JIM SCROGGLES RESCUED, AND GLYNN AND AILIE LOST--A CAPTURE, UPSET,
CHASE, ESCAPE, AND HAPPY RETURN.
The merciful manner in which God sends deliverance at the eleventh hour
has been so often experienced and recognised, that it has originated the
well-known proverb, "Man's extremity is God's opportunity;" and this
proverb is true not only in reference to man's soul, but often, also, in
regard to his temporal affairs.
While the wretched sailor was uttering cries for help, which grew
feebler every moment as he sank deeper and deeper into what now he
believed should be his grave, his comrades were hastening forward to his
rescue.
Alarmed at his prolonged absence, they had armed themselves, and set out
in search of him, headed by the trader and led by the negro, who tracked
his steps with that unerring certainty which seems peculiar to all
savages. The shrieks uttered by their poor comrade soon reached their
ears, and after some little difficulty, owing to the cries becoming
faint, and at last inaudible, they discovered the swamp where he lay,
and revived his hope and energy by their shouts. They found him nearly
up to the neck in mud, and the little of him that still remained above
ground was scarcely recognisable.
It cost them nearly an hour, with the aid of poles, and ropes
extemporised out of their garments, to drag Jim from his perilous
position and place him on solid ground; and after they had accomplished
this, it took more than an hour longer to clean him and get him
recruited sufficiently to accompany them to the spot where they had left
the canoe.
The poor man was deeply moved; and when he fully realised the fact that
he was saved, he wept like a child, and then thanked God fervently for
his deliverance. As the night was approaching, and the canoe, with
Ailie in it, had been left in charge only of Glynn Proctor, Jim's
recovery was expedited as much as possible, and as soon as he could walk
they turned to retrace their steps.
Man knows not what a day or an hour will bring forth. For many years
one may be permitted to move on "the even tenor of his way," without
anything of momentous import occurring to mark the passage of his little
span of time as it sweeps him onward to eternity. At another period of
life, events, it may be of the most startling and abidingly impressive
nature, are crowded into a few months or weeks, or even days. So it was
now with our travellers on the African river. When they reached the
spot where they had dined, no one replied to their shouts. The canoe,
Glynn, and the child were gone.
On making this terrible discovery the whole party were filled with
indescribable consternation, and ran wildly hither and thither, up and
down the banks of the river, shouting the names of Glynn Proctor and
Ailie, until the woods rang again. Captain Dunning was almost mad with
anxiety and horror. His imagination pictured his child in every
conceivable danger. He thought of her as drowned in the river and
devoured by crocodiles; as carried away by the natives into hopeless
captivity; or, perhaps, killed by wild beasts in the forest. When
several hours had elapsed, and still no sign of the missing ones could
be discovered, he fell down exhausted on the river's bank, and groaned
aloud in his despair.
But Ailie was not lost. The Heavenly Father in whom she trusted still
watched over and cared for her, and Glynn Proctor's stout right arm was
still by her side to protect her.
About half-an-hour after the party had gone off in search of their lost
companion, a large canoe, full of negroes, came sweeping down the river.
Glynn and Ailie hid themselves in the bushes, and lay perfectly still,
hoping they might be passed by. But they forgot that the blue smoke of
their fire curled up through the foliage and revealed their presence at
once. On observing the smoke, the savages gave a shout, and, running
their canoe close in to the bank, leaped ashore and began to scamper
through the wood like baboons.
Only a few minutes passed before they discovered the two hiders, whom
they surrounded and gazed upon in the utmost possible amazement,
shouting the while with delight, as if they had discovered a couple of
new species of monkey. Glynn was by nature a reckless and hasty youth.
He felt the power of a young giant within him, and his first impulse was
to leap upon the newcomers, and knock them down right and left.
Fortunately, for Ailie's sake as well as his own, he had wisdom enough
to know that though he had possessed the power of ten giants, he could
not hope, singly, to overcome twenty negroes, all of whom were strong,
active, and lithe as panthers. He therefore assumed a good-humoured
free-and-easy air, and allowed himself and Ailie to be looked at and
handled without ceremony.
The savages were evidently not ill-disposed towards the wanderers. They
laughed a great deal, and spoke to each other rapidly in what, to Glynn,
was of course an unknown tongue. One who appeared to be the chief of
the party passed his long black fingers through Ailie's glossy curls
with evident surprise and delight. He then advanced to Glynn, and said
something like--
"Holli--boobo--gaddle--bump--um--peepi--daddle--dumps."