The Trial of my Comrade--He wounds Zolca--The Death of Paul--We destroy
the Mongol Junk.
The captain left for the Abrolhos the next morning, and now a stern duty
remained to be undertaken.
Paul had been kept in confinement and closely watched, only his wife
being permitted to see him. Namoa had been intrusted with the charge of
him, and there was no danger of his escaping, for the Quadrucos had only
to look around at their ruined homes and ravaged valley to renew afresh
their determination to wreak vengeance on the traitor.
If I could have saved Paul I would. This I solemnly aver, but it was not
to be; his deeds had been too black.
I was determined, however, that he should have a trial such as was the
custom of civilized nations, and persuaded Zolca that it would make more
impression on the people.
Namoa and five other men of standing were then selected, and Paul was
warned that the next morning he would be tried for his life.
He asked permission to see me, and, of course, the request was granted.
That evening I went to him. He told his wife to leave the house, and we
were alone. I sat down by him, and, truth to tell, my heart was heavier
than if I had had to face the executioner in the morning. I took my
guilty comrade’s hand, and we sat for some time in silence.
“I am sorry that they did not capture Captain Sharpe,” he said at last.
To this there was no answer to be made, for I thought differently.
“Diedrich,” Paul went on, “I did not ask to see you to upbraid you, but
you could have saved me if you would.”
“How?” I asked.
“When you made terms with Captain Sharpe you could have stipulated that
he should take me away and give the others up.”
Now, this was another proof of how these men, who were ready to mutiny
at any moment, were equally ready to sacrifice their friends to save
themselves. Paul cared not a jot for the fate of Berghen and the
others, so long as his escape had been provided for.
“Paul,” I replied, “when I made terms with Captain Sharpe we were
fugitives hiding for our lives. Through your treachery we had to fly to
the mountains, and watch our valley and town being destroyed. Is it
likely that any thoughts of mercy would find room in my heart just then?
Did you attempt to rescue me when Berghen had us confined and guarded?”
Here Paul broke down, and confessed the plot to murder us which I have
already detailed.
“I deserve nothing but death, Diedrich,” he concluded, “but, at least, I
can say that neither when you were surprised, nor during the attack on
the camp, did I raise my hand against you or Zolca’s people.”
This I believed, for I knew well that Paul was brave enough, but yet I
had seen nothing of him whilst the skirmishing was going on.
We sat long talking, but I had few words with which to comfort him. I
knew his doom was sealed, and he accepted the fact.
I left him towards the middle of the night, and his wife went back to
keep him company. He had hinted several times that I should assist him
to escape to the bush, but I refused to listen. Not to save Paul’s life
ten times over would I be guilty of such treachery to Zolca, my brother.
Paul was tried in a large open space in the centre of the town, all the
inhabitants being present, grouped round in a circle. I had to preside,
as none of the others knew anything about such a mode of procedure.
Retribution amongst uncivilized races is short and sharp, without any
pretence at trial.
Paul met his coming fate boldly enough. He did not evince any outward
fear, although he must have known that death was hanging over his head.
Speaking in the Quadruco language, I appealed to Paul to confess his
guilt, and prepare to meet his end; for, if I had had any doubt as to
what his fate was to be, one look at Zolca’s face would have been
sufficient to tell me. The fair valley, now a scene of desolation; the
ruined houses; the wreck of what had been a flourishing and fruitful
settlement, were there to witness against Paul.
In answer to my appeal Paul acknowledged his misdeeds, and owned that he
could no longer be trusted.
I then made an appeal on his behalf, trying to explain, as well as I
could in their language, that Paul had been led away by his desire to
return to his own people, and that we should keep him a close prisoner
until the return of Captain Hoogstraaten from the Abrolhos, who would
take him away altogether.
My speech had no effect; I could see that in the faces of all present.
Zolca sprang to his feet and commenced a fiery oration, pointing to all
the wreck and desolation around, which excited his audience to frenzy,
and I wonder now that they did not rise and slaughter all of those of
their own people who had gone over to the pirates. At the conclusion
Zolca turned and asked me what to do. In reply I turned to those around,
and asked them what punishment they decreed.
“Death!”
The whole crowd shouted the doom, but Paul never blenched, though the
word seemed to ring and echo up the valley in a hundred reverberations.
There was silence for a moment.
“What death am I to die, Diedrich?” said Paul, without a tremor in his
voice.
I turned to Zolca, and he answered:
“The same death as your friends. Hung up on a rope.”
“Never!” cried Paul, and leaping on Zolca he snatched the old cutlass
from the king’s belt, and, before a hand could be raised, cut him down.
Too late, alas!--for the whole thing was instantaneous,--I caught Paul
by the wrists, and even as I did so he was stabbed by every one of the
infuriated Indians who could get near enough to do it. I relaxed my
grasp and he fell dead, with a dozen fatal wounds in his body.
I next turned my attention to Zolca. The blow had been struck at his
head, but in his mad haste Paul had only wounded him on the shoulder, at
the base of the neck, and the blood was gushing from the wound. I made
the Quadrucos, with the exception of one or two, draw back, and with the
aid of strips torn from our dresses, managed at last to staunch the
bleeding. A litter was soon made, and on it we carefully conveyed the
senseless body to his house.
The dismay of Azolta and Zolca’s wife may be imagined, but the former
retained her presence of mind, and took her place by her wounded
brother. I was almost in despair myself, as I had no knowledge of
surgery, and knew that the wound wanted skilful treatment which I could
not apply to it, in fact might make matters worse.
In this extremity some one called from outside:
“Captain Diedrich!”
Going out I found the Dutch gunner left behind by Hoogstraaten, who had
witnessed the trial from some distance. He asked me about the king, and
I told him my trouble.
“That is the reason I came to you,” he said. “I have often assisted the
surgeon, and when we had that scuffle with the pirate there were a good
many cutlass wounds to be attended to. I have some material for dressing
in my kit, and if you will allow me I will examine the king’s wound.”
I could have fallen down and worshipped the man. He went to the house
that had been allotted to him, and presently returned with some bandages
and a sponge.
When we re-entered the house Zolca had recovered from his faint, which
had been caused by loss of blood. His first question was as to the fate
of Paul, and he listened with satisfaction to the manner of his death.
The sailor now proceeded to examine the wound, and I told Zolca to lie
still without speaking. Although the man’s hands were rough and hard, he
seemed to understand what he was about. The blood had been soaking
through the rough bandages I had applied, but after he had strapped it
up in a more skilful manner this stopped, and I felt much relieved.
I then went out to see to the burial of Paul’s body, but the sailor told
me that the Quadrucos had almost hacked it to pieces, and then taken it
to the beach. Going down there I found a number assembled, watching the
bay, and learned that they had taken the mangled corpse out and thrown
it to the sharks. That was the end of Paul, after escaping death in a
hundred shapes.
Now commenced a rather trying time. Zolca’s wound healed but slowly, and
he himself pined at the inaction of a sick-bed.
Meanwhile there was plenty of work to be done. The gunner proved a
blessing indeed, not only did he do the work Hoogstraaten had left him
to do, but he attended to the others who had been wounded in the fight,
and I ever found him a worthy, honest man.
The Quadrucos soon got their spirits back; the drill at the guns and the
work of restoring their houses banished thought from them, and the place
soon began to assume something of its old look before war had desolated
it.
For me it was different; the sickness of Zolca, and the consequent
depression of my wife, affected me greatly, added to which I could not
forget the death of my old companion, Paul; for, no matter what his sins
had been, we had been comrades together through years of wandering in a
desert and unknown land, and I could not forget it.
The gunner had one gun planted on the headland which commanded the
entrance, the other on an elevation from whence any ship, escaping the
first battery, could be safely bombarded. I think he prayed that a junk
might turn up, and, strange to say, his prayer was answered. He was a
burly fellow of the name of Hessel, and I am sure that he thoroughly
enjoyed his life amongst the Quadrucos, about fifty of whom he had
drilled into good musketry-men.
A watch was kept on the headland, day and night, for the return of
Hoogstraaten, and one night a light was seen to the northward. This, of
course, could not be the discovery-ships, and when the news was brought
to me I went and woke Hessel the gunner. He chuckled at the news.
“Wait until daylight, Herr Diedrich, and you will see how I will make
the rogues skip!”
He betook himself and his picked men to the battery on the headland, and
there awaited the coming of the enemy, and dawn.
Zolca, aroused from his uneasy sleep by the stir and bustle, sent over
to me to know what it was about. I went to him and told him. Instantly
he insisted on being taken to the beach, so that he might witness the
engagement in which he could take no part.
It would have made him worse to deny him, so a litter was soon arranged
and we carried him to the great Cross of De Gonneville, now once more
erect. Hessel was so confident of his ability to beat off the junk, if
it proved to be one, that he had not manned the other battery, therefore
I was able to stay by Zolca.
It was a calm, balmy night, not a cloud to obscure the stars, not a
sound save the wash of the wavelets on the beach. None could have
thought at that hour of all the tragedies that beach had witnessed
within the short space of a few years. I sat on the sand by the side of
Zolca’s litter, and thought of all the trouble our coming seemed to have
brought down on these simple, friendly people.
Zolca was not asleep, I felt his unwounded arm move, and he put his hand
on my head, which was leaning against the side of the litter, as he
might have done to a child. Some strange sympathy must have told him of
what I was thinking, and he put his hand out as if to tell me I was not
to blame.
Dawn broke at last, red in the tree-tops behind us, and the
quick-growing light soon showed the look-outs on the headland that it
was a junk in sight. It was a dead calm, however, and I guessed that
Hessel was whistling for a wind to bring the enemy within range.
Soon after sunrise a light wind arose, and the junk, hoisting her great
clumsy sail gradually approached the land. So light was the wind, and so
slowly did it come, that it was nearly two hours before the junk was
close to the entrance. Zolca’s excitement was intense and I confess I
shared it. I had every faith in Hessel, and knew that he would choose
the right moment to open fire, otherwise I would have been by his side.
At last it came, a flash of light, and a roar from the headland,
followed by the sputtering volleys of musketry. The junk seemed to reel
under it, and a yell and clamour arose from her that appeared to equal
the report of the cannon. Hessel now fired again, and this time the
clumsy vessel was almost pierced through; her masts fell, and it was
evident she was sinking. The wind had freshened and the tide being on
the flow, she drifted into the bay. Hessel held his fire for the
reason, as he afterwards told me, of not sinking her in the channel.
The Mongols had made no resistance, they were too surprised, nor could
they see their enemies. Deeper and deeper sank the doomed craft, and
when well within the still waters of the bay she suddenly went down.
Then commenced a ruthless massacre; the pirates swimming for their lives
were shot, or if they reached the shore, stabbed. I could not have
stopped it. The Quadrucos had tasted blood too often, lately, and all
the savage in them was aroused.