Harry Milvaine; Or, The Wanderings of a Wayward Boy

by Gordon Stables

spear he would never use again.

  "Reckless of life, he'd desperate fought, And fallen on the plain; And well in death his trusty brand, Firm clenched within his manly hand, Beseemed the monarch slain."

  Book 4--CHAPTER SIX.

  THE MYSTERY EXPLAINED--AFTER THE BATTLE--DEATH OF SOMALI JACK.

  Before we can understand the seeming mystery that clings to the end ofthe last chapter of this tale, we must go a little way back, both asregards time and space.

  All the men Harry had with him in the unfortunate scuttled dhow at thetime she was beached were taken, along with little Raggy, by theso-called brother of Mahmoud into the far interior of Africa, and theresold or bartered away as slaves, and, as we already know, Suliemon madewhat dealers term "a pretty penny" out of the nefarious transaction.

  Escape for the poor fellows so banished seemed impossible, for, althoughthey had had an idea, from the appearance of the sun and stars, thatthey had been all the time journeying steadily west, with either alittle angle of south or of north in it, so cruelly long had the routebeen, so terrible had been their hardships, and so great their dangers,that the idea of returning was considered by them as entirely out of thequestion. Hope did not quite forsake them, however, but they had nomeans of communicating with the outer world--that is, the world beyondthis dark continent. Occasionally they cut letters in the hides of thewild beasts that had been slain, as these skins often found their way tothe markets of Zanzibar and Lamoo.

  Who knows, they told each other, but some one may see these letters, andcome to our assistance!

  But alas! though the letters were seen, and marvelled at and talkedabout, no government, either English or French, deemed it worth while tosend a search and relief expedition.

  Yet those ten poor fellows had wives and little ones, had sisters andbrothers, and fathers and mothers at home, who were, like Harry'sparents, mourning for them as dead.

  The lives of cruelty and indignity which they had led, during all theselong dark dreary months and years, it is not my intention to describe.Suffice it to say that these men were the abject slaves of a brutalking, compelled to eat of the most loathsome garbage and to live in astate of almost nudity. No wonder that already four of their number hadpassed away. Their bodies, shocking to relate, were not even buried,but thrown into the jungle for the wild dogs to gnaw and the ants toeat.

  The others lived, including Nicholls the bo's'n.

  Ah! often and often had they wished to die.

  The only pleasure of their lives, if pleasure it could be called, wasthat at night they were not separated, but kept in one common prison,strictly guarded by armed sentinels.

  Then in the dark they used to talk of the dear old days at sea, and oftheir homes far away in peaceful England.

  More than once during the time of their captivity King Kara-Kara hadbeen on the war-path against the drunken old 'Ngaloo, and the former hadbeen the victor, although he had not followed up his triumph, as he usedto threaten he would do, and annihilate 'Ngaloo and his people.

  The two kings hated each other with a true and everlasting hatred, andthe same may be said of their followers or people.

  A day of rejoicing came at last, though, to the poor white slaves, andthat was when the island scout had bravely forced his way into camp, andgiven them news of their officer Harry.

  Then the king their master got word, somehow or other, of all theprosperity of honest Googagoo, and determined at once that he would makewar upon him and utterly spoil and harry him.

  So he called his men of war together, and made all preparations for thecampaign which we have seen to end so disastrously for this ambitiousmonarch. He reckoned without his host in a manner of speaking--at allevents he did not take King 'Ngaloo into account. He kept the sentinelson the hills and slipped away northwards at the dead of night.

  Now 'Ngaloo had recently had a visit from a band of Somalis under theguidance of an Arab, who had brought him gifts of rum and beads.'Ngaloo gave the beads to his wives to hang around their fat necks,their wrists, arms, and ankles, and his wives were happy in consequence,and even submitted with patience and smiles to be pulled around thepalace tent by the king's horrid tongs. But 'Ngaloo stuck to the rum.

  He never knew quite clearly what he was about as long as his him lasted,but he was not a fool for all that; and when one day a sentinel reportedthat the towns and camp of Kara-Kara were very still and almostdeserted--

  "Oh!" said the king, "old Kara's away after something. Ha! ha! ha! nowis the chance for me! But I wonder where he has gone to."

  These rival kings had one thing in common, a certain superstition notunusual among some African potentates; they thought it unlucky to makewar the one upon the other without some cause. These causes, however,were easily found; if they could not be found, then they could bemanufactured for the occasion.

  'Ngaloo determined to manufacture one now. So he went to bed, not tosleep, for he ordered his prime minister to squat on the floor close tohis dais and hand him rum as he wanted it.

  'Ngaloo preferred drinking like this, it saved him the trouble oftumbling about.

  He lay awake nearly all night thinking and laughing and giggling tohimself. Once he caught his prime minister napping, and gave him aback-hander with his tongs, which effectually kept him awake for sometime to come.

  In the morning 'Ngaloo called three of his people to him, and sent themaway across the hills with a message for King Kara-Kara. It was to thefollowing effect, though I cannot give the exact words:

  "Will King Kara-Kara be good enough to cross the mountains with hisarmy, and visit his dear brother King 'Ngaloo, the mighty monarch of thewhole universal earth, who will have the greatest pleasure in pullingKing Kara-Kara's nose with his gilded tongs, and the nose of every manin his army."

  Off went the three men, and delivered their message, and off went theirheads just three minutes afterwards. For though King Kara-Kara was faraway, he had left a lord-lieutenant behind him.

  It did not matter about the messengers having their heads off, they werefirst on the list, at all events, for the next human sacrifice, and aday or two back or fore could not hurt. But as they did not return, thefact formed a _casus belli_, and gave 'Ngaloo just the opportunity hewished for.

  So he put on his war clothes, hung his tongs in his girdle beside hisdagger, took his spear in his hand, summoned all his army, and marchedover the borders, five thousand strong, with tom-toms beating andchanters braying, and in two days' time had entered the Kara-Karaterritory.

  He captured every one he could, only those that were not worth capturinghe made short work of. Then he burned all his enemy's towns andvillages, and having left a thousand men to lay siege to an inaccessiblemountain, on the top of which, with the white prisoners, thelord-lieutenant had made his camp, 'Ngaloo with the rest of his savagearmy followed his foe up to the lake side, and it was fortunate he hadarrived in time, as we have seen in the last chapter.

  The remnant of Kara-Kara's beaten army hied them back to their owncountry, only to find it laid waste by fire and sword; so they fled awayinto the wilderness, and joined other tribes with whom they had beenfriendly before this.

  Having both fought on one side, and both assisted each other inannihilating the unfortunate Kara-Kara, 'Ngaloo and Googagoo naturallybecame very friendly.

  Both armies bivouacked that night on the battlefield, and the woundedwere attended to. These, however, owing to the brutal customs ofAfrican warfare, were very few, for 'Ngaloo's men in the moonlight rana-muck all across the blood-stained field, and ruthlessly slew all thosewho showed the slightest signs of life.

  Next morning was a sad one for Harry, for his faithful Somali Jack, whohad served him so long and so faithfully, who had nursed him insickness, and more than once saved his life, breathed his last in hisarms shortly after sunrise.

  He had been terribly wounded in the battle, and nothing could save thepoor fellow.

  Quite conscious he was to the last, and cons
cious, too, that his end wasdrawing near, though neither he nor Harry knew it was so _very_ nigh.

  Some duty or other demanded Harry's presence in another part of thefield, but Jack said--

  "Do not go and leave me now, dear master; stay with me a little time."

  "I will stay; I will not go--poor Jack," replied Harry. And he sat downbeside the dying Indian, and took his head in his lap.

  Harry often thought of this last interview with his Somali servantafterwards, and how thankful he always felt, when he did so, that he hadnot gone away and left Jack. Had he done that he would not have seenthe last of him, or heard his dying words.

  These, however, were few, for Jack was weak and his voice feeble, andhis breath coming in gasps. He lay some time quiet, then--

  "I have so much to say," he almost whispered; "but I forget, and I amcold--_so_ cold."

  "I have a brother in Brava."

  Harry thought