SUNSHINE'S HEROISM
Kirke insisted upon Ralph's wound being redressed at intervals all
through that dreadful day, whatever else was being done.
"What's the use?" said Ralph, with a quaint smile.
"I don't mean to leave a stone unturned," replied Kirke. "Somehow, I
feel as if _you_ had a future before you whatever comes to the rest of
us. You have nine lives, like that poor cat, which really seems content
in the little one's lap after all its suffering."
Ralph gave a short laugh, with a ring of bitterness in it. "While there
is life there is hope, you think," said he.
"Just so," replied Kirke.
Again the day wore on, and the sun sank in the west.
"It must soon be decided now," said Kirke. "Shake hands, old fellow, I
am glad we met here, whatever befalls."
"God for the right!" exclaimed Ralph, as their hands met. They then
separated, for they had agreed each to command at one edge of the
circle, and it was time to assume their places.
None too soon, either, for, directly that the dusk made all things
obscure, the attack once more began.
It was probable that the dacoits themselves had run short of powder on
the previous evening, and had utilised the day by going to their homes
to fetch more, for again they commenced by blazing away at long range.
But Kirke made the people crouch low, and had, through the day,
considerably strengthened his defences, so that the firing caused few
casualties for a long time. The besieged could only have returned the
attack by stone throwing, which would have been of little use as long as
the enemy remained under cover, and at a distance, while it would have
betrayed the exhaustion of their ammunition.
He therefore counselled a passive endurance of the firing, hoping by
this means to lure the dacoits out of their cover into closer quarters;
and this subterfuge took effect.
The dusky figures crept out from behind the trees, and advanced
stealthily.
Kirke waited until they were within a couple of yards of the stockade,
then sprang suddenly to his feet, and shouted--
"Now, my friends!"
A pelting shower of stones seconded his cry; the enemy's advance was
checked, the line wavered, broke, and began to retreat, when a shot rang
out from the jungle,--a fatal, too well-directed shot, aimed at Kirke's
tall commanding figure, and he fell.
With a cry of dismay, Ralph sprang to the side of his friend, but the
dacoits took fresh courage, and dashed at the defences in a body, like a
dark wave pouring over a rocky shore.
The flimsy barriers rocked and gave way before them, and all were
inextricably mixed up at once in a deadly hand-to-hand warfare.
Ralph, standing astride the body of his friend, fought like a madman.
The ground beneath his feet grew slippery with blood; one--two dacoits
fell beneath the desperate blows of his clubbed gun, over which he found
that his hands took a better purchase than over the shaft of a spear;
but his strength was deserting him, his adherents were falling around
him, his head reeled, his sight began to fail him, and the sickness of a
fainting fit nearly overpowered him. He believed his last moment was
come, when--what sound met his ear? He must be delirious, mad--it could
not be an English cheer! It could never be the gallop of horses'
feet--many horses, tearing madly along the forest path?
But again it came, nearer and nearer. "Hallo! hallo! Hurrah! There they
are!" and a party of horsemen in white uniform dashed upon the scene.
The tide of battle was turned, the dacoits tried to fly; the English
police officers rode them down, shot them down, struck them down;--no
mercy was shown. The robbers fought like demons, desperate in their
turn, but all were killed or taken prisoners in half an hour, bound,
cowed, conquered, and the fray was over.
The English officer came up to shake his rescued countrymen by the hand,
with frank, hearty greeting on his lip, but Ralph had thrown himself
down on the ground, his face buried on the breast of his dead friend,
choking with sobs.
Mr. Brudenel, for it was he, felt a moisture arise to his own eyes at
the sight. He turned aside, and brushed his hand across them, then knelt
by Ralph's side, and laid a kindly hand upon his shoulder.
"I am very sorry," said he; "would to God that I had been here but one
hour sooner."
"But one hour, but one little hour," moaned the boy. "Oh, my friend! my
dear, true friend!"
"It was the fortune of war, sir," said the officer. "It was the will of
God. Be a man, sir; your friend did not suffer."
"No," said Ralph, rising, "it was all in one minute. Oh, Kirke, Kirke! I
cannot yet believe it that you are gone."
He sank down again, for he could really not stand. The excitement which
had given him fictitious strength was over, and all his powers were
exhausted.
Brudenel signed to his men to lift and carry him to a short distance,
where they laid him down upon a mat, cast water on his face, and poured
some drops of stimulant into his mouth.
Some of the Burmese women drew round and fanned him, others brought all
they had which they fancied might be of service.
Leaving him to the best among these, Mr. Brudenel turned to his other
duties. The wounded must be attended to, the dead buried, the surviving
dacoits marched off to prison.
Moung Shway Poh, who seemed to bear a charmed life, for he had come out
of the affray unharmed, was clamouring a farrago of boastful
explanations, servile gratitude, and accounts of his own great bravery
in defending the countrymen of his royal lord's self. Fatigued by the
clamour, of which he believed nothing, Mr. Brudenel swore at him for a
noisy nuisance, and Mr. Grandfather turned to bestow his eloquence upon
one of the native policemen, whose politeness was greater.
All was done at last, some sort of order restored, the dead were buried,
and Brudenel engaged to send assistance to the villagers in rebuilding
their houses. Two or three of his men were left as a guard, with plenty
of powder and shot, and the little encampment made as comfortable as
circumstances permitted for the present.
A hasty litter was prepared for Ralph, and carried by four of the
villagers, hired for the purpose; and the horsemen mounted for their
return journey.
"By the bye," said Mr. Brudenel, turning back in the saddle as he
prepared to start,--"By the bye, my wife has taken good care of that
brave child, and she shall return in the bullock-bandy which will bring
you the things I have promised to send you, along with your friends here
who are carrying this gentleman."
"Child,--brave child? Who do you mean, paya?"
"Why, the brave little maid who came alone through the jungle to send us
to your assistance. You must make much of her, for it was the deed of a
heroine. You would not find many, much older than she, who would have
done so brave a thing."
Ralph raised himself upon his elbow. "Oh!" cried he, "was it Sunshine,
the little maid whom we missed?"
"I did not ask her name," replied Brudenel. "She said that the white boy
had saved her life, and that of her grandmother; and she had walked
twenty miles, over mountains and through jungle paths, to fetch us. She
was quite exhausted on her arrival, and Mrs. Brudenel kept her to rest
and recruit. You all owe your lives to her."
"God bless her!" murmured Ralph.
Yes, it was little Miss Sunshine to whom they had all owed their rescue.
She knew of what the dacoits were capable; she was very fond of both
Kirke and Ralph, who had petted her, taught her many things, given her
many little treasures, ingeniously contrived after English fashion.
They had played with her, and been always courteous to her--as gentlemen
should ever be. No sooner had Ralph fetched her down from the blazing
hut, than she hid herself in the jungle to watch the course of events.
She saw the repulse of the dacoits, and tracked them to their lair in
the jungle afterwards.
There, understanding their speech so thoroughly, she discovered that the
leader was the terrible Moung Nay Nya, the tiger, the terrible robber
who was tattooed by the "Bandee-tha," and carried a ghastly "beloo" upon
his chest, inoculated with a preparation compounded of dead men's flesh,
which he had also chewed during the whole time that the operation had
lasted.
The "beloo" nature had thus entered into him, and given him the strength
and ferocity of a wild beast itself. Sunshine had often heard of him,
and shuddered, from the place of her concealment, to observe the marks
which she had so often heard described.
There was the horrible demon face on the man's broad muscular chest,
with tail wound in voluminous folds around it, and claws extended
beneath. There were the square-shaped charmed indentations which
prevented bullet or sword-thrust from injuring the tiger-man, tattooed
in both red and blue; there was a row of charmed stones let in beneath
the skin of his neck, each of which endowed him with some wizard power
or ensured him safety in combats.
She noticed the long lean arms, the powerful hands, the muscular body,
the sunken cheeks and cruel determined mouth, and trembled in every limb
to think of his seizing her. She softly slipped farther and farther back
under the shadow of the trees, and thought.
Did this terrible tiger-man succeed in capturing her dear English boy,
what tortures might he not inflict upon him were the ransom which he
would certainly demand not paid! She could not bear to think of it. The
tales which she had been told might have been exaggerated, but many of
them were too true, nor did the appearance of the man belie them.
Sunshine believed them all.
While she hesitated, uncertain what to do, little Golden-leaf's pet cat
came crying up to her, telling, in its own fashion, its story of fright
and trouble, and glad to meet with a well-known friend. But, fearful
lest the little creature should betray her whereabouts to the dacoits,
she turned and fled, followed for a little way by the cat, but soon
beyond the boundaries familiar to it, and it turned back to meet with
the cruelty which the girl escaped.
She ran and ran till she was tired, then sat down to rest, and cry. All
at once, a resolution entered her mind. She would make her way to the
police-station, where she would be safe, and whence aid for her friends
would certainly be sent to them.
She wished that she had thought of it before. The day was bright now,
she knew in which direction the station lay, but she did not know how
far off it was.
Bravely did she set out, walking on, on, on; climbing steep hills,
wading through marshy places, cutting her bare feet with
stones,--hungry, tired, and disheartened, but persistent. She had to
rest many times, and the day wore away and night fell.
She struggled on to a pagoda which she saw on the side of a hill, and
where she thought that she would pass the dark hours safely. She did not
expect to find shelter there, for she knew that these erections were
solid blocks of bricks, not buildings with chambers and apartments in
which people lived. This one was deserted and ruinous. It had been a
pious work to build it, but, the original founder having long been dead,
it was not the business of anyone else to repair it as it became
dilapidated under the influence of wind and weather. The piety which
might have induced such a proceeding would not be counted to the score
of the man who repaired, but to that of the first builder, in the other
world.
"Let everyone take care of himself," the Burman says, and leaves his
father's good deeds to fall into decay, while he ensures his own
salvation by putting up another showy building.
Sunshine made her way to this place, holy in her simple eyes; and there,
climbing up a pile of fallen bricks, found a fairly comfortable and
sheltered seat, where she crouched all night long.
At first she clasped her arms around her knees, and looked out upon the
dim landscape, the winding stream shining in the valley beneath her, the
brilliant stars in the deep blue sky above,--seeing nothing of the
beauty of nature, but deeply impressed by its mystery, gazing straight
before her with wide-open eyes of awe and distrust. But gradually
fatigue overpowered her, and, leaning her head back against the stones,
she fell asleep.
Her sleep lasted long, and she woke when the sun was already high;
arising stiff, hungry, and thirsty, to another toiling journey. First
she would go down to the stream and drink. As she stooped, she saw a
troop of horsemen cantering along the farther bank, taking their morning
exercise. She knew the British dress--these were the people whom she was
seeking; she stumbled through the stream, limped up to Mr. Brudenel, and
implored him to ride fast to the rescue of her friends.
"Oh, paya! paya!" she cried, "the dacoits burn our village, they murder
all,--ride quickly and save my father. There are Englishmen there, they
will murder them too,--ride fast, fast to save them!"
Mr. Brudenel put quick questions to her; eliminated the chief features
of the case; ordered one of the men to take the poor weary girl up to
the station, and ask Mrs. Brudenel to look after her; galloped back for
arms and reinforcements; and, on fresh horses, headed his troop for the
rapid ride to the scene of action; arriving, as we have seen, when the
besieged had come to their last gasp, and not in time to save all.