouts of their enemies, and they knew, the native far better than did d.i.c.k, that already his countrymen would be on the track.
”Once in the forest we shall be safe, I think,” he said, speaking as easily as if he had made no unusual efforts, though our hero was so short of breath that he gasped.
”Then we will put out all our strength to reach that place.”
By now they were near the foot of the rocky hill, and presently they were running steadily across the level. At length they reached the edge of the forest, where they halted, d.i.c.k to throw himself on the ground and gasp there for breath.
”A fine bonfire for our enemies,” laughed the chief, exulting now that he had left the worst of the danger behind. ”How is it that there is no explosion?”
No explosion! The bomb had failed! d.i.c.k looked up suddenly, his fatigue forgotten in an instant.
”Perhaps we walked through the train and scattered the powder,” he said breathlessly. ”Yes, I fancy that must be the secret. But it may go yet. The oil should carry the flames.”
A little later, when both were rested, there was a violent concussion in the distance, the report shaking the trees. An instant before, a ma.s.s of burning materials shot high up above the crest, while a series of loud explosions took place, as the rockets and detonators burst in mid-air. It brought a roar of exultation from the two standing beside the edge of the forest, a roar which changed as quickly into one of consternation. For however successful the bomb had proved, however well it had destroyed the stockade, and perhaps some few of the enemy, the flames it sent into the air lit up the surroundings and showed them that if James Langdon and his men had once been taken in they were not to be so easily caught again; and, moreover, that on this occasion they were bent on retrieving their misfortunes. For racing down the crest and across the open ground came some forty Ashanti warriors, their guns flung this way and that, and bare swords in their hands. They had discovered the direction of the flying garrison, and they were in full chase, coming like a pack of hounds who hold the scent and see victory before them.
”Lead!” said d.i.c.k, shortly, as they swung into the forest. ”I have my wind now, and can keep up at any pace.”
It was well for him that he could do so, for the track was not an easy one. Still there is no stimulus so strong as that which promises a swift and terrible fate to the one who lags behind. d.i.c.k knew what to expect if he were captured, and he went on without flagging. Briars and vines slashed him across both face and hands, lacerating the skin.
Thorns plucked him by his clothing and tore it to shreds. He struck his knees against fallen tree-trunks, and his feet against rotting boughs.
He plunged through narrow swamps and rivers, and dragged his legs through mire which threatened to hold him. And all the time the shouts of the hunters came in his wake. Talk of the music of the hounds! d.i.c.k learned during that wild dash through the heart of this dense forest to appreciate the bitterness of that statement from the point of view of the quarry fleeing for his very life. He knew now how the call of the pursuers made the blood run cold, how the yelp of Ashanti warriors made the hair rise, and the limbs stand almost still with sheer fright. Yes, he was the hare this time, and had there been a man at his heels, flogging him with a whip of knotted steel wire, or goading him with spikes, he could not have run harder. The perspiration poured from him.
Blood dripped from many a cut and laceration, while his breath came in short gasps.
”Hurrah! Him ma.s.sa. Wait now, you young debil. Yo wait till I say go.
Hold de fire till I tell yo. Hear? Can't yo hear dem fellers comin'?”
Once again did d.i.c.k learn to bless the sound of that voice. He dashed along beside the creek, saw the launch lying some feet away, and flung himself into the water. The chief followed suit without hesitation, and in a minute they were pus.h.i.+ng out into the stream, the two fugitives lying flat upon the deck, breathless and exhausted with their exertions.
And close on their heels came the enemy, maddened with rage, bent on securing the whole party. As the launch slipped into the stream and rounded the corner, first one and then some thirty of the warriors came tearing along the path, their dark figures hardly distinguishable in spite of the fact that the sky was getting lighter. But they could see clearly. They caught sight of the launch, and with yells of fury made ready to follow and effect her capture.