Stanley uttered an involuntary hurrah as the leopard expired; and
at the sound the Burman, who had been lying motionless, leapt to
his feet. He looked at the leopard, and then at his rescuer, and
exclaimed in a tone of astonishment:
"You have slain the beast alone, and with no weapon but your
knife!"
"No," Stanley replied; "I began the fight with my knife, only; but
caught up one of those guns when I wounded him, and fired as he
charged me. Then I finished him with the other."
"Comrade," the Burman said, "you have done a great deed, with
courage. I, who am esteemed no coward, would never even have
thought of attacking that great leopard with but a knife, and that
to save the life of a stranger."
"I saw the guns lying on the ground. Had it not been for that, I
should not have dared to attack the leopard, for it would have been
certain death."
"Certain death, indeed. But tell me, first, how you did it. It
seems to me well nigh a miracle."
"I was passing along, not far distant, when I heard your cry,"
Stanley said. "Thinking that it was some person in distress, I ran
hither, and saw you both lying, with the leopard's forepaws upon
you. The beast's back was turned to me and, as it was growling, it
had not heard my approach. Seeing the guns lying there--and having
no doubt that they were loaded--I stole up, sprang suddenly on the
leopard, and drove my knife into it behind the shoulder. The blow
rolled it over, and gave me time to pick up the gun. The rest was
easy."
The man, without a word, examined the body of the leopard.
"It is as you say," he said. "It was well struck, and would
probably have been fatal; but the animal would have torn you in
pieces before he died, but for the guns.
"Well, comrade, you have saved my life; and I am your servant, so
long as I live. I thought all was over with me. The leopard, as it
sprang, threw its full weight on my comrade, here. We had just
risen to our feet; and the blow struck me, also, to the ground. I
raised that cry as I fell. I lay there, immovable. I felt the
leopard's paw between my shoulders, and heard its angry growlings;
and I held my breath, expecting every moment to feel its teeth in
my neck.
"I had but one hope, namely, that the beast would carry off my
comrade--who, I was well assured, was dead--to the jungle to devour
him, and would then come back to fetch me. I managed to breathe
once, very quietly, when I felt a movement of the leopard and,
hearing a low sound, guessed that he was licking my comrade's
blood; but slightly as I moved, the leopard noticed it, and stood
straight up again over me. I dared not breathe again, but the time
had come when I felt that I must do so, though I was sure that it
would be the signal for my death.
"Then I knew not what had happened. There was a sharp pain as the
leopard's claws contracted, and then there was a loud roar, and its
weight was removed from me. Then I heard it snarl, as if about to
spring. Then came the sound of a gun, a fall, and a struggle; and
then the sound of another gun. Then I heard your shout, and knew
the beast was dead.
"Now, sir, what can I do for you? Shall I first skin the leopard?"
"I care not for the skin," Stanley said. "It would be of no use to
me."
"Then, with your permission, I will take it off, and keep it as
long as I live, as a remembrance of the narrowest escape that I
ever had."
"Is your comrade dead?"
"Yes," the man replied. "The leopard struck him between the
shoulders as you see; and the force of the blow, and the weight of
the spring, must have killed him instantaneously."
"Then I will take his sword, gun, and cartridges."
So Stanley undid the sword belt, and buckled it round him; put the
bandolier of cartridges over his shoulders; and took up the gun and
reloaded it, while the man was at work skinning the leopard. This
operation the man performed with great speed. It was evidently one
that he had done before. As soon as the beast was flayed, he rolled
up the skin and placed it on his shoulder.
"You are an officer, sir?" he asked.
"No; I am a fugitive."
While he had been watching the man, Stanley had debated over
whether he should confide in him; and thought that, after the
service he had rendered him, he could do so with safety.
"I am an Englishman--I was captured by Bandoola, at Ramoo, and sent
a prisoner to Ava. I have escaped, and want to make my way down to
Rangoon; but I heard that orders had been sent along the river to
arrest me, and I do not, at present, know how to make my way down."
"Come with me," the man said. "I have friends in the forest, some
distance from here. They will receive you gladly, when I tell them
what you have done for me; and you will be safe until you choose to
go. We are outlaws but, at present, we are masters of the forest.
The government has its hands full, and there is no fear of their
disturbing us."
Stanley thought over the matter, for a minute or two. Doubtless it
was a robber band that he was asked to join, but the offer seemed
to promise safety, for a time.
"I agree," he said, "so that you do not ask me to take part in any
deeds of violence."
"About that, you shall do as you like," the man said; "but I can
tell you that we make good hauls, sometimes. Our difficulty is not
to capture booty, but to dispose of it.
"Have you a turban? For that helmet of yours is out of place, in
the woods. The rest of your dress has nothing peculiar about it,
and would attract no attention."
"I have a turban. I have been, lately, in the dress of a peasant.
The cloth I wore lies fifty yards away; I dropped it as I ran. It
will be useful to cover me at night, if for nothing else."
Stanley exchanged the helmet for the turban that he had before
worn, and fetched the cloth.
"Will you bury your companion?" he said.
"It would be useless. He will sleep above ground, as well as below
and, if we are to reach my comrades tonight, it is time for us to
be moving."
They at once set out. After five hours' walking, they came upon the
river Myitnge, the tributary that falls into the Irrawaddy at Ava.
It was some four hundred yards across. The Burman walked along its
banks for a short distance, and then pulled from a clump of bushes
a small boat, that was just capable of carrying two. He put it in
the water. They took their seats, and paddled across to the other
side; where he carefully concealed it, as before.
"That is our ferry boat," he said. "It is not often used, for our
headquarters are in the great forest we shall presently come to;
but it is as well when, occasionally, parties are sent out to hunt
us, to have the means of crossing to the other side."
Another two hours' walking, through cultivated fields, brought them
to the edge of the forest.
"Here you are as safe as if you were in Rangoon," the Burman said.
"In another hour we shall reach my comrades. As a rule, we change
our headquarters frequently. At present there is no question of our
being disturbed; so we have settled ourselves, for a time."
"Why were you and your comrade on the other side of the river?
"His village lies five miles beyond that forest," the man said. "At
ordinary times, he dared not venture there; but he thought that, at
present, most of the able men would be away, and so he could pay a
visit to his friends. He asked me to accompany him and, as I had
nothing better to do, I agreed to go. A convoy of traders, too
strong to be attacked, had passed down from the hill country the
morning before we started. There was not much probability that
anyone would come again, for a few days."
"They bring down rubies from there, do they not?"
"The mines are the property of the emperor," the man said, "and the
gems are sent down, once every two months, under a strong guard;
but for all that, many of the traders bring rubies down from
there--of course, secretly. The men who work the mines often
conceal stones that they come upon, and sell them for a small sum
to the traders; besides, sometimes the peasants pick them up
elsewhere--and these, too, make haste to sell them for anything
that they can get. We do not care for them much, for it is a risky
business going down to Ava to sell them; and the traders there,
knowing that, at a word from them, we should be arrested and most
likely executed, will give us next to nothing for them. We prefer
silver and lead for money; and garments, arms, and set jewels.
"Each man takes his share of what is captured and, when we have
enough, we go home to our villages. A pound of silver, or two or
three pounds of lead, are generally quite enough to buy the
goodwill of the head man of the village. We give out that we have
been working on the river, or in Ava, since we left; and everyone
knows better than to ask questions."
In another hour, they reached the encampment. It was now dusk, and
some five-and-twenty men were sitting round a great fire. A number
of leafy arbours had been constructed in a circle beyond them.
"What, returned so soon!" one of the men said, as Stanley's guide
came near enough for the firelight to fall on his face; "but where
is Ranji, and whom have you brought here--a new recruit?"
"Not exactly, Parnik, but one to whom I have promised shelter, for
a while. Ranji is dead. I should have been dead, too, and eaten;
had it not been for my comrade, here. Here is the skin of the beast
who slew Ranji and, when I tell you that the leopard stood with one
paw on me, you may guess that my escape was a narrow one."
"The brute was a large one," one of the other men said, as
Meinik--for such was the name of Stanley's companion--unrolled and
held the skin up. "I see it had a bullet between the eyes, and
another just behind the ear; and there is a knife cut behind the
shoulder. It must have been hot work, when it came to knives, with
a beast of that size."
"Give us some food, and cocoa; we have eaten nothing today, and
have walked far. When we have fed, I will tell you my story."
The Burman's recital of the adventure with the leopard excited
great applause, and admiration, from his comrades.
"'Tis wonderful," one said, "not so much that our new comrade
should have killed the leopard, though that was a great feat; but
that, armed only with a knife, he should attack a beast like this,
to save the life of a stranger. Truly I never heard of such a
thing. Has he all his senses?"
Meinik nodded. He had received permission from Stanley to say who
he was. Stanley had consented with some reluctance, but the man
assured him that he could trust his companions, as well as himself;
and that it was much better to tell the truth, as it would soon be
seen that his features differed altogether from their own and that,
therefore, he was some strange person in disguise.
"He is in his senses," he said, "but he does not see things as we
do. He is one of those English barbarians who have taken Rangoon,
and against whom our armies are marching. He was captured at Ramoo;
and sent by Bandoola, as a prisoner, to Ava. He has made his escape
and will, in a short time, go down the river; but at present the
search is too hot for him. So you see that he is, like ourselves, a
fugitive."
"What is his age?" one of the men asked, after a silence, during
which they all gazed at the newcomer.
"He is but a lad, being as he tells me between sixteen and
seventeen; but you see his skin is stained, and his face marked, so
as to give him the appearance of age."
"If the men of his race are as brave as he is, Meinik, our troops
will truly have harder work than they think to drive them into the
sea. Does he speak our tongue?"
"Yes," Stanley answered for himself. "I have been more than two
years in the province of Chittagong, and learned it from one who
was in our service."
"And would many of your people risk their lives in the way you did,
for a stranger?"
"Certainly. Many men constantly run risks as great to save others."
"One life is all a man has," the Burman said. "Why should he give
it for a stranger?"
"I don't think that we stop to think of that," Stanley said. "It
seems to us natural that if we see another in danger of his life,
we should try to save it; whether it is a man or woman, whether it
be from fire or from any other fate."
"You must be a strange people," the Burman said gravely, "and I
should scarce have credited it, had I not heard that you had done
it, yourself. But it is wonderful; and you, too, a lad who has not
yet come to his full strength.
"We should be glad to have such a man for our comrade, my friends.
Whether he be Burman or English matters little. He has risked his
life for one of us; and he is our brother as long as he likes to
stay with us."
There was a warm exclamation of assent, round the circle; and
Stanley felt that he had no cause for uneasiness, as long as he
remained with them. In the evening the men sang many songs and, at
their request, Stanley sang some English ones, choosing some with
lively airs. The Burmese were much pleased and surprised at these,
and joined merrily in the chorus.
Half a dozen of them then set to work with their knives, cut down
some saplings and boughs, and constructed for Stanley an arbour
similar to the others; and he lay down well satisfied with the
results of his adventure, and feeling that he could remain with
these merry fellows, criminals though they might be, until it would
be safe to make his way down the river.
In the morning the men started early, leaving him in charge of the
fire. They went off in parties of four or five, to watch the
various roads leading to the capital; two or three of them, dressed
as peasants, going to towns where travellers would halt, so as to
gain information as to any party coming down. When they gathered
again, at dusk, one party only had had any success. They had met
six merchants coming down with horses laden with spices, indigo,
and cotton. These had offered no resistance, and they had taken as
much as they could carry, and then allowed them to go on with the
rest of their goods. There was a general feeling of regret that the
party had not been more numerous; and some expressions of anger, at
the spies on the road by which the traders had come, for not
letting them know beforehand, so that they could have placed their
whole force there and carried away all the goods.
"These are the things that suit us best," Meinik said to Stanley.
"You see, one can go down with a parcel of cinnamon or pepper, or a
bag of dyes, or fifty pounds of cotton into the town; and sell it
in the market, at a fair and proper price. Of course, one dresses
one's self as a small cultivator; and there is no suspicion,
whatever, that all is not right.
"We shall keep a sharp lookout for the men, as they come back
again, and relieve them of the silver or goods they may have taken
in exchange; that is, if they come by the same road--but it is more
likely that, after their adventure today, they will choose some
other, or take a guide and travel by village tracks. No doubt they
think that they have got off easily, for they have not lost more
than a quarter of their goods. It is war time now, and there is no
fear of a force being sent against us; but usually we do not take
so much as a quarter of the merchandise. Were they to lose
everything, they would make complaints; and then we should have a
force sent up against us, and be obliged to move away, for a time.
But as it is, they are so pleased with getting the greater part of
their goods safe to market that they do not care to make a fuss
about it; for they might have to pay the court officials, and
others, more than the value of the goods lost."
"They do not often resist, then?"
"Not often. If a man loses his goods, he can gather more again; but
when his life has gone, everything has gone. Besides, as a rule we
take care that we are so strong that they see, at once, that
resistance would be hopeless. Sometimes they bring armed guards
with them. These are men who make it their business to convoy
traders down, when the times are troubled. Sometimes we have fights
with these but, as a rule, we seldom attack them unless we are so
strong that they do not dare to oppose us. Still, we do have fights
sometimes, for these Shan guards are brave fellows. Their convoys
are generally rich ones, for it would not pay small traders to hire
men to protect them.
"In times of peace, we seldom stop long in one neighbourhood for,
when it once becomes known what road we are lying near, they come
along in parties too strong to be attacked and, as it matters
little to us where we live, we move away perhaps a hundred miles,
and then settle on another line of traffic. We have not been here
long; we were last down by Tannoo, and did well for a long time
there; until at last the governor raised all the villagers, and
hunted the woods, and we found that we had to leave. I expect we
shall stay here some time, now. There is no fear of troops being
sent out, and we can afford not to press too hardly on travellers;
for we have done so well, of late, that we could separate and
return to our homes, each with a good store of booty. Half our
number did leave, when we came up from the south; and more of us
would go, if it were not for this order that everyone shall join
the army. It is much pleasanter to live here, free to do as we
like, than to be driven down like a herd of beasts, to fight.
Besides, we have no quarrel with your people. It was the officials
at Aracan who began it; let them fight, if they like."
Stanley remained a fortnight with the band. At the end of that
time, they heard that a party of thirty traders were coming down
together, and that they had with them ten armed guards. This, they
no doubt supposed, was ample protection for, as the band generally
worked in such small parties, it was believed that there were but a
few outlaws in the forest. All the band went out, and returned in
the evening, laden with spoil. Two or three of them were wounded,
but not severely.
"So you had resistance today, Meinik."
"It lasted only for a minute," the man said. "As soon as they saw
how strong we were, the guard were glad enough to put up their
swords and let us bind them hand and foot, while we searched the
merchants. As you see, we have made a good capture, though we have
not seized more than a fifth of what they brought down with them;
but it will take them some time to pack their bales again, for we
searched everything thoroughly, and made all the merchants strip,
and searched their clothes and their hair."
"What did you do that for?"
"Well, it was this way. I said to my comrades, as we went along
this morning:
"'The Englishman is going to leave us, in a day or two. I have not
forgotten what I owe him, and should like to make him a present. I
propose that we search all the party thoroughly, today. From what
we heard, some of them come from the ruby country, and are pretty
sure to have gems concealed about them, or in their baggage. I
propose that all the stones we find we will give to our friend.'
"They all agreed at once for, as you know, they all like you; and
rubies, as I told you, are of little use to us, for we cannot
dispose of them without great risk. So they did as I proposed, and
had good fortune. Twelve out of the number had gems hidden about
them, and some of them a good lot. You need not hesitate to take
them, for you may be sure that they bought them, for next to
nothing, from poor fellows who had risked their lives to hide them.
"There they are. We have not looked at them, but just emptied the
parcels into this bag, as we found them. Of course, they are all
rough stones. You must take them as a present, from all of us; and
as a proof that a Burman, even if he is but a robber, is grateful
for such a service as that you rendered him."
Stanley felt that he could not refuse a gift so offered, even
though the goods were stolen. As Meinik said, the gems were of
little use to the robbers, since they were afraid to try and
dispose of them; and their owners had themselves broken the law in
having purchased them, and had doubtless given sums bearing no
proportion to their real value. Therefore he thanked Meinik very
heartily; and also, after they had had their meal, the rest of the
band, who made very light of the matter.
The things were useless to them, they said. If it had been silver,
or even lead, it would have been different; but to endeavour to
sell rubies they had to risk their lives. The goods that they had
got that day would fetch them far more money than the rubies, and
could be sold without difficulty and, as soon as the war was over
and they could go down to their villages, the band would break up.
They had enough silver and lead hidden away to keep them for years,
even if they never did any work, whatever.
"What do you do with it, when you get back?"
"We hide it. It would never do to enter a village with ten or
twelve pounds' weight of silver, and three or four times as much
lead, for the headman might take it into his head to have us
searched. So we generally dig a hole at the foot of a tree, in some
quiet spot; and take, perhaps, a pound of silver and two or three
of lead with us. A gift of half that silver is enough to convince
the headman that we are honest fellows, who have been working hard
since we went away; and from time to time we can go to our store
and get what we want from it, and can build a house and marry, and
take up a field or two, and perhaps become headmen ourselves,
before very long."
"Well, I am sure I wish you all well," Stanley said. "You have all
been very kind to me, since I joined you; and I shall be glad to
think of you all as settled quietly down in your villages, rather
than as remaining here when, some day or other, you might all be
captured and harm come to you."
The next morning Stanley started with Meinik, who was a native of a
small village on the river, some forty miles below Ava, and who had
resolved to accompany him down to Rangoon.
"I shall be able to get a boat and some nets, for a pound or two of
lead. If we are hailed, I can do the talking; and can land and buy
provisions, if wanted. I have arranged with my comrades to take my
share of the silver and lead we have stored up, at once; for it is
likely that they will also have gone to their homes before I shall
have returned, and we have changed everything into money, except
what we took yesterday."
Before starting Stanley was again dyed, and the tattoo marks
imitated--far more carefully than before, three or four of the men
operating upon him, at once. His face was almost entirely covered
with these marks. Some liquid was applied that extracted the colour
from his eyebrows, and left them snow white. Some of his hair was
similarly treated and, looking at himself in a pool of water,
Stanley did not in the slightest degree recognize himself; and felt
certain that no one would suspect him of being the young English
captive.
Resuming his peasant's cloth, he took a hearty farewell of the band
and started with Meinik. The latter carried a bundle, slung on his
gun. It contained some clothes, and did not look heavy; but in the
centre were two parcels that weighed some forty pounds. Stanley
carried a bundle with his other clothes, and several pounds of
rice.
Two days' walking took them to Meinik's village. Once out of the
forest they travelled at night, and reached the village just as the
people were astir. The place consisted of ten or twelve huts, and
Meinik created quite an excitement among the few people who
inhabited it. These consisted of two or three old men, some women,
and children.
"Where have you been for the last year and half, Meinik, if I may
ask?"
"Working near Ava," he said; "but as I should have to go to war if
I had remained there, I thought that I would come back, and see how
you all were. I have saved a little money, and may settle down; but
whether here or elsewhere I have not yet made up my mind."
"You will have to go to the war," one of the old men said. "There
is scarce a day that one of the war canoes does not stop here, to
see if there are any able-bodied men. They have taken eight, and
they will assuredly take you."
"Then I shall get a boat," he said, "and take to fishing. The war
cannot last long, and I shall do my best to keep out of the way of
the war canoes, until it is over. If any of you have a boat to
sell, I will buy it."
"I will sell you mine," the old man said. "Both of my sons have
been taken to the war, and I am too old to work it myself. It is a
good one; my sons made it only last year.
"Whom have you with you?"
Stanley had remained a short distance off, while Meinik was talking
to his friends.
"He is an old man I joined along the road," he said. "He is a
skilful fisherman; and he has agreed to go with me, if I can get a
boat.
"Is there an empty hut?"
"Yes, six of them. Of course, when the men were taken they carried
off the wives and children, as usual, as hostages for their
conduct."
Meinik nodded. He felt no surprise, as it was the custom in Burma
to hold the women and children of all the men going to the war, as
guarantees that their husbands would not desert or show cowardice
in battle. In either event their relatives would be, at once, put
to death.
"My companion is tired," he said. "We walked all night, so we will
cook some food and he will sleep."
They at once took possession of one of the empty huts, which was
just as it was left by its proprietor. One of the women brought a
brand or two from her hearth. An earthen cooking pot was filled
with water and placed above it, and a few handfuls of rice dropped
in. Two or three snakes, cut up into small pieces, and some pepper
pods were added; and then Meinik went out, talked to his
acquaintances, and arranged for the purchase of the boat. Stanley
watched the fire.
In an hour, Meinik returned.
"The boat is a good one," he said, "and the nets in fair order. I
have bought them for two pounds of lead; and have promised that,
when the war is over and the man's sons return, it is to be free to
them to buy it back, at the same price."
After eating their meal, they both lay down and slept until late in
the afternoon. Then Meinik bought an earthenware pot, and a flat
slab of the same material for making a fire on; some peppers and
capsicums, and a little cinnamon and nutmeg; a basket of mangoes,
and some tobacco. As soon as it became dusk, they took their places
in the boat, Meinik carrying down two or three faggots of wood.
The boat was a canoe, hewn out of a pine log. It would have carried
four people comfortably, and there was plenty of room for them both
to lie down at full length. It was very light, the wood having been
cut away until it was little thicker than cardboard. This was the
almost universal method of construction: even the war canoes, that
would carry sixty paddlers--sitting two by two on a bench--and
thirty soldiers, being hewn from great single logs of teak. The
nets were stowed one, at each end. In the middle was the fireplace,
on which the brands of the fire had already been laid. Near it were
the faggots and stores.
Meinik and Stanley sat on the nets, each with a paddle. The former
had hidden the greater portion of his store of money in the ground,
before entering the village. As soon as they had fairly started,
Stanley said:
"Had we not better get rid of the fire, Meinik? Its light would
draw attention to us."
"That matters little," the Burman replied. "There are not likely to
be war canoes about at night, and I expect that most of them will
have gone down the river. People fish either by night or by day
and, even if a war canoe came along, they would not trouble about
it for, of course, many men too old to go to the war remain here,
and go on fishing. People cannot starve because there is fighting.
The old men and women must cultivate the fields and fish, or both
they and the people of the towns would starve.
"Many even of the young men do not go. They keep away from their
villages during the day, and work in the fields; and the headmen
shut their eyes, for they know that if the fields are not
cultivated, the people cannot pay their share of the taxes.
"Still, it is as well to be on the safe side. When the fire has
burnt low we will lay a cloth over the top of the boat, so that the
glow of the embers will not be seen."
They kept their course near the middle of the river; partly because
the current there was stronger, partly because any war canoes that
might be coming up would keep close to one bank or the other. They
kept on their way until there was a faint gleam of light in the
sky; and then paddled into the shore, chose a spot where some
bushes drooped down into the water and, forcing the canoe in behind
these, so as to be entirely concealed from the sight of any passing
boat, cooked some food and, having eaten their breakfast, lay down
and slept until evening.
Illustration: They forced the canoe behind bushes, so as to be
entirely concealed.
Night after night the journey was continued. Their supply of food
was ample to last them; and there was, therefore, no occasion to
stop at any village to purchase more. The river, at the point where
they started, was about two miles wide; but at some points it was
double that width, while at others it contracted to little over a
mile. Its level was much lower, now, than it had been when Stanley
ascended it, two months before. Sometimes at night they towed one
of their nets behind them, and obtained an ample supply of fish for
their wants.
Each night they made, as Stanley calculated, about forty miles and,
after ten days' travel, they came to the point where the great
river divided, one small arm running down to Rangoon; another
descending to Bassein, and then falling into the sea at Cape
Negrais; while a large proportion of the water found its way down
by innumerable branches between the Rangoon and Bassein rivers.
For the last two or three days they had been obliged to observe
great caution for, below Prome, there were numbers of boats all
going down the river laden with men and stores. These, however,
only travelled by day; and the canoe was always, at that time,
either floating in the shelter of bushes, or hauled up on the bank
at spots where it could be concealed from view by thick growths of
rushes.
"We shall never be able to get down to Rangoon by water," said
Meinik. "The river will be crowded with rowboats near the town; and
there will be no chance, whatever, of making our way through them.
At the next village we come to, I will go in and learn the news.
Your countrymen may have been driven out by this time and, in that
case, there will be nothing to do but to travel north on foot,
until we reach Chittagong."
"I have no fear that we shall be driven out, Meinik."
This conversation had occurred on the night when they had passed
the point of division of the two arms of the river. They had caught
a larger supply of fish than usual and, as soon as the boat was
laid up, Meinik started along the bank, with a number of them, for
the nearest village. He returned in two hours.
"It is well I landed," he said, "for the point where the greater
portion of our people are gathered is Henzawaddy, only some fifteen
miles further on.
"You were right; your people have not been driven out. A large
number of our troops are down near Rangoon but, in the fighting
that has taken place, we have gained no advantage. Your people
marched out at the end of May, carried a stockade; and advanced to
Joazoang, and attacked some villages defended by stockades and
carried them, after having killed a hundred of our men. Then a
great stockade on a hill near the river, three miles from
Rangoon--which our people thought could not be taken, so strongly
was it protected--was attacked. The guns of your people made a
great gap in a stockade a mile in front of it. Two hundred men were
killed, and also the commander.
"Then your people marched on to the great stockade at Kemmendine.
Your troops, when they got there, saw how strong it was and were
afraid to attack it. They lay down all night, close to it; and we
thought we should destroy them, all when they attacked in the
morning; but their ships that had come up with them opened fire, at
daybreak. As the stockades were hidden from the sight of those on
the river, we had thought that the ships could do nothing; but they
shot great balls up into the air, and they came down inside the
stockade, where they burst with an explosion like the noise of a
big gun; and killed so many that the troops could not remain under
so terrible a fire, and went away, leaving it to your people to
enter the stockade, without fighting."