"But it do seem to me, Swinton, that if a poor sinner like me is willin'
to forgive ye, ain't the Almighty likely to be _much more_ willin'?"
"There's somethin' in _that_, Grummidge--somethin' in that," said the
sick man eagerly. Then the hopeful look disappeared as he added slowly,
"but I fear, Grummidge, that what you say don't quite fit my case, for
I've got a notion that the Almighty must have been willin' all my life
to save me from myself, and that all my life I've bin refusin' to listen
to Him."
"How d'ye make that out, boy?"
"This way. There's bin somethin' or other inside o' me, as far back as
I can remember, that somehow didn't seem to be me, that has been always
sayin' `Don't' to me, whenever I was a-goin' to do a mean thing. Now, I
can't help thinkin' that it must have bin God that spoke, for a man
would never say `Don't' to himself, an' then go right off an' do it,
would he?"
"That's more than I can tell," answered Grummidge. "I remember hearin'
Master Burns a-talkin' on that point wi' the cappen, an' he thought it
was conscience or the voice of God."
"Well, conscience or no conscience, I've resisted it all my life,"
returned the sick man, "an' it do seem a mean, sneakin' sort o' thing to
come to the Almighty at the very last moment, when I can't help myself,
an' say, `I'm sorry.'"
"It would be meaner to say `I'm _not_ sorry,' wouldn't it?" returned
Grummidge. "But, now I think of it, Master Burns did read one or two
things out o' that writin' that he's so fond of, which he says is the
Word of God. If it's true what he says, he may well be fond of it, but
I wonder how he has found that out. Anyway, I remember that one o' the
things he read out of it was that the Lamb of God takes away the sins of
the world; an' he explained that Jesus is the Lamb of God, an' that he
stands in our place--takes our punishment instead of us, an' fulfils the
law instead of us."
The sick man listened attentively, even eagerly, but shook his head.
"How can any _man_ stand in my place, or take my punishments?" he said,
in a tone savouring almost of contempt. "As far as I can see, every man
will have enough to do to answer for himself."
"That's just what come into my mind too, when I heard Master Burns
speak," returned the other; "but he cleared that up by explainin' that
Jesus is God as well as man--`God with us,' he said."
"That do seem strange," rejoined the sick man, "and if true," he added
thoughtfully, "there's somethin' in it, Grummidge, somethin' in it to
give a man comfort."
"Well, mate, I'm of your mind about that, for if God himself be for us,
surely nobody can be agin us," said the seaman, unconsciously
paraphrasing the word of Scripture itself. "Blow high or blow low, that
seems to me an anchor that you an' me's safe to hang on to."
The conversation was interrupted at this point by the sudden entrance of
Jim Heron with an arrow sticking in the fleshy part of his back.
"Attacked by savages!" he gasped. "Here, Grummidge, lend a hand to haul
out this--I can't well reach it. They came on us behind the big store,
t'other side o' the settlement, and, after lettin' fly at us took to
their heels. The lads are after them. I got separated from the boys,
and was shot, as you see, so I came--hah! pull gently, Grummidge--came
back here that you might haul it out, for it's hard to run an' fight
with an arrow in your back."
"Stay here, Jim," said Grummidge, after hastily extracting the shaft.
"You couldn't do much with a wound like that. I'll take your place and
follow up the men, and you'll take mine here, as nurse to Swinton. We
mustn't leave him alone, you know."
Eager though Jim Heron was at first for the fray, the loss of blood had
reduced his ardour and made him willing to fall in with this proposal.
"Good-bye, Grummidge," cried Swinton, as the former, having snatched up
his knife and bow, was hastening to the door.
"Good-bye--good-bye, mate," he responded, turning back and grasping the
proffered hand. "You'll be all right soon, old chap--and Jim's a better
nurse than I am."
"I like what you said about that anchor, mate, I'll not forget it" said
Swinton, sinking back on his pillow as Grummidge sallied forth to join
in the pursuit of the savages.
The stout seaman's movements were watched by some hundreds of glittering
black eyes, the owners of which were concealed amid the brushwood of the
adjoining forest.
Meanwhile, at the other end of the settlement, the greater number of the
shipwrecked mariners were engaged in hot pursuit of the party of Indians
who had attacked them. They were very indignant, several of their mates
having been wounded, and a considerable quantity of their stores carried
off.
It quickly became apparent, however, that the seamen were no match for
savage, at a race through the woods, therefore Grummidge, who soon
overtook his comrades, called a halt, and gathered as many of his men as
possible around him.
"Now, lads," he said, "it's plain that some of you can't run much
further. You ain't used to this sort o' work. Besides, we have left
our settlement undefended. Most of you must therefore return, an' a few
of the smartest among you will follow me, for we must give these rascals
a fright by followin' 'em till we catch 'em--if we can--or by drivin'
'em back to their own place, wherever that may be."
Many of the men were more than willing to agree to this arrangement,
while others were quite ready to follow their leader. The party,
therefore, that finally continued in pursuit of the Indians was composed
of Grummidge, George Blazer, Fred Taylor, Little Stubbs, Garnet Squill,
and several others. Armed with bows, arrows, short spears, and clubs,
these set off without delay into the forest, trusting to the sun and
stars for guidance. The remainder of the men returned to the
settlement, where they discovered that they had been the victims of a
ruse on the part of the savages. The assault at the further end of the
settlement proved to be a mere feint, made by a comparatively small
party, for the purpose of drawing the seamen away, and leaving the main
part of the settlement undefended, and open to pillage. While the small
detachment of Indians, therefore, was doing its part, the main body
descended swiftly but quietly on Wagtail Bay, and possessed themselves
of all that was valuable there, and carried it off.
Of course, Swinton and Jim Heron were found there. Both had been
beheaded, and their bodies stripped and left on the floor. Heron seemed
to have offered a stout resistance, until overpowered by numbers and
slain. Poor Swinton, who could not have had much more life remaining
than enabled him to understand what was occurring, had been stabbed to
death where he lay.
Fortunately, it was not possible for the Indians to carry off all the
dried fish and other provisions, so that the men were not reduced to
absolute starvation.
All ignorant of what was going on at the settlement, the avengers were
pushing their way through the woods in pursuit of the smaller body of
savages. Nothing could have been more satisfactory to these latter.
From every eminence and knoll unseen eyes watched the movements of the
white men, who remained under the delusion that they were striking
terror into the hearts of a flying foe.
"Sure, we'll have to take a rest soon," said Squill, as they halted on
the top of a mound, about sunset to breathe and wipe their heated brows.
"True, a short sleep we _must_ have, but we'll have to take our rest
without kindling a fire," said Grummidge.
"Ay, an' go supperless to bed, too," remarked Little Stubbs; "for we've
brought nothing to eat with us."
This fact had not struck any of the party till that moment. They had
been so eager in pursuit of the foe that all prudential considerations
had been thrown to the winds. They now lay down, therefore, to the very
brief rest that was absolutely needful, not only without supper, but
with the prospect of starting again without breakfast. However, each
man felt bound in honour not to damp his fellows by complaining.
"Now, boys," said Grummidge, "you lie down, an' I'll mount guard. Sleep
as fast as you can, for I'll route ye out in an hour or so."
But Grummidge did not fulfil his promise. Seating himself with his back
to a tree, his bows and arrows ready to hand, and actuated by a firm
resolve to watch with intense care, he fell fast asleep, and the whole
party snored in concert.
About fifty Indians, who had joined the original attacking party, had
waited patiently for this state of affairs. When quite certain that the
seamen were all sleeping soundly, they crept silently forward, and
pounced upon them. The struggle was sharp, but short. Courage and
strength are futile when opposed to overwhelming numbers. A few minutes
later, and the white men were led, with hands bound behind them, into
the depth of the unknown wilderness.