Bang! Dick's knuckles struck the door of the native hut with a sharp
rap, and he repeated the knock immediately. Then he listened eagerly
for some sound from the sleeper within. There was no answering call,
and nothing to denote that the man was there.
"Fast asleep," thought Dick. "But he is there, I know, for on the far
side I could hear his breathing. I'll knock again."
He was in the very act of doing so when out of the corner of his eye he
caught sight of one of the drowsy guards who lay beside the dying fire.
The man had, apparently, heard the knock, and had sat up now to see what
it meant. Then he sauntered towards the prisoner's hut as if to
investigate the matter. The escaping prisoner's heart stood still,
while his wits worked rapidly.
"If I returned and crept through they might discover the opening, and
then good-bye to liberty," he thought. "If I stay here he will see me.
I'll get behind the hut, and if there is an alarm I'll run for it. Yes,
that will be the best plan."
He watched the guard closely as he rose to his feet, and then silently
slid along behind the hut. And as he did so the native strolled towards
the place where the half-caste lived and peered at the door. Then he
retraced his steps to the prison, and throwing the catch down, stared
in. Once more the prisoner held his breath while he tingled with
excitement. He stood on his toes, ready at the first alarm to sprint
away down the street, while his eye rapidly picked out the most likely
path to take. Then he heaved a sigh of relief, relief the like of which
none can appreciate but those who have found themselves in similar
positions. The guard must have mistaken a shadow, perhaps a portion of
the palm-leaf bed, for the prisoner, and been satisfied. He emerged
from the hut, and once more sauntered up to the door of the one in which
James Langdon lay. As he did so, a sound within told that the sleeper
had awakened. He stirred, came to the door and threw it open, staring
out at the man suspiciously.
"You knocked?" he exclaimed. "It roused me, but I was heavy with sleep
and did not rise at once. What is wrong? You have let the prisoner
escape! Dog! You have let him go at the very last moment!"
He sprang from the doorway and gripped the man by the throat, digging
his fingers in till the native choked and dropped his musket. His eyes
dilated; he struggled with all his might, striking fiercely at the
half-caste, and then suddenly became limp. Indeed, when James Langdon
released his hold, the man fell helpless to the ground. But it seemed
that he was more frightened than hurt, for Dick had long since
discovered that all in Kumasi treated the rascal who had decoyed him
into captivity with unusual deference, owing perhaps to his friendship
with the King, though of late his power had been declining as that of
the British rose. The native gasped, held up an arm, and endeavoured to
speak, while the half-caste stood over him with the musket as if he
would club his brains out with the butt.
"Say he is gone and I will kill you on the spot," growled the ruffian.
"If he is safe, well and good. You shall be uninjured. But why, then,
did you knock?"
"Knock! I was lying at the fire keeping watch on the prison when I
heard a sound and came to see what it was. Doubtless, some one moved in
a neighbouring hut and disturbed me and you also. Then I went to the
prison, and found the dog there, fast asleep in his corner."
"But some one knocked. I swear that. It roused me, I tell you!"
The native rose feebly to his feet and glanced askance at the
half-caste.
"It must be as I say," he ventured. "The sound came from some other
hut. In any case, the prisoner is safe."
He went off to his fire again, muttering beneath his breath, for of late
the ruffian who had taken up the cause of the Ashantis had been somewhat
curious in his manner. Gathering troubles, perhaps an uneasy
conscience, and the ever-present dread of impending punishment, which
seemed to come closer and closer in spite of all his efforts, were
having their effect. His temper was harsh and easily aroused, he was
hard to please, and wore nowadays a haggard look, showing clearly that
his sleep was disturbed.
"Dreams! dreams!" growled the sentry, as he took his seat again.
"Dreams and the fire-water which he has been drinking. It is said that
he and the King sit in the palace of a night, smoking and taking
fire-water. No wonder he sees and hears things which do not exist. I
have felt the same myself."
And the same conclusion must have been dawning upon the troubled mind of
the rascal standing at his door. He began to wonder whether he had
actually heard the knocking, or whether it was another of those dreadful
nightmares which had troubled him of late, in which a huge bluejacket,
with bristling beard, had stood above him waiting for the word to thrust
his cutlass to his heart. He groaned, then stretched his arms and
yawned, and turned towards the prisoner's hut. He walked a few paces in
that direction, and, seeming to change his mind and be satisfied with
the tale of the sentry, he turned about and entered the hut again. Dick
at once stole round to the door, his stool still grasped in his hand.
"I would rather have it like that," he thought. "He is awake and able
to take care of himself. He had a revolver strapped at his belt, and
therefore is armed, far better than I am. He shall have a glimpse of
me, and then--Well, it is his life or mine, and I have given him
warning."
There was no time to hesitate, and though Dick would have scorned to
strike a defenceless man, he had every excuse for making an attack upon
this rascal who had so often injured him. He hardened his heart,
therefore, and having ascertained that the guard, who had so recently
appeared, was seated near the fire some little distance away, and with
his back turned in that direction, he slipped up to the door and knocked
ever so gently.
"Again! It is a knock! I am not mistaken. Well!"
James Langdon, boiling over with indignation, and with his fiery temper
fully roused, strode to the door revolver in hand and threw it open.
Then he fell back a pace in sheer amazement, while he stood for an
instant staring at the figure barring his path. Used to the dense
darkness of the interior of the native hut, his eyes picked out the
features of his prisoner almost instantaneously. It was his turn to
gasp this time. The suddenness of the apparition took his breath away
and robbed him of his energy. Then, in a flash, he realised that this
must actually be his prisoner, the youth to whom he put down all his
miseries. A snarl escaped him, and his fingers closed tighter on his
weapon. In less than a second he would have had it at Dick's head and
pulled the trigger had not the latter acted. He was satisfied now; he
was attacking an armed man who had due and proper warning. Dick struck
with the swiftness of lightning, the heavy stool hitting the half-caste
across forehead and face and knocking him senseless. But the matter was
not finished yet, and as the rascal fell, Dick was swift to follow up
his advantage. He clutched at the man and lowered him gently to the
floor. Then he took his revolver, and, throwing himself on his knees,
peered out at the sentry. The man had turned on his elbow and was
looking towards the hut, for he had heard the sound of the blow and he
was not quite satisfied.
"Fighting with his shadow," he growled at length. "It will be a good
thing for us when the fire-water kills him, or a British bullet settles
his account. But for him I should be sleeping in comfort, and not
sitting here, feeling as if I still had his fingers about my gullet.
Bah! Let him dreamt. Let him shoot himself if he wishes."
The fellow expressed little surprise when, some few minutes later, the
figure of the half-caste emerged from the hut and stood out in the open.
The native watched him through half-closed eyes, while one hand sought
for his musket.
"At the risk of my life I will shoot him if he lays a hand on me again,"
he said. "But it would lead to certain execution."
The figure stood lolling against the wall of the hut, with his hat drawn
down over his eyes, his collar turned up at his ears, while his hands
were sunk in his pockets. He was cold. He shivered and then stamped
his feet. A little later he began to pace backward and forward, and as
if a sudden thought had occurred to him, went to the door of the prison.
He threw it open, glanced in, and then shut and barred the door again
with every sign of satisfaction.
"Safe and sound," he said. "He will not escape the knife of the
executioner. You can go. You and your comrade. I cannot sleep, and
will keep watch myself."
Astonishment and delight were written on the features of the guard, but
he did not demur. The opportunity to be rid of a hated duty was too
good to be ignored, and at once, rousing his comrade, the two went off
down the street. And Dick watched them as he lolled there, hands in his
breeches pockets. He had taken an enormous risk in acting as he had
done, but he felt that it was the surest way to regain his liberty. He
argued with much justice that dressed in the clothes of the half-caste
he would be taken for that ruffian, while the darkness would hide all
deficiencies. As to the voice, he could simulate that. He could speak
gruffly, as if the night air affected his throat, while he had
sufficient command of the language now to carry the plan out fully. And
so far it had succeeded.
"Which means that my escape will probably not be discovered till
to-morrow morning. Perhaps not even then. That will give me a start,
and with a little luck I shall be able to get well away. Now for food
and ammunition."
He dived into James Langdon's hut again, and searched for the articles
which he required. Some minutes later he reappeared, and having
ascertained that the coast was clear, he strode down the wide street of
Kumasi, his eyes peering in all directions in search of an enemy. He
had arrived at a point only a little distance removed from the opposite
end of the town, when a sound suddenly startled him. It was the voice
of a man in agony--a deep, heart-rending groan, which brought him to an
abrupt halt, and set him listening to its repetition.
"One of the poor beggars whom these ruffians tied up in the forest to
die," he said to himself. "If I could I'd help him. But how can I
manage such a thing? I'd not leave this place without trying to rescue
the other Europeans if I thought that possible. But it's not. They are
scattered, and the attempt would be fatal. My word! what cruelty!"
The groan came to his ears again, and after it a second, deeper in tone,
as though forced from the lips of the wretch who uttered it by the
utmost depths of misery and pain. It was horrible! If Dick's blood had
stirred at the sight of the cruelties perpetrated by the executioners,
it boiled now at the thought of those two unhappy natives, captives of
the Ashantis, who had been tied up in the forest, their cheeks
perforated with the knives to hold down the tongue so that they could
not talk, and left there to moan and die soon if the fates were to be
kind to Kumasi and its King, and to the unfortunate victims also, or to
live on in abject suffering for many days, till thirst and starvation
brought unconsciousness.
"I'll go to them," he said, after a minute's thought. "I can't leave
this awful place with their groans in my ears. I'll risk releasing
them, and perhaps they may help me."
His resolution was made and adhered to in spite of the obvious delay and
danger it would cause. But he had a soft heart, and could not bear to
think of such misery. Turning aside he slipped down between two of the
houses and came to a foetid stream, in which, no doubt, lay the bodies
of many of yesterday's victims. He crossed it in safety, standing back
a little way and jumping as far as possible into the darkness. Then
there were other houses to pass, and another row of dying embers, before
none of which could he see a single Ashanti. They were all abed, and
the only denizens of this loathsome place who were awake were a few
stray mongrel curs, one of which started from its lair beside one of the
houses, and hearing the thud of Dick's feet as he landed on the far side
of the stream, set up a loud barking, which was taken up almost
instantly by a score of others elsewhere. But suddenly a gruff voice
from within one of the huts commanded silence, and the baying ceased.
"Then I can go on," said Dick. "I thought it was going to lead to more
trouble, for if the dogs were to sight me they would follow, making
enough noise to awake the whole of the town. Here we are. Here is the
forest, and I fancy I am in the right direction."
It was still very dark, and, in fact, had it not been for the many
fires, he would hardly have found his way as he had done. Perhaps he
would have blundered against one of the huts, or even come upon some
wanderer. Not that he would therefore have been discovered to be an
escaping prisoner. He would have carried out his _role_ of being the
half-caste, and if that failed there was the revolver. But fortune
favoured our hero on this occasion, and in a little while he gained the
forest and plunged into its black depths. Groping his way blindly
through it, striking his shins against fallen boughs and trunks of
trees, and sometimes almost breaking his head against similar
obstructions, he finally found himself on a native path, along which the
way was easy.
"A piece of great luck," he thought, "and this probably leads to the
spot where the poor fellows are imprisoned. I'll keep along for a
little, and then give them a whistle."
But he had no need to do that, for after a little while, when he had
traversed some fifty yards or more, the same miserable groan came to his
ear, and gave him indisputable evidence of the proximity of the
captives. A few minutes later he was close to them, and, passing to the
two trees to which they were bound, ran his hands over their bodies.
The miserable natives had been placed some two feet from the ground
against the trunks of enormous cotton trees, and their hands and feet
had been dragged backwards by means of ropes, and so tightly that they
did not slip to the ground. The agony of such a position can be
imagined, and if to that be added the torture of two native knives
thrust right through the cheeks, some estimate can be obtained of the
barbarities practised by the Ashantis, of their insane and meaningless
cruelty, and of the urgent need there was for some more enlightened
nation to come to the town and stop the practice. Dick slid his hand up
to the cheek of the first of the unhappy men, and gently withdrew the
knives. Then he spoke to him in low tones.
"Who are you?" he asked, first in Ashanti, and then in the Fanti tongue.
"We are Assims," came the answer, low and indistinct, for the knives had
almost robbed the man of the power of speech. "We were captured months
ago and imprisoned at Kumasi. Who are you?"
"A white man from the coast, also a prisoner, till an hour ago. Will
you swear to follow me if I set you free?"
There was no mistaking the earnestness of the reply, or the man's
eagerness to be cut free of his lashings.
"Release us, and we shall owe you our lives," he answered. "We are set
here to die, and if you give us life and liberty, we will follow you and
fight for you. We are allies of the great white chiefs, and you can
trust us."
Without more ado Dick took one of the ghastly knives and cut the man
down, doing the same for his comrade a minute later. Stretching them
with all care and gentleness on the ground, he set to work to rub their
limbs, for it was not so long ago that he had experienced the cruel
result of tight lashings. He had known what it was to feel a tingling
in his extremities, and then acute pain, as if feet and hands would
burst. And later, when the cords were cut loose, the agony of returning
life to his limbs, the inability to move finger or toe or to support his
weight. And to cure him the inhuman monster who had borne the name of
James Langdon had thrashed him till strength had come. Well, the
half-caste was dead. Dick had struck him a blow which had crushed in
his skull as if it had been an egg-shell, and thinking of it now as he
rubbed the limbs of these poor fellows, he could only rejoice, and
congratulate himself that he had done bare justice.
"It was man to man," he thought. "He deserved his death, and he had due
warning. It was not as if I had knocked and then struck him in the
darkness of the hut. I gave him a chance, and--well, the best man won.
Now, how are you both?"
The poor fellows were trembling with joy, and wept freely. By now they
had regained to some extent the use of their hands, and they, too,
rubbed at their feet till they were able to stand and hobble a few
paces.
"We will wait till you are quite able to walk," said Dick. "We have far
to go to-night, and it will be better to sacrifice a few minutes here
than to lose them on the road. Do not hurry. Soon you will be strong
again."
"We are fit to go now," at last said the spokesman of the two. "Where
will the white man turn his face?"
"To the Pra. Our troops are there, and if we can meet them we are safe.
Do either of you know the road?"
There was an exclamation from both at once.
"We have marched it time and again," said one. "As slaves we have
accompanied the Ashanti armies, and we can find the road even in the
dark. But we must be careful. There are thousands of men about, and if
we met them we should be killed."
"Then you will want weapons. Pick up the knives and tuck them in your
waist cloths. Now lead the way. Better still. We will cut a vine and
hold on to it. Then there will be no straggling."
A little later the three set out, the leader setting the direction along
the path without a moment's hesitation.
"It will lead us to the main war road," he explained, "and after that
all will be easy. There is but one way to the Pra, for the forest is
too thick for many paths to be cut. Follow, white chief, and I will
take you to the river."
All that night the trio kept on through the forest, their way made easy
by the path cut and kept free of undergrowth with constant labour. Now
and again they would call a halt, for the two captives whom Dick had
rescued were still very feeble, and their feet and ankles were greatly
swollen. But it is wonderful what an amount of ill-treatment a native
can put up with at times, and how marvellously they recover from the
most serious of wounds. True, they have as a rule little stamina, and
sickness cuts them down by the hundred. But perhaps because of the life
they lead these natives of Africa often show less sensitiveness to pain
than do Europeans, and therefore can put up with injuries which with the
majority of white men would prove quickly fatal. And so, in spite of
the hours that these men had been dangling, they were able to march, for
the wounds in the cheeks were of small consequence. When day dawned
many miles intervened between themselves and Kumasi.
"We will seek for a hiding place and rest," said Dick, as the light
beneath the trees grew stronger. "As the afternoon comes we can push on
again. Let us gather some fruit and have a meal."
Late on the following afternoon three weary men, one a white youth
dressed in tattered clothing which showed signs of much travelling,
tottered across the bridge which the engineers had erected across the
Prahsu, and made for the hutted camp of the British. On all sides men
were bustling to and fro. Natives were carrying bales and boxes on
their heads, sailors and soldiers were lolling about the open camp
fires, smoking their pipes and yarning, while at the far side of the
bridge was a kilted sentry, striding to and fro. He stared at the
new-comers, brought his rifle from the slope, and dropped the bayonet
level with Dick's chest.
"Not so fast, me lad," he said gaily. "Where from? Whom do you want to
see? 'Alt, or there's going to be trouble."
That brought them up suddenly and set Dick laughing.
"A fine welcome after two months' absence," he said. "Sentry, I want to
see the Chief of the Staff, and after that Mr Emmett. As for where
I've come from, Kumasi is the answer. Now, how long have you been
here?"
"My business, young feller," was the reply, when the sentry had
recovered from his astonishment at being answered in his own tongue, for
Dick might have been of any nationality. "Yer want the chief, do yer?
'Ere, Corporal McVittie, take these fellers to the sergeant of the
guard."
A little later our hero, with his two black companions, was being
marched under escort in amongst the huts, and was finally brought to a
halt opposite a collection of tents devoted to the use of the leaders of
the expedition. There were British officers standing or sitting in
front of many of these, while the dress of some showed that they
belonged to the Royal Navy. At one end of the line a Welsh Fusilier
paced his solitary beat, while a blue-jacket, burly and heavily bearded,
did sentry duty at the other end. And it was this latter individual who
first recognised the new-comer.
"What's this!" he gasped, stepping a little way from his beat. "'Ere,
sergeant, split me! but that 'ere's Mr Stapleton! Mr Dick Stapleton!
Do yer 'ear me?"
His face flushed red with indignation at the sight presented to him, but
discipline was discipline, and already he had said too much. However,
before the sergeant of the guard could answer, a number of officers
emerged from a tent close by and faced the white youth and natives under
escort. There was a loud exclamation of surprise, and in a moment Dick
was gripping the hand of the Chief of the Staff, while close to him was
Jack Emmett, bronzed with the sun, eagerly waiting for his share in the
greeting.
"Bless my life! Dick Stapleton, reported as missing on the river!
Where on earth have you come from? And looking so wan and thin, too!"
"From Kumasi, sir. I was taken prisoner, and escaped two nights ago. I
brought these two Assims along with me. They had been tied up in the
forest to see how long they could live without food and water, I suppose
so that the enemy might have some augury of their fortunes. They know
the ground perfectly, sir. You asked for that information, and here it
is."
There was a commotion in the camp for more than an hour, and as the
night fell, and the men gathered about their huge log fires, every
tongue wagged on one story alone. But the noise was greatest where the
bluejackets had their quarters, for there reclined the crew of the
launch which had returned so disconsolately from their quest up the
river. As for Dick, he had been feted by the officers, and ever since
had been engaged with the members of the staff, to whom he gave all his
news of Kumasi, and drew sketches of the road leading to the town.
"You have our congratulations," said the Chief, as he rose to bid him
good night, "and I may say that you have done us inestimable service, so
much so that, though it is not the usual custom, and is, indeed, an
exceptional occurrence, we shall send your name home in our despatches.
And now for to-morrow, when we advance. You, with your two natives,
will be well in our front with the remaining scouts under Lord Gifford
and others. When you come to Kumasi you may find it necessary to fall
back on us for support."
"And if the Ashantis are in the same condition of panic, may I advance,
sir?" asked Dick, quietly. "I have every reason for asking the
question, for I know roughly the whereabouts of the captives, and if I
can get in at an early hour, I may be able to save them."
"You shall have more men. You shall have your old crew, my lad. I know
well that you will lead them discreetly. Save these prisoners for us,
and you will have completed some very fine work. There. Off you go,
Mr Stapleton. I would willingly keep you and listen to all you have to
say, but I see that you are very tired. And besides, we are off at
cock-crow tomorrow."
Once more he shook hands with our hero and nodded adieu. Then he
stepped across to the tent occupied by Sir Garnet, and told him of the
remarkable occurrence.
"A really gallant and modest lad, General," he said, feelingly. "I
could not be prouder of him had he been my own son."
When morning dawned on the following day the hutted town was all bustle
and hurry, and very soon the bridge over the river resounded to the
tramp of many feet, for the punitive army was on the march. The last
stage of this short and historic campaign had commenced.