Part 28 (2/2)
And so while d.i.c.k lay there in the shade, fast asleep, the crew of the launch dozed the hours away, knowing well that they could not look for his return till late the following night.
Some few hours after d.i.c.k had fallen asleep he was kicked and ordered to stand up.
”We start for k.u.masi,” said James Langdon, with a leer, ”for the seat of the great King Koffee. There is a prospect before you, young man, and you will have time to think about it. Make sure of him,” he went on, turning to his followers, ”for the captive is no longer mine. He belongs to the King, and it will be a bad day's work for the one whose carelessness results in his escape. Now, march on, and let us push the pace.”
Three days later the procession marched into the town of k.u.masi, their prisoner still in their midst, footsore and weary, but with courage undaunted. They pa.s.sed at once along the princ.i.p.al street, and d.i.c.k was astonished to find that it was very wide, that neat huts stood in an orderly line on either side, and that trees grew here and there, offering a welcome shade. The thousands who came to stare and mock at him seemed neat and tidy, though they boasted little clothing, while the whole air of the town was one of prosperity and orderliness. But there was one huge drawback, which attracted the prisoner's attention the instant he set foot in k.u.masi, indeed, even before he reached the town.
Where there should have been the pleasantest of breezes there was the most ghastly and nauseating odour of dead men, and as the procession advanced the cause of this became more and more apparent. For k.u.masi was like a charnel house. The bodies of the hundreds of poor wretches who were slain were simply thrown into the nearest stagnant stream, or were piled in a narrow grove, the fetish grove, adjacent to the house of execution. In truth, the smell of blood was everywhere, and on every hand dark stains told of its presence. No wonder that he shuddered, while his courage began to evaporate.
”How awful!” he thought. ”The place makes one feel deadly sick, and the sights on either side are shocking. If that is to be the end, then the sooner the better. But I am not done yet. I will have a try for freedom, and it may be that I shall succeed. To think I have been made a fool of, and that letter was a forgery. Poor old Meinheer is dead after all.”
Even in the depths of his misery he could think unselfishly of others, of the unfortunate Dutchman whose name had been sufficient to bring his young agent to this plight. A moment later his thoughts were interrupted by James Langdon.
”The lions have had a good view of him,” he laughed, as he nodded to the crowd, who evidently held the half-caste in some awe. ”In a little while he shall afford them more sport, and they shall see what sort of a captive I have brought them. Pack him into the hut here, next to mine, and watch him while I go to the King. My servant will see to his food.
Cut his las.h.i.+ngs and bundle him in.”
A man produced his sword, and the las.h.i.+ngs were cut. Then, with the smallest ceremony, d.i.c.k was bundled into the hut, a one-roomed erection, smelling evilly, and almost devoid of light. But it was his for the moment, and he revelled in the opportunity it gave him to be alone. He sat down in one corner, feeling weary and sore from head to foot, while the evil smell of the place made him horribly sick. He was faint and giddy, and when at length the food was brought which was to be his evening meal, he pushed it from him.
He was down again with fever. No white man can live in the heart of the Ashanti forests, particularly on the river, without subjecting himself to the risk of incessant fever attacks, and once the malady has been gained, the paroxysms are apt to recur very often. Hards.h.i.+p, privation and excitement generally are sufficient to cause them to return, and it is therefore not wonderful to have to record that d.i.c.k Stapleton was again a victim. His teeth chattered, he was miserably cold in spite of the fact that the temperature in this stuffy hut was almost unbearable, and he had no appet.i.te. Indeed, he was soon semi-delirious, and it was not till many weeks had pa.s.sed that he was himself again. The fever, want of nursing, unsatisfactory foods, and incarceration in the hut did their work too thoroughly, so that on this occasion he was longer in recovering. And when he was stronger, and was allowed to step from the hut, it was to find k.u.masi in a ferment, to discover the house of execution fully occupied, and the bodies of fresh victims everywhere.
For the British advance had begun. Sir Garnet Wolseley, the energetic and indefatigable worker, was already on the way to the capital of the Ashantis, with a goodly following of troops behind him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
KING KOFFEE, THE TERRIBLE.
k.u.masi was in an uproar. The long, wide street which cut through the heart of the huge town was alive with Ashanti warriors, and with shrieking women and children. There was consternation on every face, and fierce anger at the news which had just come from the river Prahsu.
”Your soldiers have bridged the river and are about to advance,” growled James Langdon, as he threw the door of the prison hut open and accosted d.i.c.k. ”These fools here think that their fetish will prevail and keep the British back. I know better, for I have seen British troops. They will reach this place, and perhaps give it to the flames. Then they will retire, and as they go we shall fall upon them and cut them to pieces. You need not think that they will find you here. You are a marked man, and, at the last, when the advance still takes place, the Ashantis will offer you to their fetish in the hope that your sacrifice will arrest the enemy. It would have been better for you, d.i.c.k Stapleton, had you never interfered with me.”
”And by the look of you, it would have been easier for you had you hanged yourself weeks ago,” answered our hero, calmly, and with a smile which made his captor writhe. ”You look as though you were haunted, and I think that you must have had a very miserable time since you left the coast. You are a traitor and a murderer, and you are bound to be caught and punished.”
”Not if I rejoin the British. What if I set you and the other Europeans free! Would you obtain a pardon?”
d.i.c.k emphatically shook his head, for he mistrusted this man. More than that, he was wise enough to know that even though James Langdon might desire to do as he said, the Ashantis would never permit such action. A glance at the face of the half-caste was sufficient to show that he was ill at ease. Matters were beginning to look serious for King Koffee and his people, and the very sight of this half-caste, who had urged them to action and to resistance, angered them. They had lost faith in him, and James Langdon knew that at any time the King's favour might be withdrawn and he himself fall a victim. He turned away with an oath. Then he called for the guard which kept watch over the house, and gave an order.
At once d.i.c.k was bound and led off down the street, and having reached a wide open s.p.a.ce, close to the horrible fetish grove, he was brought to a halt within a few paces of the enormous sacrificial bowl, with its legs in the form of crouching lions, on the edge of which the Ashantis were wont to slay their victims. Never in all his life had he seen such a hideous sight.
”Terrible! terrible!” he murmured. ”To think that men could be such brutes! It is horrible!”
He closed his eyes for a little while, and then opened them again as there was a commotion. Then, indeed, he gave a start, for four white men were slowly led into the arena, all strangers to him, and all miserable prisoners like himself. They looked at him sharply, and one of them called out a greeting.
”Sorry to see you here,” he said, with a foreign accent. ”How long have you been a prisoner?”
”About six weeks. And you?”
”A year perhaps. We had hoped to be freed by the payment of a ransom.
Now I suppose we must wait for the troops if these brutes will allow us.
There is never any saying what they may do. To-day there will be a great sacrifice, and we are always dragged here to witness the awful scene. What news?”
He asked the question eagerly, and in a few words d.i.c.k narrated how Sir Garnet had landed and commenced operations, and how by now the troops must be at the coast and probably on the march up.
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