Kumasi 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
Dick. "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, Dick
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?"
Dick 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James Langdon knew that at any time the King's favour might be withdrawn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 Dick was bound and led off down the street, and having reached
a wide open space, 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 Dick 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.
"Then that accounts for this butchery. They are trying to stop the
advance, and these poor people have to suffer. Shut your eyes as long
as you can, my lad. I'm hardened."
But Dick could not. He looked on with dilated eyes and shuddered, for
the next three hours were indeed too horrible to relate. Some hundreds
of wretched slaves and prisoners were ruthlessly slaughtered, while the
mob looked on, gloating. But happily for the white prisoners, there was
little noise, only an occasional shriek from some waiting victim. The
poor wretches were led to the bowl, and knives were thrust through their
cheeks so that they could not utter a sound. Then their heads were
forced over the edge of the bowl, and with a sweep of the sacrificial
knife they were decapitated.
"It's done with for to-day," at last said the prisoner who had spoken
before, addressing Dick, wearily. "A few score more of these poor
people have been killed--men, women and children, and now the last test
of all has been carried out. The fetish priests have said that if men
who are tied up in the forest and left alone die quickly, the Ashantis
will be victorious. If they live for many days the British will
succeed. They have put knives through the cheeks of two of the captives
and have led them away. It's all very horrible and very terrible. But
never fear, things may come right yet. By the way, who is that sallow
dog who fights with the Ashantis and advises them? See him there. He
is watching and listening."
Dick did not answer, for James Langdon suddenly emerged from the crowd,
where he had hidden himself the better to watch his prisoner. Now,
however, he came forward at a run, and stood in front of the man who had
spoken.
"Sallow dog, you call me," he cried angrily. "I will tell you who I am.
I am the one who has so far kept you white men alive, and to me you may
look for the order which will bring you here again for execution. That
is your answer."
He scowled at the prisoner and then went off, giving an order as he left
the arena. At once the guards closed round the prisoners, and all were
marched away, Dick being taken back and flung into his hut. He sat down
at once with his back to the wall, and his eyes fixed on the door, and
for an hour he hardly stirred a finger. Now and again his eyes moved a
little, as the light which streamed beneath the door altered, and the
shadow of a passing man crossed it. Otherwise he allowed nothing to
disturb his thoughts.
"I will do it," he said at last, rising to his feet and pacing up and
down. "I am strong now, and once away I can live in the forest with
ease, for there are plantains everywhere. I will make an attempt this
very night, and if I fail, well it will only hasten my death by a very
few hours."
"Food and water. Take it!"
The door was thrown open by the man appointed to feed the captive, and a
bundle of plantains tossed into the hut. An earthen pot containing
water was set down just inside the hut, and then the door was slammed,
for the man was in a hurry. Like all the inhabitants of Kumasi, he was
eager to go into the forest to watch the poor wretches tied up there,
and to listen to news of the invaders. The guards also, two of whom
were set to watch the hut, had their attention distracted on this day,
for as Dick peered through the crevices in the door he could see them
gossiping with the passers-by, and straying far from the hut. When
darkness fell the town was still in a state of agitation, for further
news had come of a British victory, and the watch on the hut was even
more careless. But the Ashantis had not entirely forgotten their
prisoner, as Dick soon discovered. For as he looked out into the wide
street, watching the numerous almost nude figures seated about the
fires, and the warriors passing to and fro, a gentle grating on the far
side of the door warned him that he might expect a visitor. As quick as
a flash he crossed the floor and sank to the ground on the far side,
where he feigned to be asleep. He had hardly gained this position when
the door was burst open, and two men entered, the second bearing a
torch.
"Gone! He has escaped! Those dogs have let him go! Ah, no! He is
here!"
The half-caste clenched his hands, and turned furiously upon the native
bearing the torch, for as he entered, the half light cast by the flame
had illuminated only a portion of the hut, and he imagined that the
prisoner had gone. Then he caught sight of his figure in the corner,
and heaved a sigh of relief.
"Safe!" he exclaimed, with a growl of satisfaction. "Not escaped. That
is good. Have we disturbed your sleep?"
Dick looked up wearily, blinking at the light, and then seeing who it
was, and pretending that he had only just discovered the presence of his
enemy, he rolled over again, treating him with scorn and silence, as was
his custom.
For a little while the half-caste and his attendant stared at him
thoughtfully, then they turned and left the hut.
"I felt ill at ease," Dick heard James Langdon mutter; "I fancied that
he had escaped, and I came to see for myself. I can sleep peacefully
now if I do not dream of these British."
He clenched his hands again as he moved away, and Dick heard him
muttering still as the door was slammed. Then came the sound of his
steps, a fierce kick as he pushed open the door of his own abode, and a
sharp crash as he swung it to again.
"Sick and weary," thought Dick. "His conscience is hurting him, or
rather, perhaps, he begins to feel the net closing round him. We shall
see. I gave him due warning, and if the time comes I will kill him as
if he were a fly. Now for business."
He rose stealthily to his feet and went to the door, where he remained
for some minutes staring out into the street, and taking note of the
position of his guards. Then he went in succession to some half-dozen
tiny peep-holes, which he had diligently bored through the wattle wall
of the hut.
"All clear," he said, with a satisfied chuckle. "It's quite dark now,
and as these people go to bed early the place will soon be quiet. I'll
give the guards a little time to settle down and then I'll move. This
is the side for operations."
He went to the wall which faced the hut in which dwelt the half-caste
and set to work upon it. Slipping his hand into his sleeve, he produced
an angular piece of iron, a fragment of a cooking-pot which he had
picked up in a corner of the hut. Many an hour had he spent in
sharpening an edge of the fragment upon a stone dug up from the dried
mud floor, and now it was as keen as a razor. Holding it firmly in his
hand, he swept it slowly and in a circle over the wattle wall, his
fingers following the cut. Then he repeated the process, very slowly
and very carefully, severing the stems one by one. Like all the
habitations in Kumasi, the prison in which he was incarcerated was built
of wattle, woven roughly together, and plastered with mud to fill the
interstices. Thus when he had contrived to cut through the stems a
large piece of the wall was freed, with the mud still clinging to it.
Dick swung it open very slowly and peeped out. Then he replaced the
section, and once more went the round of the hut, peering in all
directions. Not a soul was moving, and even the guards had thrown
themselves down beside the log fire disconsolately, for the news
received that day was most disheartening.
"Not time to move yet," he thought. "They look quiet enough, but they
are not sleepy. I'll wait a little, and then we'll see what happens."
An hour later he swung the section open and stared out. Then he
squeezed through the opening and threw himself flat on the ground.
Wriggling a few inches along beside the hut he soon obtained an
unobstructed view of the street, and could see the twinkle of the dying
embers, with, here and there, a figure crouching over them. There were
the guards, too, drowsing near one of the fires, their weapons dangling
beside them. A dog barked in the distance, and for a little while a
number of the curs which infested the streets of the horrible town set
up a chorus of responsive howls, which were more than disconcerting.
One of the guards stirred, while a man who had been crouching over one
of the distant fires, no doubt thinking of the fighting in prospect,
rose and sauntered along till he arrived near the hut, where he opened
up a conversation on the same old subject.
"They are at the Prahsu, these white dogs," he said. "What will be our
fortune now? What think you, comrade?"
"How should I know or be able to guess?" was the sulky answer. "Go to
our fetish men. Or better, be patient for a little. There are the dogs
whom we have bound out in the forest. If they die to-morrow we conquer.
If not--"
"We die. We shall do that. Listen to one of them groaning. Is that
the call of a dying man?"
He held up his hand and pointed across the street, and away across the
enclosure where the executions had taken place, to the forest beyond,
and as he pointed there came the call of a man in pain, strong and
clear, and full of power.
Dick shuddered, while the guards and their visitor became suddenly
silent. They had much to think about, and could obtain little comfort
from their wise men and soothsayers. The auguries were all against
them. Strange things were happening. The tale was abroad that a child
had just been born who was able to converse fluently immediately after
its birth. Then some falling star had struck the town. And now, the
men who had sat so patiently at the coast, were advancing in spite of
sacrifices, in spite of a liberal shedding of blood. There was little
comfort for the Ashantis. Talking made matters worse. It was better to
go to the privacy of one's own hut and brood alone over the trouble.
Dick heard the stranger bid good-night. Then he watched his figure
disappearing. A minute later he was on his feet, creeping across the
dark patch of ground intervening between his prison and the next
habitation, where James Langdon dwelt.
For a moment we must leave Dick, while we turn to the leader of the
British expedition at the coast, and see what arrangements he had made
for the difficult task before him. For this campaign was no trifling
affair. It was not an ordinary war, wherein battles of great importance
might be expected, with open fields for manoeuvring, but a conflict
wherein our troops and their leaders would have to engage with many
unexpected difficulties, and meet face to face a danger greater than
that offered by the enemy. It was bad enough at the coast, where there
were cool, fresh breezes on occasion, though to be sure the place had
well earned its name of "the white man's grave," but up-country, in the
forest and jungle, with its numerous swamps, its unhealthy exhalations,
its damp heat, and its rotting vegetation, there lurked the germs of
fever, the worst form of ague, that fell disease which has slain so many
men of our race, and with which it may be rightly said our scientists
are only now becoming fully acquainted. Its symptoms, its shivering
attacks, its racking fevers they know well, as intimately as they can be
known; as also the fact that recurrences take place, that many a man
long since returned to England has attacks of jungle fever, or whatever
he may care to term it. But the method of transmission of this malady
to human beings was not so certain a matter, and few knew then rightly
how to battle with it. It was, in fact, the enemy to be contended with,
and had any one doubted that, he had only to ask at the coast and sum up
the number of men and officers already placed _hors de combat_ on its
account. This was first and foremost to be a doctors' war, and when all
available precautions were taken, it became next a war against forest
and jungle, and the foes who might be lurking there.
To reach Kumasi was no light undertaking, even if no opposition were to
be expected, and the decision to advance upon it by land made the
difficulty all the greater. It would be hard to say who was responsible
for this, though it would seem that those at home, wholly unacquainted
with the coast perhaps, were allowed to have a say in the matter. In
any case materials were sent out for erecting a light railway, and were
disembarked at great cost and labour. And with what result? It was
hard enough to cleave a path thirty inches wide through the jungle and
forest, let alone one of five feet; while the necessary transport was
not forthcoming. And so the railway material lay where it had been
landed, while labourers and carriers were employed from amongst the
natives, hundreds of whom had flocked to the town owing to the
incursions of the Ashantis. Sappers set them their tasks, and as the
weeks crept on a path was hewn through the forest in a direct line to
the Prahsu. Sometimes open ground relieved the labour, and here and
there stations were formed, and food and ammunition collected. At last
the bend of the river was reached, and unhindered by the enemy, who were
in the vicinity, the sappers bridged it and laid out a little town for
the accommodation of the troops and the small escort sent to defend this
advance station. Finally the promised troops came, and the advance
commenced. Of the force engaged the bulk may be said to have been
British, for our native allies, with few exceptions, proved useless
cowards. A few men of the Assim tribe made excellent scouts under Lord
Gifford, while other natives did like service. But for fighting the
majority were hopeless, and very rightly no dependence was placed upon
them. Elsewhere, operating from another quarter, was a larger force of
more reliable natives, from the Lagos district, close to Benim, under
command of Captain Glover, and though their actions were of little
service, a small portion of the force was to be heard of later. They
were operating on the Rio Volta, the river forming the boundary between
the Gold and Slave Coasts.
It must not be supposed that because the Ashantis, who had invaded the
protectorate, hesitated to interfere with the working parties hewing a
road to the Prahsu and carrying supplies there, they did not come into
conflict with our marines and bluejackets who, in many cases, formed the
garrison at the depots which had been formed. Those at Dunquah, a place
some twenty-odd miles from the coast, had a smart brush with the enemy,
while at Abracampa a huge force of Ashantis, numbering ten thousand at
least, suddenly surrounded the post. Like so many of the others, it was
but a native village, placed in a small natural clearing, and now
roughly fortified. The garrison was a very slender one indeed, and yet
in spite of that fact they held the enemy at bay, killing very many of
them. Time and again the attacks were repeated, till at length
reinforcements arrived, and taking the enemy unawares dispersed them
with great slaughter. In the enemy's camp numerous rifles, guns,
umbrellas and war-drums were found, besides evidences of sacrifices. In
fact, wherever the Ashantis had been, grim relics were left behind, all
of which only added to the keenness of our men to reach Kumasi and put a
stop to such barbarities.
And now the prospect was brighter. The second battalion of the Rifle
Brigade was already _en route_, while the Welsh Fusiliers and the Black
Watch were a little way in the rear. On the road also were Royal
Artillery, Engineers, Marines, surgeons, Commissariat officers, and war
correspondents, amongst the last the familiar figure of G.A. Henty,
whose name must be well known to thousands and thousands of boys and
grown men, and whose active brain created heroes in every country and
clime under the sun.
From Cape Coast Castle the troops marched to Inquabin as a first stage,
and from there through various stations, all with more or less
unpronounceable names, till they came finally to the Prahsu, sixty-nine
miles from the sea. There they found Sir Garnet completing his
preparations for the march upon Kumasi. The troops had toiled for the
most part in single file along the narrow forest tracks, and they knew
that the same work was before them. But they did not know what their
leaders had taken to heart; that the forest on the far side of the river
might and probably did hide thousands of enemies, and that that tract
must be crossed, and the town of Kumasi captured within the next
fortnight. For already there were not wanting signs that the rains were
about to commence, and when they set in tracks through the forests would
become swamps and narrow streams great swirling rivers. Worse than all,
rain and wet soon play havoc with a man, and in a fever-stricken
country, such as the land of Ashanti, predispose to an immediate attack.
Having dealt with the movement of the troops, and shown how Sir Garnet
and his men had diligently pushed forward to the Prahsu, and had, by
dint of bush fighting, and particularly by their actions at Dunquah and
Abracampa, driven the Ashantis from the protectorate, we can now return
to Kumasi.
The night was rather dark, but fine. Overhead the stars twinkled, and
could be seen through the leaves of the trees which lined the main
street. One tree grew in front of each house or hut, and was fetish or
sacred. At its roots were placed odd bits of crockery, a rough
doll-shaped image, and other objects, all regarded as fetish and likely
to lull the anger of the mighty fetish which kept the people in its
grip, and which held sway at the execution house and temple to which
Dick had been led.
"If it had been raining it would have been better, perhaps," thought the
escaping prisoner. "But I don't know. All depends on the luck I have.
The plan may work well, and our friend may find himself caught in a net
of my weaving this time. If so, then I shall not mind the light so
much. Now for the chance to enter."
He had crept across the open space between the two huts, and was now
close against the wattle wall behind which James Langdon was sleeping.
As he lay at full length Dick could hear the ruffian's deep breathing,
and when a few minutes had passed could catch his mutterings. He
stirred, and Dick heard the soft bed of palm-leaves, upon which he lay,
rustle at the movement. But our hero made no attempt at escape, nor did
he move from his position. He waited, as calmly as he could, though it
was hard to smother his excitement and still the thumping of his heart.
There was so much to be attempted, and such a terrible ordeal to look
forward to if he failed. Across his mind's eye flashed the memory of
that awful scene close to the brass sacrificial bowl. The rows of
intended victims, forced to look on at the sacrifice, their hunted
looks, and the agony on the face of the one about to be sacrificed.
Then there was the mob, with the warriors dancing their wild dance of
death and brandishing their weapons; while in the background, smug and
complacent, like Nero of old, sat King Koffee, tall and fat, nodding a
signal when the moment for execution came. For half an hour, as Dick
crouched in the shadow, the memory of the horrid scene flitted
continuously before him. Then he stood up suddenly and clenched his
hands together.
"I won't let such things take my pluck away," he said in a hoarse
whisper. "I'll think of the friends on the river and at the coast.
This brute is responsible for all my miseries, and it is his turn to
suffer. He has brought me here. Well, he shall help me to return."
He pulled up the cuffs of his tattered sleeves, as if to prepare for a
struggle, then he crept round to the door of the house. There was a
native stool there, a heavy article, and he grasped it and lifted it
well above his head. Then, without hesitation, he knocked loudly upon
the door.