Mass' George: A Boy's Adventures in the Old Savannah

by George Manville Fenn

  CHAPTER FORTY SIX.

  Everybody considered it was all over then, as we stood regularly at baybehind our palisades and barricades of boxes, cases, and furniture withwhich the women and children were surrounded, watching the flames of thegreat block-house rising higher and higher in the still night air, in away that to me was awful.

  So there we were waiting for the final onslaught, gloomy, weary, anddispirited. The men were chilled, many of them, with the water, andworn out by their efforts, and as I went round from group to groupsilently, in search of some one I knew to talk to, I could not helpseeing that they were beaten, and thinking that the Indians would havean easy task now when they came.

  "It's very horrible," I thought; and I went over the past, and dweltupon the numbers that we must have killed. I knew that there would beno mercy; that the men would all be butchered, and the women andchildren, if they escaped that fate, would be carried off into ahorrible captivity.

  Pomp seemed to have disappeared, for though I came upon group aftergroup of black faces whose owners sat about in a stolid indifferent way,as if the affair did not concern them, and they were resting untilcalled upon to work once more, I did not see our boy.

  I could not see Colonel Preston, and Morgan had gone away from my sideon being summoned by one of the men.

  There were plenty of our people about, but all the same I seemed to bealone, and I was wandering along in the fitful glare of the fire, when Isaw at last a group of men standing together by a pile of something wetand glistening, over which one man was scattering with his hand somewater from a bucket as if to keep the surface wet, and in this man Irecognised Morgan.

  "What's he doing?" I asked myself; and it was some few moments before Icould grasp the truth, and then in a shrinking manner, with sensationssimilar to those I had felt when I was going into the burningblock-house, I slowly advanced toward the group.

  Sparks were being hurled high in the air at every fall of beam ortimber, and they rushed round and round, as if agitated by a whirlwind,to be carried far away, but every now and then flashes of fire thatescaped the whirl floated softly here and there, making it seem horribleto me as I watched them drop slowly to earth, some to be extinguishedand disappear just as a great pat of snow will melt away when it touchesthe moist ground, while others remained alight and burned for a fewmoments.

  "If one did," I said to myself as I approached timidly, for I knew nowthat I was opposite to the little heap of powder-kegs that had beenbrought out of the magazine with so much risk, and were lying coveredover with canvas and a tarpaulin, whose surface was being kept wet.

  "The powder, Morgan?" I said, as I approached, just as the men weretalking earnestly together, Morgan standing by and holding his emptybucket.

  "Yes, sir; the powder," he replied, turning and giving me a nod beforelooking back at his companions and saying sadly--

  "Then you do mean it, my lads?"

  "I do," said one of the men, sternly; "and I think it's what we ought todo."

  "Without waiting for orders from our officers?"

  "I shouldn't say do it while they can lead us and help us to fight anddrive these demons back. I say when all's over and we've got to thelast. I mean when the Indians have got in and are butchering us."

  "Yes, yes," came in a murmur from one man, "It will be quite right then,and they'll feel it too."

  "Yes," said the first, "it wants doing just as they've crowded into theplace, and the lad among us left living must swear he'll do it."

  "Don't need any swearing," said Morgan, in a low deep voice. "I'mafraid that you're right, my lads, and for one I'll promise to do itwhen it's all over."

  "Do what?" I said in a whisper, though I felt that I did not needtelling.

  Morgan looked round at the others.

  "There's no harm in telling him," he said.

  "Not a bit. Tell him."

  Morgan coughed as if to clear his throat, and he raised the bucket andthrew a few drops from the bottom on the glistening heap.

  "You see, Master George," he said, "we're afraid that we're gettingclose to the time when the Indians will quite get the better of us, andwe shall be beaten."

  "Englishmen are never beaten," I said, looking round proudly.

  "Ah, that's only a bit of brag, Master George," said Morgan, quietly."That's what we all say, and perhaps we never are in spirit, but ourbodies aren't much stronger than other men's bodies, and there are timeswhen the enemy gets too strong for us. I've been beaten many a time,and I've beat many a time. This is one of the times when I've beenbeat."

  "But we are not beaten yet," I said, excitedly. "When the Indians comeand attack we shall drive them off."

  "If we can, my lad--if we can. Eh, my lads?"

  "Yes, yes," came in a loud murmur.

  "Don't you be afraid about that. As long as our officers can lead us weshall fight, and some say we shall do our best when we haven't one leftto lead us. In plain honest English, Master George, we shall fire aslong as we can load; when we can't use our guns we shall use our fists,and when we can't raise an arm we shall kick."

  "Yes, I know, I know," I said, excitedly. "But what you are thinking ofit so dreadful."

  "So's lying down beat out to let savages knock out your brains, my lad;and so we've all made up our minds that when the worst comes to the veryworst, it will be an act of kindness to everybody and a big lesson tothe Indians to let settlers alone, and perhaps be the means of savingthe lives of hundreds of poor creatures in times to come, if one ofus--"

  "Yes, I know," I half groaned--"sets fire to this powder and blowseverything away."

  "That's it, Master George, and the right thing too."

  "Oh!" I cried, with a shudder.

  "Don't take on, my lad," said Morgan, gently. "It's fate, that's whatit is. We shan't do it till the place is full of Indians, and they'vebegun their terrible work; then one touch with a spark and it'll be allover."

  "Morgan!" I cried.

  "Ay, my lad, it seems very horrid, and I don't want to have it to do;but when we're all half dead, and can't lift a hand, it will be a mercyto every one; and I know if your poor father was here and listening towhat we say, he'd think so too."

  "But--but--" I faltered, despairingly, "I don't want to die."

  "More don't I, my lad," he said, taking my hand; and I saw by the lightof the burning building that the tears stood in his eyes. "I'd giveanything to live, and go back yonder and work like a man to puteverything straight again, and see my trees and plants growing morebeautiful every day in God's bright sunshine; but if it aren't to be,Master George, why, it aren't. I haven't been a man who hasn't done hisduty."

  "No, no," I said; "they've all fought bravely."

  "Ay, that they have, and are going to fight bravely to the very end.Why, look at those poor niggers too. See how they've fought, bravelads! No one would have thought they were slaves to see the way they'vegone at it, just as if this was their own place, and they'd never beensold and bought. There, my lad, once more, don't you go thinking we'reall going to turn cowards, because we're not. Our officers have donetheir duty by us, and we've tried to do our duty by them; and if itcomes to the worst, I say what's been proposed is only doing our dutystill; what say you?"

  "Ay, ay," came in a chorus; and I could not say a word. I felt chokedas I looked round at the enclosure, all lit up by the glow, with blackshadows cast here and there by the various piles of cases and the tents,and then I seemed to see beyond the great fence, and the black andpale-faced men, right away through the forest to our own bright home,close to the pleasant river, where all was sunshine, and glorious withbird and flower and tree. It was impossible to believe that I was neverto see it all again, never to wander through the forest, never to rideon the stream and pause to watch the brightly-plumaged birds and theglittering insects or the gorgeously-scaled fish gliding through theclear waters, down where I had so often seen them amongst the roots ofthe overhanging trees.

  It all ca
me back like some bright dream--the creeper-covered house, myfather seated at his window, about which the flowers bloomed, as he satand studied some book, Morgan and Hannibal busy in their long fight withthe weeds, and a magpie-like patch under some tree, where black Pomp layasleep in his white shirt and short drawers, while from the end of thehouse came the busy sounds made by poor Sarah.

  I think it was at that moment most of all that I quite thoroughlyrealised what a delightful home we had built up in the wilderness. Andnow it was a heap of ashes; my father, Hannibal, and poor Sarahseriously hurt; Pomp gone too for aught I could tell; and Morgan heretalking so calmly and coolly of setting alight to the pile ofdestruction lying there by our side.

  Was it all true? I asked myself, and felt ready to rub my eyes and tryto rouse myself from the horrible nightmare dream from which I wassuffering.

  I was awakened sufficiently the next moment by Morgan's words, as hesaid in a quiet, decided manner--

  "Yes, Master George, we've done our duty as far as we can, and there'sonly one more thing left to do--when the time comes, sir; when the timecomes."

  Just then, to my utter astonishment, there was a movement among the men,and one of them came up close to me.

  "You'll shake hands, sir," he said. "I've taken a deal of notice ofyou, different times."

  I held out my hand mechanically, felt it warmly wrung, and then had itseized in turn by the others, while I was struggling to speak words thatwould not come. At last though they burst forth.

  "But the women and children!" I cried, as my heart seemed to standstill.

  "Better than being butchered by those savages," said Morgan, gloomily."I'd sooner see my poor wife die than fall into their hands."

  His words silenced me, for I knew that they could expect no mercy. Thenfeeling utterly exhausted, I was munching a piece of bread, where I saton a rough case, and sipping a little water from time to time, when justas the fire was at its height, with great waves of flame floating gentlyaway from the great pine-wood building and illumining the wide clearingall round, I heard a familiar voice behind me say in his droll, dryfashion--

  "What pity!"

  "Ah, Pomp!" I cried, turning to him; "you there?"

  "Iss, Mass' George. When we go home again? Pomp done like dis place'tall."

  "No, nor nobody else, boy," said Morgan, sadly. "Hark! Hear anything?"

  He seized his gun as he spoke, but it was only a hissing scream made byone of the water-soaked timbers as the steam was forced out.

  "Nobody come. Injum all gone away."

  "How do you know?" I cried, eagerly.

  "Pomp done know. Tink um all gone. No shoot arrow now."

  "Wrong, boy," said Morgan. "They are hatching some fresh scheme, andthey'll be down upon us directly."

  There was a pause.

  "And then it will be all over," muttered Morgan, as he turned towardsPomp, looked at him firmly, and then held out his hand.

  "Come here, boy," he said.

  "Wha' for? Pomp no do nuffum. Can't do nuffum here."

  "Come and shake hands."

  Pomp laughed and held out his hand, which Morgan took.

  "If I don't see you again, boy, good-bye, and I'm sorry I've been sorough to you sometimes."

  "Mass' Morgan go walking out in wood? Take Pomp."

  Morgan heaved a deep sigh. "Ah, you don't bear any malice," he said.

  Pomp shook his head, and looked at me, for it was Greek to him.

  "Not so bad as that," I said. "Come, cheer up."

  "Can't any more, my lad," said Morgan. "No one can't say, look you,that I haven't cheered up through thick and thin. But, look here,Master George, speaking fair now, what is the good of Injuns?"

  "Injum no good," said Pomp, sharply.

  "Right, boy; no good at all. Phew!" he whistled; "how them logs doburn!"

  "Ah! No duck, no fis', no turkey roace on 'tick!" said Pomp,regretfully. "Shoot, shoot, shoot, lot time, an' no shoot nuffum toeat. Pomp dreffle hungly."

  "There's plenty of bread," I said, smiling at the boy's utter unconcernabout our position of peril.

  "Yah, 'tuff! Nas' 'tuff. Pomp too dreffle hungly eat any more bread.Why no go now and kill all Injum? Pomp fine de way."

  The boy looked quite vexed at his proposition being declined, andsquatted down to gaze at the fire, till after a time he lay down to lookat it, and at last Morgan said to me--

  "Don't trouble him much, lad. Fast asleep."

  It was quite true. There lay Pomp enjoying a good rest, while wewatched the progress of the flames, which rose and fell and gleamed fromthe pieces of the watchful men dotted round the great place, then leftthem in shadow, while a terrible silence had now fallen upon the camp.The fierce fire crackled and roared, and the flames fluttered as a greatstorm of sparks kept floating far away, but no one spoke, and it wasonly when an officer went round to the various posts that there seemedto be the slightest motion in the camp.

  "Takes a cleverer man than me to understand Injun," said Morgan at last,just before daybreak, as I returned from the tent where my father wassleeping peacefully, and Hannibal outside wrapped in a blanket quitecalmly taking his rest.

  "What do you mean?" I said, wearily.

  "I mean I can't make out the ways of Injuns. Here have we been watchingall night, expecting to have a big fight by way of finish up, and Pomp'sright after all. They seem to have gone."

  "If I could only think so!" I replied, with a sigh.

  "Well, lad, I think they are," said Morgan. "They might have had it alltheir own way, and beaten us pretty easy a time back, but they've lettheir chance go by; and I suppose they're satisfied with the mischiefthey've done for one night, and have gone back to their camp to sing anddance and brag to one another about what brave fellows they all are."

  It soon proved to be as Morgan had said, for the day broke, and the sunrose soon after, to shine down warm and bright upon as dejected,weary-looking, and besmirched a body of men as could have been seen.For they were all blackened with powder and smoke; some were scorched,and in every face I could read the same misery, dejection, and despair.But the General, Colonel Preston, and several of the leading gentlemensoon sent a different spirit through the camp. A few orders were given,the sentries changed, three parts being withdrawn; the women, who lookedone half-hour haggard, pale, and scared, wore quite a changed aspect, asthey hurriedly prepared food for their defenders; and in a very shorttime cries and shouts from the children helped to make some of us thinkthat matters were not quite so desperate after all.