By Sheer Pluck: A Tale of the Ashanti War

“That is unlucky,” Mr. Goodenough said. “We have pitched on the wrong side. However, they will probably be deterred by the fire from approaching the camp, and will wander round and round: so we may hope to hear of them before long.”

In answer to the roar of the leopards the natives kept up a continued shouting. For some hours the roaring continued at intervals, sometimes close at hand, sometimes at a considerable distance. Frank had some difficulty in keeping awake, and was beginning to wish that the leopards would move off altogether. Two or three times he had nearly dozed off, and his rifle had almost slipped from his hold. All at once he was aroused by a sharp nudge from his companion. Fixing his eyes on the bait he made out something immediately below it. Directly afterwards another creature stole forward. They were far less distinct than he had expected.

“You take the one to the left,” Mr. Goodenough whispered; “Now!”

They fired together. Two tremendous roars were heard. One of the leopards immediately bounded away. The other rolled over and over, and then, recovering its feet, followed its companion, Mr. Goodenough firing his second barrel after him.

“I’m afraid you missed altogether, Frank,” he said.

“I don’t think so, sir. I fancied I saw the flash of the shell as it struck him, but where, I have not the remotest idea. I could not make him out clear enough. It was merely a dim shape, and I fired as well as I could at the middle of it.

“Shall we go back to the camp now?” Frank asked.

“Yes, we can safely do so. You can tell by the sound of the roars that they are already some distance away. There is little chance of their returning tonight. In the morning we will follow them. There is sure to be blood, and the natives will have no difficulty in tracking them.”

The rest of the night passed quietly, although roars and howling could be heard from time to time in the distance.

Early in the morning they started with the Houssas.

“We must be careful today,” Mr. Goodenough said, “for a wounded leopard is a really formidable beast.”

There was no difficulty in taking up the traces.

“One of them at least must be hard hit,” Mr. Goodenough remarked; “there are traces of blood every yard.”

They had gone but a short distance when one of the Houssas gave a sudden exclamation, and pointed to something lying at the edge of a clump of bushes.

“Leopard,” he said.

“Yes, there is one of them, sure enough. I think it’s dead, but we cannot be too cautious. Advance very carefully, Frank, keeping ready to fire instantly.”

They moved forward slowly in a body, but their precaution was unnecessary. There was no movement in the spotted, tawny skin as they advanced, and when they came close they could see that the leopard was really dead. He had been hit by two bullets. The first had struck his shoulder and exploded there, inflicting so terrible a wound that it was wonderful he had been able to move afterwards. The other had struck him on the back, near the tail, and had burst inside him. Frank on seeing the nature of the wounds was astonished at the tenacity of life shown by the animal.

“I wonder whether I hit the other,” he said.

“I have no doubt at all about it,” Mr. Goodenough answered, “although I did not think so before. It seemed to me that I only heard the howls of one animal in the night, and thought it was the one I had hit. But as this fellow must have died at once, it is clear that the cries were made by the other.”

A sharp search was now set up for the tracks of the other leopard, the Houssas going back to the tree and taking it up anew. They soon found traces of blood in a line diverging from that followed by the other animal. For an hour they followed this, great care being required, as at times no spots of blood could be seen for a considerable distance. At last they seemed to lose it altogether. Mr. Goodenough and Frank stood together, while the Houssas, scattered round, were hunting like well trained dogs for a sign. Suddenly there was a sharp roar, and from the bough of a tree close by a great body sprang through the air and alighted within a yard of Frank. The latter, in his surprise, sprang back, stumbled and fell, but in an instant the report of the two barrels of Mr. Goodenough’s rifle rang out. In a moment Frank was on his feet again ready to fire. The leopard, however, lay dead, its skull almost blown off.

“You have had another narrow escape,” Mr. Goodenough said. “I see that your ball last night broke one of his hind legs. That spoilt his spring. Had it not been for that he would undoubtedly have reached you, and a blow with his paw, given with all his weight and impetus, would probably have killed you on the spot. We ought not to have stood near a tree strong enough to bear him when in pursuit of a wounded leopard. They will always take to trees if they can, and you see this was a very suitable one for him. This bough on which he was lying starts from the trunk only about four feet from the ground, so that even with his broken leg he was able to get upon it without difficulty. Well, thank God, you’ve not been hurt, my boy. It will teach us both to be more careful in future.”

That afternoon Frank was down with his second attack of fever, a much more severe one than the first had been. Mr. Goodenough’s favorite remedy had its effect of producing profuse perspiration, but two or three hours afterwards the hot fit again came on, and for the next four days Frank lay half delirious, at one time consumed with heat, and the next shivering as if plunged into ice water. Copious doses of quinine, however, gradually overcame the fever, and on the fifth day he was convalescent. It was, nevertheless, another week before he was sufficiently recovered to be able to resume his hunting expeditions. They again shifted their camp, and this time traveled for three weeks, making short journeys, and halting early so as to give half a day from each camping place for their work.

Frank was one day out as usual with one of the Houssas. He had killed several birds when he saw a butterfly, of a species which he had not before met with, flitting across a gleam of sunshine which streamed in through a rift in the trees. He told his Houssa to wait where he was in charge of the two guns and birds, and started off with his net in pursuit of the butterfly. The creature fluttered away with Frank in full pursuit. Hither and thither it flitted, seemingly taking an impish delight in tantalizing Frank, settling on a spot where a gleam of sunlight streamed upon the bark of a tree, till Frank had stolen up within a couple of paces of it, and then darting away again at a pace which defied Frank’s best attempts to keep up with it until it chose to play with him again. Intent only upon his chase Frank thought of nothing else. At last, with a shout of triumph, he inclosed the creature in his net, shook it into the wide pickle bottle, containing a sponge soaked with chloroform, and then, after tightly fitting in the stopper, he looked around. He uttered an exclamation of dismay as he did so. He saw by the bands of light the sun was already setting, and knew that he must have been for upwards of an hour in chase of the butterfly. He had not the slightest idea of the direction in which he had come. He had, he knew, run up hill and down, but whether he had been traveling in a circle or going straight in one direction, he had not the least idea. He might be within a hundred yards of the spot where he had left the Houssa. He might be three or four miles away.

He at once drew out his revolver, which he always carried strapped to his belt, and discharged the six chambers, waiting for half a minute between each shot, and listening intently for an answer to his signal. None came. The stillness of the wood was unbroken, and Frank felt that he must have wandered far indeed from his starting place, and that he was completely lost. His first impulse was to start off instantly at the top of his speed, but a moment’s thought convinced him that this would be useless. He had not an idea of the direction which he should pursue. Besides the sun was sinking, twilight is short in the tropics, and in half an hour it would be as dark as midnight in the forest. Remembering his adventure with the leopard he determined to climb into a tree and pass the night there. He knew that an active search would be set on foot by his friends next morning, and that, as every step he took was as likely to lead him from as towards the camp, it was better to stay where he was.

He soon found a tree with a branch which would suit his purpose, and, climbing up into it, lit his pipe and prepared for an uncomfortable night. Frank had never smoked until he reached Africa, but he had then taken to it on the advice of Mr. Goodenough, who told him that smoking was certainly a preventive, to some extent, of fever in malarious countries, and, although he had not liked it at first, he had now taken kindly to his pipe, and smoked from the time when the evening mists began to rise until he went to bed.

The time passed very slowly. The cries of wild creatures could be heard in the woods, and although Frank did not expect to be attacked, it was impossible to sleep with these calls of leopards, with which the forest seemed to abound, in his ears. He had reloaded his revolver immediately after discharging it, and had replaced it in his pouch, and felt confident that nothing could climb the tree. Besides, he had heard that leopards seldom attack men unless themselves attacked. Sleep, however, was out of the question, for when he slept he might have fallen from his seat in the crotch of the tree. Occasionally, however, he dozed off, waking up always with an uncomfortable start, and a feeling that he had just saved himself from falling. With the earliest dawn of morn he descended, stiff and weary, from the tree. Directly the sun rose he set off walking. He knew at least that he was to the south of the camp, and that by keeping the sun on his right hand till it reached the zenith he must get in time to the little stream on which it was pitched. As he walked he listened intently for the sound of guns. Once or twice he fancied that he heard them, but he was quite unable to judge of the direction. He had been out with the Houssa about six hours before he strayed from him in the pursuit of the butterfly, and they had for some time been walking towards the camp, in order to reach it by nightfall. Thus he thought, that at that time, he could only have been some three or four miles distant from it. Supposing that he had run due south, he could still be but eight miles from the stream, and he thought that in three hours’ walking he might arrive there. In point of fact, after leaving the Houssa the butterfly had led him towards the southeast, and as the stream took a sharp bend to the north a little distance above the camp, he was many miles farther from it than he expected. This stream was one of the upper tributaries of the Gaboon.

After walking for two hours the character of the forest changed. The high trees were farther apart, and a thick undergrowth began to make its appearance, frequently causing him to make long detours and preventing his following the line he had marked out for himself. This caused him much uneasiness, for he knew that he had passed across no such country on his way from the camp, and the thought that he might experience great difficulties in recovering it, now began to press upon him.

CHAPTER XI: A HOSTILE TRIBE

Every step that he went the ground grew softer and more swampy, and he at length determined to push on no farther in this direction, but turning to his left to try and gain higher ground, and then to continue on the line he had marked out for himself.

His progress was now very slow. The bush was thick and close, thorny plants and innumerable creepers continually barred his way, and the necessity for constantly looking up through the trees to catch a glimpse of the sun, which was his only guide, added to his difficulty. At length, when his watch told him it was eleven o’clock, he came to a standstill, the sun being too high overhead to serve him as a reliable guide. He had now been walking for nearly six hours, and he was utterly worn out and exhausted, having had no food since his midday meal on the previous day. He was devoured with thirst, having merely rinsed his mouth in the black and poisonous water of the swamps he had crossed. His sleepless night, too, had told on him. He was bathed in perspiration, and for the last hour had scarcely been able to drag his feet along.

He now lay down at the foot of a great tree, and for three or four hours slept heavily. When he awoke he pursued his journey, the sun serving as a guide again. In two hours’ time he had got upon higher ground. The brushwood was less dense, and he again turned his face to the north, and stepped forward with renewed hopes.

It was late in the afternoon when he came upon a native path. Here he sat down to think. He did not remember having crossed such a path on the day before. Probably it crossed the stream at some point above the encampment. Therefore it would serve as a guide, and he might, too, come upon some native village where he could procure food. By following it far enough he must arrive somewhere. He sat for a quarter of an hour to rest himself, and then proceeded along the path, whose direction seemed to be the northwest.

For an hour he proceeded and then paused, hearing a sudden outcry ahead. Scampering along the path came a number of great baboons, and Frank at once stepped aside into the bush to avoid them, as these are formidable creatures when disturbed. They were of a very large species, and several of the females had little ones clinging around their necks. In the distance Frank could hear the shouts of some natives, and supposed that the monkeys had been plundering their plantations, and that they were driving them away. The baboons passed without paying any attention to him, but Frank observed that the last of the troop was carrying a little one in one of its forearms.

Frank glanced at the baby monkey and saw that it had round its waist a string of blue beads. As a string of beads is the only attire which a negro child wears until it reaches the age of ten or eleven years old, the truth at once flashed upon Frank that the baboons were carrying off a native baby, which had probably been set down by its mother while she worked in the plantation. Instantly he drew his pistol, leaped into the road, and fired at the retreating ape. It gave a cry, dropped the baby and turned to attack its aggressor.

Frank waited till it was within six feet, and then shot it through the head. He sprang forward and seized the baby, but in a moment he was attacked by the whole party of baboons, who, barking like dogs, and uttering angry cries, rushed at him. Frank stood his ground, and discharged the four remaining barrels of his revolver at the foremost animals. Two of these dropped, but the others who were only wounded sprang upon him. Frank struck out with the butt end of his pistol, but in a minute he was overpowered.

One monkey seized him by the leg with his teeth, while another bit his arm. Others struck and scratched at him, and he was at once thrown down. He tried to defend his face with his arms, kicking and struggling to the best of his power. With one hand he drew the long knife for skinning animals, which he wore at his belt, and struck out fiercely, but a baboon seized his wrist in its teeth, and Frank felt that all was over, when suddenly his assailants left him, and the instant afterwards he was lifted to his feet by some negroes.

He had, when attacked by the apes, thrown the baby into a clump of ferns close by, in order to have the use of both his hands, and when he looked round he found that a negress had already picked it up, and was crying and fondling it. The negroes appeared intensely astonished at Frank’s color, and he judged by their exclamations of surprise that, not only had they not seen a white man before, but that they had not heard of one being in the neighborhood.

Frank had been too severely bitten and mauled by the baboons to be able to walk, and the negroes, seeing this, raised him, and four of them carried him to their village, which was but a quarter of a mile distant. Here he was taken to the principal hut, and laid on a bed. His wounds were dressed with poultices formed of bruised leaves of some plant, the natives evincing the utmost astonishment as Frank removed his clothes to enable these operations to be performed.

By pointing to his lips he indicated that he was hungry and thirsty. Water was brought to him, and cakes made from pounded yams pressed and baked. Having eaten and drank he closed his eyes and lay back, and the natives, who had before been all noisily chattering together, now became suddenly silent, and stealing away left the strange white visitor to sleep.

When Frank woke he could see by the light that it was early morning. A woman with a child in her lap, whom Frank recognized as the negress who had picked up the baby, was sitting on a low stool by his side. On seeing him open his eyes she came to the bed, took his hand and put it to her lips, and then raised the baby triumphantly and turned it round and round to show that it had escaped without damage. Then when Frank pointed again to his lips she brought him a pineapple, roughly cut off the skin, and sliced it. Frank ate the juicy fruit, and felt immensely refreshed, for the West Coast pineapple is even more delicious than that found in the West Indies. Then the woman removed the bandages and applied fresh poultices to his wounds, talking in low soft tones, and, as Frank had no doubt, expressing sorrow at their cause.

Frank now endeavored to explain to her that he had a white companion in the woods, but the woman, not understanding, brought in two or three other natives, who stood round the couch and endeavored to gather what he wished to say.

Frank held up two fingers. Then he pointed to himself and shut down one finger, keeping the other erect, and then pointed all round to signify that he had a friend somewhere in the wood. A grin of comprehension stole over the faces of the negroes, and Frank saw that he was understood.

Then he again held up his two fingers, and taking the hands of the negress raised all her fingers by the side of the white ones to signify that there were many natives with them. Then he took aim, with an imaginary gun, up at the roof of the hut, and said “Bang” very loud, and a chorus of approving laughter from the negroes showed that he was understood. Then one of them pointed towards the various points of the compass, and looked interrogatively at Frank. The sun was streaming in through the doorway, and he was thus able to judge of the direction in which the camp must lie. He made a sweep with his hand towards the northwest, signifying that they were somewhere in that direction.

That afternoon fever set in, and for the two next days Frank was delirious. When he recovered consciousness he found Mr. Goodenough sitting beside him. The latter would not suffer him to talk, but gave him a strong dose of quinine and told him to lie quiet and go to sleep.

It was not till the next day that Frank learned what had happened in his absence. The Houssa had not returned until long after nightfall. He reported that Frank had told him to wait with the guns, and that he had waited until it grew nearly dark. Then he had fired several times and had walked about, firing his gun at intervals. Obtaining no responses he had made his way back to the camp, where his arrival alone caused great consternation.

It was impossible to do anything that night, and the next morning Mr. Goodenough, accompanied by five of the Houssas, one only remaining to keep guard over the camp, had gone to the place where Frank had last been seen. Then they scattered in various directions, shouting and firing their guns. The search had been continued all day without success, and at nightfall, disheartened and worn out, they had returned to the camp. The next day the search had been continued with an equal want of success, and the fears that a leopard had attacked and killed Frank became stronger and stronger. On the third day the whole of the carriers were sent out with instructions to search the woods for native paths, to follow these to villages, and to enlist the natives in the search. One of these men had met one of the villagers on the search for the party of the white man.

It was another ten days before Frank was sufficiently recovered from his fever and wounds to march back to the camp. After a stay there of two or three more days, to enable him completely to regain his strength, the party started again on their journey.

In another three weeks they had descended the hills, and the Fans announced their unwillingness to travel farther. Mr. Goodenough, however, told them quietly that they had promised to go on until he could obtain other carriers, and that if they deserted him he should pay them nothing. They might now expect every day to meet people of another tribe, and as soon as they should do so they would be allowed to depart. Finding that he was firm, and having no desire to forfeit the wages they had earned, the Fans agreed to go forward, although they were now in a country entirely unknown to them, where the people would presumably be hostile. They had, however, such faith in the arms carried by the white men and Houssas, that they felt comparatively easy as to the result of any attack which might be made upon them.

The very day after this little mutiny, smoke was seen curling up from the woods. Mr. Goodenough deemed it inexpedient to show himself at once with so large a number of men. He, therefore, sent forward Ostik with two of the Fans, each of whom could speak several native dialects, to announce his coming. They returned in an hour saying that the village was a very large one, and that the news of the coming of two white men had created great excitement. The people spoke of sending at once to their king, whom they called Malembe, whose place, it seemed, was a day’s march off.

They now prepared to enter the village. Ostik went first carrying himself with the dignity of a beadle at the head of a school procession. Two of the Houssas walked next. Mr. Goodenough and Frank followed, their guns being carried by two Fans behind them. Then came the long line of bearers, two of the Houssas walking on each side as a baggage guard. The villagers assembled in great numbers as they entered. The head man conducted the whites to his hut. No women or children were to be seen, and the expression of the men was that of fear rather than curiosity.