Wild Life in the Land of the Giants: A Tale of Two Brothers
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mouse: more'll come to help them, and the bush 'll be theircover. We'll fire it. The wind is favourable."
"It really is a pity," I remarked, half seriously, "to spoil thisscenery."
"Come," was all my companion added.
So well and willingly did we both work, that in less that half an hourwe had fired the forest in five different places. The amount ofunderwood and of fallen decayed trees was very great, so that the veryearth itself would undoubtedly smoulder and burn for days, thusaffording us protection from the savages.
I have seen many a conflagration in my time, but none, I think, so awfulas that.
So closely did the fire rage around us at one time and so great was theheat, that we were considering whether we should not launch our boat andput out to sea. From the high cliff above us burning branches ever cametoppling down, but these were easily removed.
Then the fire receded, and attacked the glen above and around the bay,the crackling and roaring of the flames became indescribable; tongues offire seeming also to be carried away with the clouds of rolling smoke,as if even that itself were ablaze. Ritchie and I both stood appalledto behold the vastness of the ruin our work had effected.
Long after the flames had left them, and gone over the hill and high upthe valley towards the snow-line, the sturdy arms of the beech-treesstretched out red against a background of black, and every now and thena limb would fall with a loud report, sending up volumes of ashes,smoke, and sparks.
Whether or not on the first outbreak of the fire, the savages had lefttheir fearful orgies and made a rush to the spot where they had lefttheir canoes can never be known. It was evident enough by next morning,nevertheless, that they had found out we were in the bay, and hadmanaged even that night to communicate by signal fires to theircompanions on other shores and on islands, that white men were about;for as early as dawn canoes were seen off the coast--more and more came,till there was quite a swarm.
We were besieged. The wind might change if it liked, or remain where itwas, it could make no difference to us now. To have ventured to run outagainst such odds would have been to throw our lives recklessly away.But our position was good.
As we expected, the decayed mould of which, the bottom of the glen andhills was composed--centuries old, perhaps--kept on smouldering, andwould do so for weeks. Then the bay was in our front and to our rightthe open sea.
No, we were safe for a time. But how long would our provisions last?
We made a careful survey, and found that with great economy we hadenough for a week or even longer.
When we first appeared in the open, the yelling and menacing of thesavages in their canoes was dreadful to hear and behold. For a timeRitchie thought they would cast prudence to the winds and attempt toforce a landing.
Two boats did come near enough to fire arrows at us, but they dearlypaid for their rashness, and three at least of the Indians would neverfire an arrow more.
Long before sundown the enemy had drawn off, and there was not a canoeto be seen anywhere.
"Now would be a chance," said Jill, "if the wind would only change."
Ritchie looked at him and smiled.
"My dear lad," he said, "we wouldn't be two hundred yards beyond the barbefore they would be on us. We wouldn't be able to get back, and we'dnever get far on in this world. No, that's only a trick, and a verytransparent one; just the same as pussy plays with a mouse. But I'm tooold for 'em. Drat 'em! Oh, I do love 'em, don't I just?"
He did not look as if he did.
Day after day--two, three, five, went hopelessly by. The weather keptfine, and the wind was now favourable for a sortie if we were at lengthcompelled to run the gauntlet.
We had hoisted a signal on the cliff top in the hopes that passing shipsmight see it and perhaps send to our assistance. But the ships we sawwere a long way off, and noticed not our signal, for we were somedistance out of the usual track of vessels.
On the fifth day Jill and I went up stream some little distance throughthe burnt forest, and Ossian, the dog, found near the bank a guanacohalf-roasted. This was indeed a blessing, and we dined more heartilythat evening than we had done for a week. We tried fishing, hopingthereby to add to our larder, but were only indifferently successful.Having neither lines nor bait, we were reduced to the plan called"guddling" by Scottish schoolboys, where you wade and catch the troutwith your hands.
Affairs grew desperate on the seventh day, not so much for want of foodas from the fact that the ground had ceased to burn, and cooledsufficiently to permit one to walk over the ashes.
A combined attack by land and sea was therefore hourly expected by us,all the more so in that the canoes seemed more active than usual,flitting about hither and thither, but apparently paying no heed to us.
"They're too silent to please me," said Ritchie; "they'll be on usto-night as sure as shot."
On the same afternoon far away out in the Reach we noticed a noblesteamer.
Jill and I stood looking at her until she had gone down out of sight onthe horizon. We could easily fancy ourselves on board of her. We couldsee in imagination the orderly, clean white decks, the burnished brassand wood, the sailors and officers in their smart uniforms, the chairson deck where lounged the passengers reading, talking, and quietlynapping, the officer on the bridge and the sturdy seaman at the wheel.It was so sad; and we waiting--to sell our lives as dearly as possible.That is the last consolation of the brave. And Jill and I had promisedourselves so much, at least.
Jill put such a strange question to Ritchie this afternoon, but I knewwhat the poor lad was thinking about.
"Ritchie," he said, "do these horrid Indians torture their prisoners ifthey take any alive?"
"I've never heard they did," was the quiet reply. "And indeed I don'tthink they have the sense--drat 'em."
The time, we thought, wore all too quickly to a close, and almost assoon as the sun went down in the west, up rose the full moon in theeast, and then everything--if not as bright as day--was light enough atall events for the work so soon to commence.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
FIGHTING IN TERRIBLE EARNEST--OUR LAST SORTIE--BACK TO BACK IN CORNISHFASHION.
Long before the sun had set, we had strengthened our bulwarks, and putour little citadel into as good a state of defence as possible, with thematerials at our command.
Knowing that sooner or later an attack would come, unless we couldcommunicate with some passing ship, Ritchie had been busy for days, andour fortifications now consisted of an outer and an inner rampart oftrees. But neither were of great extent, there being but eight of usaltogether to defend them; unless, indeed, we counted the dogs, and theywere hardly dogs of war. Ossian, however, was an immensely powerfulanimal, with the strength almost of a young mastiff, and all the agilityof the English greyhound. Bruce, on the other hand, made up in sagacityand courage what he lacked in brute force.
Jill had become inordinately fond of the animals; I would not thereforehave had a hair of their honest heads touched in anger for all theworld. It was evident to me, nevertheless, that as soon as the _melee_commenced they would join in, unless prevented, and get speared beyond adoubt. I therefore had one of the men to make them secure to the boatearly in the evening.
Behind that boat our last stand was to be made, if the worst should cometo the worst. It was therefore drawn up opposite to and guarding theentrance to the cave.
We had plenty of ammunition, rifles, revolvers, and boarding pikes, partof a cargo which, as I hinted before, we were taking out to Honolulu.
Short though the time we had been thus closely thrown together, I thinkwe--the men and Jill and I--loved each other like a band of brothers.There is nothing like danger for cementing the ties of social equality.Then, we all looked up to Ritchie as to a father almost. As to ourcaptain, at all events, for that he was in reality if not by actualrating.
He was a little, active, and very athletic man, and with a trusty weaponin his hand, I never doubted that he would prove a ter
rible enemy amongeven a score of these not over-wholesome Fuegians, or Firelanders, asthey are often called. Not but what these savages are hardy enough.Passing ships can scarcely judge of the whole race from the miserableand often puny creatures that are sent out to beg and sell curiosities.No, if it be any credit to him, I will admit that the Fuegian Indian isas fierce and warlike in his own way as any savage ever I met with. Hecan be either a lamb or a wild beast, as it suits his purpose. He hasbut one aim or object in the world, and but one motto: "Kill and eat."Nor is he a whit particular what he does kill and eat. Is there nothinggood to be said for these Indians? Yes, they are fond of theiroffspring and careful of their comforts, until the children can run.After that they must look out for themselves, and pick up a dead mouseor a dead bird, wherever they can find it, till they learn to use theirbows and arrows. And a Fuegian boy is quite a little warrior by thetime he has