BAFFLED AND PERPLEXED--PLANS FOR A RESCUE.
While the men assembled round the prostrate form of Mr. Mason were
attempting to rescue him from his state of stupor, poor Corrie began to
show symptoms of returning vitality. A can of water, poured over him by
Henry, did much to restore him. But no sooner was he enabled to
understand what was going on, and to recall what had happened, than he
sprang up with a wild cry of despair, and rushed towards the blazing
house. Again Henry's quick arm arrested a friend in his mad career.
"Oh! she's there!--Alice is _there_!" shrieked the boy, as he struggled
passionately to free himself.
"You can do nothing, Corrie," said Henry, trying to soothe him.
"Coward!" gasped the boy, in a paroxysm of rage, as he clenched his fist
and struck his captor on the chest with all his force.
"Hold him," said Henry, turning to John Bumpus, who at that moment came
up.
Bumpus nodded intelligently, and seized the boy, who uttered a groan of
anguish as he ceased a struggle which he felt was hopeless in such an
iron gripe.
"Now, friends--all of you," shouted Henry, the moment he was relieved of
his charge: "little Alice is in that house. We must pull it down. Who
will lend a hand?"
He did not pause for an answer, but, seizing an ax, rushed through the
smoke and began to cut down the door-posts. The whole party there
assembled, numbering about fifty, rushed forward, as one man, to aid in
the effort. The attempt was a wild one. Had Henry considered for a
moment, he would have seen that, in the event of their succeeding in
pulling down the blazing pile, they would in all probability smother the
child in the ruins.
"The shell is in the outhouse," said Corrie, eagerly, to the giant who
held him.
"Wot shell?" inquired Bumpus.
"The shell that they blow like a horn to call the people to work with."
"Ah! you're sane again," said the sailor releasing him; "go, find it,
lad, and blow till yer cheeks crack."
Corrie was gone long before Jo had concluded even that short remark. In
another second the harsh but loud sound of the shell rang over the
hillside. The settlers, black and white, immediately ceased their
pursuit of the savages, and from every side they came trooping in by
dozens. Without waiting to inquire the cause of what was being done,
each man, as he arrived, fell to work on the blazing edifice, and, urged
on by Henry's voice and example, toiled and moiled in the midst of fire
and smoke until the pastor's house was literally pulled to pieces.
Fortunately for little Alice, she had been carried out of the house long
before by Keona, who, being subtle as well as revengeful, knew well how
to strike at the tenderest part of the white man's heart.
While her friends were thus frantically endeavoring to deliver her from
the burning house in which they supposed her to be, Alice was being
hurried through the woods by a steep mountain path in the direction of
the native village. Happily for the feelings of her father, the fact was
made known, soon after the house had been pulled down, by the arrival of
a small party of native settlers bearing one of the child's shoes. They
had found it, they said, sticking in the mud, about a mile off, and had
tracked the little footsteps a long way into the mountains by the side
of the prints made by the naked feet of a savage. At length they had
lost the tracks amid the hard lava rocks, and had given up the chase.
"We must follow them up instantly," said Mr. Mason, who had by this time
recovered: "no time is to be lost."
"Aye, time is precious; who will go?" cried Henry, who, begrimed with
fire and smoke, and panting vehemently from recent exertion, had just at
that moment come towards the group.
"Take me! oh take me, Henry!" cried Corrie, in a beseeching tone, as he
sprang promptly to his friend's side.
At any other time, Henry would have smiled at the enthusiastic offer of
such a small arm to fight the savages; but fierce anger was in his
breast at that moment. He turned from the poor boy and looked round with
a frown, as he observed that, although the natives crowded round him at
once, neither Gascoyne, nor Thorwald, nor Captain Montague showed any
symptom of an intention to accompany him.
"Nay, be not angry, lad," said Gascoyne, observing the frown; "your
blood is young and hot, as it should be; but it behooves us to have a
council of war before we set out on this expedition, which, believe me,
will be no trifling one, if I know anything of savage ways and doings."
"Mr. Gascoyne is right," said Montague, turning to the missionary, who
stood regarding the party with anxious looks, quite unable to offer
advice on such an occasion, and clasping the little shoe firmly in both
hands; "it seems to me that those who know the customs of savage warfare
should give their advice first. You may depend on all the aid that it is
in my power to give."
"Ole Thorwald is our leader when we are compelled to fight in
self-defense," said Mr. Mason; "would God that it were less frequently
we were obliged to demand his services. He knows what is best to be
done."
"I know what is best to do," said Thorwald, "when I have to lead men
into action, or to show them how to fight. But, to say truth, I don't
plume myself on possessing more than an average share of the qualities
of the terrier dog. When niggers are to be hunted out of holes in the
mountains like rabbits, I will do what in me lies to aid in the work;
but I had rather be led than lead if you can find a better man."
Thorwald said this with a rueful countenance, for he had hoped to have
settled this war in a pitched battle; and there were few things the
worthy man seemed to enjoy more than a stand-up fight on level ground. A
fair field and no favor was his delight; but climbing the hills was his
mortal aversion. He was somewhat too corpulent and short of wind for
that.
"Come, Gascoyne," said Henry; "you know more about the savages than
anybody here; and if I remember rightly, you have told me that you are
acquainted with most of the mountain passes."
"With all of them, lad," interposed Gascoyne; "I know every pass and
cavern on the island."
"What, then, would you advise?" asked Montague.
"If a British officer can put himself under a simple trading skipper,"
said Gascoyne, "I may perhaps show what ought to be done in this
emergency."
"I can co-operate with any one who proves himself worthy of confidence,"
retorted Montague, sharply.
"Well, then," continued the other, "it is vain to think of doing any
good by a disorderly chase into mountains like these. I would advise
that our forces be divided into three. One band under Mr. Thorwald
should go round by the Goat's Pass, to which I will guide him, and cut
off the retreat of the savages there; another party under my friend
Henry Stuart should give chase in the direction in which little Alice
seems to have been taken; and a third party, consisting of his Majesty's
vessel the Talisman and crew; should proceed round to the north side of
the island and bombard the native village."
"The Goat's Pass," growled Thorwald, "sounds unpleasantly rugged and
steep in the ears of a man of my weight and years, Mister Gascoyne. But
if there's no easier style of work to be done, I fancy I must be content
with what falls to my lot."
"And truly," added Montague, "methinks you might have assigned me a more
useful, as well as more congenial occupation, than the bombardment of a
mud village full of women and children; for I doubt not that every
able-bodied man has left it, to go on this expedition."
"You'll not find the Goat's Pass so bad as you think, good Thorwald,"
returned Gascoyne; "for I propose that the Talisman or her boats should
convey you and your men to the foot of it, after which your course will
be indeed rugged, but it will be short;--merely to scale the face of a
precipice that would frighten a goat to think of, and then a plain
descent into the valley, where, I doubt not, these villains will be
found in force; and where, certainly, they will not look for the
appearance of a stout generalissimo of half-savage troops. As for the
bombarding of a mud village, Mr. Montague, I should have expected a
well-trained British officer ready to do his duty, whether that duty
were agreeable or otherwise."
"My _duty_ certainly," interrupted the young captain, hotly; "but I have
yet to learn that _your_ orders constitute _my_ duty."
The bland smile with which Gascoyne listened to this tended rather to
irritate than to soothe Montague's feelings; but he curbed the passion
which stirred his breast, while the other went on:
"No doubt the bombarding of a defenseless village is not pleasant work;
but the result will be important, for it will cause the whole army of
savages to rush to the protection of their women and children, thereby
disconcerting their plans--supposing them to have any--and enabling us
to attack them while assembled in force. It is the nature of savages to
scatter, and so to puzzle trained forces; and no doubt those of His
Majesty are well trained. But 'one touch of nature makes the whole world
kin,' says a great authority; it is wonderful how useful a knowledge of
various touches of nature is in the art of war.
"It may not have occurred to Mr. Montague that savages have a tendency
to love and protect their wives and children, as well as civilized men,
and that--"
"Pray, cease your irrelevant remarks; they are ill-timed," said
Montague, impatiently. "Let us hear the remainder of your suggestions. I
shall judge of their value, and act accordingly. You have not yet told
us what part you yourself intend to play in this game."
"I mean to accompany Captain Montague, if he will permit me."
"How! go with me in the Talisman?" said Montague, surprised at the man's
coolness, and puzzled by his impudence.
"Even so," said Gascoyne.
"Well, I have no objection, of course; but it seems to me that you would
be more useful at the head of a party of your own men."
"Perhaps I might," replied Gascoyne; "but the coral reefs are dangerous
on the north side of the island, and it is important that one well
acquainted with them should guide your vessel. Besides, I have a trusty
mate, and if you will permit me to send my old shipmate John Bumpus
across the hills, he will convey all needful instructions to the Foam."
This was said in so quiet and straightforward a tone that Montague's
wrath vanished. He felt ashamed of having shown so much petulance at a
time when affairs of so great importance ought to have been calmly
discussed; so he at once agreed to allow Bumpus to go. Meanwhile, Henry
Stuart, who had been fretting with impatience at this conversation,
suddenly exclaimed:
"It seems to me, sirs, that you are wasting precious time just now. I,
at least, am quite satisfied with the duty assigned to me; so I'm off:
ho! who will join me?"
"I'm your man," cried Corrie, starting up and flourishing the broken
saber above his head. At the same moment about a hundred natives ranged
themselves round the youth, thus indicating that they, too, were his
men.
"Well, lad, away you go," said Gascoyne, smiling; "but Master Corrie
must remain with me."
"I'll do nothing of the sort," said Corrie, stoutly.
"Oh yes, you will, my boy, I want you to guide my man Bumpus over the
mountains. You know the passes, and he don't. It's all for the good of
the cause, you know,--the saving of little Alice."
Corrie wavered. The idea of being appointed, as it were, to a separate
command, and of going with his new friend, was a strong temptation, and
the assurance that he would in some way or other be advancing the
business in hand settled the matter. He consented to become obedient.
In about half an hour all Gascoyne's plans were in course of being
carried out. Ole Thorwald and his party proceeded on board the Talisman,
which weighed, anchor, and sailed, with a light breeze, towards the
north end of the island--guided through the dangerous reefs by Gascoyne.
Henry and his followers were toiling nimbly up the hills in the
direction indicated by the little footprints of Alice; and John Bumpus,
proceeding into the mountains in another direction, pushed, under the
guidance of Corrie, towards the bay, where the Foam still lay quietly at
anchor.
It was evening when these different parties set out on their various
expeditions. The sun was descending to the horizon in a blaze of lurid
light. The slight breeze, which wafted his Britannic Majesty's ship
slowly along the verdant shore, was scarcely strong enough to ruffle the
surface of the sea. Huge banks of dark clouds were gathering in the sky,
and a hot, unnatural closeness seemed to pervade the atmosphere, as if a
storm were about to burst upon the scene. Everything, above and below,
seemed to presage war--alike elemental and human; and the various
leaders of the several expeditions felt that the approaching night would
tax their powers and resources to the uttermost.
It was, then, natural that in such circumstances the bereaved father
should be distracted with anxiety as to which party he should join; and
it was also natural that one whose life had been so long devoted to the
special service of God should, before deciding on the point, ask, on his
knees, his heavenly Father's guidance.
He finally resolved to accompany the party under command of Henry
Stuart.