The Second G.A. Henty

by G. A. Henty

  “Wild beast or no,” Ned said, “he will do for our dinner.”

  So saying, he unslung his bow, and fitted an arrow. There was a sharp twang, and the deer rolled over, struck to the heart. There was no movement in the tree, but Ned placed another arrow in place. Tom had done the same.

  They stood silent for a few minutes, but all was still.

  “Keep your eyes on the tree and advance slowly,” Ned said. “Have your sword ready in case of need. I cannot help thinking there is something there, though what it is I can’t make out.”

  Slowly, and with the greatest caution, they approached the tree. All was perfectly still.

  “No beast big enough to hurt us can be up there,” Ned said at last. “None of the branches are thick enough to hide him.

  “Now for the stag.”

  Ned bent over the carcass of the deer, which lay a few feet only from the tree. Then suddenly there was a rapid movement among the creepers which embraced the trunk, something swept between Ned and Tom, knocking the latter to the ground, while a cry of alarm and astonishment rose from Ned.

  Confused and surprised, Tom sprang to his feet, instinctively drawing his sword as he did so. For a moment he stood, paralyzed with horror. A gigantic snake had wound its coils round Ned’s body. Its head towered above his, while its eyes flashed menacingly, and its tongue vibrated with a hissing sound as it gazed at Tom. Its tail was wound round the trunk of the tree. Ned was powerless, for his arms were pinioned to his side by the coils of the reptile.

  It was but a moment that Tom stood appalled. He knew that, at any instant, by the tightening of its folds the great boa could crush every bone of Ned’s body; while the very closeness of its embrace rendered it impossible for him to strike at it, for fear of injuring its captor. There was not an instant to be lost. Already the coils were tightening, and a hoarse cry broke from Ned.

  With a rapid spring Tom leaped beyond his friend, and with a blow, delivered with all his strength, severed the portion of the tail coiled round the tree from the rest of the body.

  Unknowingly, he had taken the only course to save Ned’s life. Had he, as his first impulse had been, struck at the head as it raised itself above that of Ned, the convulsion of the rest of the body would probably have crushed the life out of him; but by cutting off the tail, he separated the body from the tree which formed the fulcrum upon which it acted. As swiftly as they had enclosed him the coils fell from Ned, a writhing mass upon the ground; and a second blow from Tom’s sword severed the head from the body. Even now, the folds writhed and twisted like an injured worm; but Tom struck, and struck, until the fragments lay, with only a slight quivering motion in them, on the ground.

  Then Tom, throwing down his cutlass, raised Ned; who, upon being released from the embrace of the boa, had fallen senseless. Alarmed as Tom was at his comrade’s insensibility, he yet felt that it was the shock, and the revulsion of feeling which caused it, and not any serious injury which he had received. No bones had been heard to crack and, although the compression had been severe, Tom did not think that any serious injury had been inflicted.

  He dashed some water from the skins over Ned’s face, rubbed his hands, spoke to him in a loud voice, and ere long had the satisfaction of seeing him open his eyes.

  “Thank God!” Tom exclaimed fervently. “There, don’t move, Ned. Take it quietly. It’s all right now. There, drink a little water.”

  He poured a few drops down Ned’s throat, and the latter, whose eyes had before had a dazed and wondering expression, suddenly sat up and strove to draw his sword.

  “Gently, Ned, gently. The snake is dead, chopped up into pieces. It was a near shave, Ned.”

  CHAPTER 14

  On the Pacific Coast

  “A close shave, indeed,” Ned said, raising himself with difficulty from the ground. “Another moment, and I think my ribs would have given in. It seemed as if all the blood in my body had rushed to my head.”

  “Do you feel badly hurt?” Tom asked, anxiously.

  “No,” Ned said, feeling himself all over. “Horribly bruised, but nothing broken. To think of our not seeing that monstrous boa!

  “I don’t think,” he continued, “that I can walk any farther today. I feel shaken all over.”

  “Then we will camp where we are,” Tom said cheerfully. “We have got a stag, and he will last us for some days, if necessary. There is plenty of fruit to be picked in the forest, and on this mountain side we are sure to be able to find water, within a short distance.”

  Lighting a fire, the deer was soon cut up, and the lads prepared to spend a quiet day; which was all the more welcome inasmuch as, for the last three weeks, they had traveled without intermission. The next day Ned declared himself well enough to proceed on his journey; but his friend persuaded him to stop for another day.

  Late in the evening Ned exclaimed, “What is that, Tom, behind that tree?”

  Tom seized his bow, and leaped to his feet.

  “I see nothing,” he said.

  “It was either a native, or a gigantic monkey. I saw him, quite plainly, glide along behind the tree.”

  Tom advanced cautiously, but on reaching the tree he found nothing.

  “You are sure you were not mistaken?” he asked.

  “Quite certain,” Ned said. “We have seen enough of Indians, by this time, to know them. We must be on the lookout, tonight. The natives on this side are not like those beyond the mountains. They have been so horribly ill treated, by the Spaniards, that they must hate any white face; and would kill us without hesitation, if they got a chance. We shall have difficulty with the Spaniards, when we fall into their hands; but they will at least be more reasonable than these savages.”

  All night they kept up their fire, and sat up by turns, on watch. Several times they thought that they heard slight movements, among the fallen leaves and twigs; but these might have been caused by any prowling beast. Once or twice they fancied that they detected forms, moving cautiously just beyond the range of the firelight; but they could not be certain that it was so.

  Just as morning was breaking, Ned sprang to his feet.

  “Wake up, Tom!” he exclaimed; “we are attacked;” and as he spoke, an arrow quivered in the tree just over his head.

  They had already discussed whether it would be better to remain, if attacked, in the light of the fire, or to retreat into the shadow; and concluding that the eyes of the natives would be more accustomed to see in darkness than their own, they had determined to stay by the fire, throwing themselves down on their faces; and to keep the natives at bay beyond the circle of the light of the flames, till daylight. They had, in readiness, heaped a great pile of brushwood; and this they now threw upon the fire, making a huge pyramid of flame, which lit the wood around for a circle of sixty yards. As the light leaped up, Ned discharged an arrow at a native, whom he saw within the circle of light; and a shrill cry proclaimed that it had reached its mark.

  There was silence for a while in the dark forest and, each moment that passed, the daylight became stronger and stronger.

  “In ten minutes we shall be able to move on,” Ned said; “and in the daylight, I think that the longer range of our bows will enable us to keep them off. The question is, how many of them are there?”

  A very short time sufficed to show that the number of the savages was large; for shrill cries were heard, answering each other, in the circle around them; and numbers of black figures could be seen, hanging about the trees in the distance.

  “I don’t like the look of things, Ned,” Tom said. “It is all very well. We may shoot a good many before they reach us, and in the open no doubt we might keep them off. But by taking advantage of the trees, they will be able to get within range of their weapons; and at short distances, they are just as effective as are our bows.”

  As soon as it was broad daylight, the lads started through the forest, keeping up a running fight with the natives.

  “It is clear,” Tom said, “we cannot stan
d this much longer. We must take to a tree.”

  They were on the point of climbing, when Ned exclaimed:

  “Listen! I can hear the sound of bells.”

  Listening intently, they could make out the sound of little bells, such as are carried by horses or mules.

  “It must be a train to one of the mines. If we can reach that, we shall be safe.”

  Laying aside all further thought of fighting, the boys now ran, at headlong pace, in the direction of the sounds. The natives, who were far fleeter of foot, gained fast upon them; and the arrows were flying round them, and several had inflicted slight wounds, when they heard ahead of them the cry of:

  “Soldiers on guard. The natives are at hand. Fire in the bushes.”

  The boys threw themselves upon their faces as, from the thickets ahead, a volley of musketry was heard.

  “Load again,” was the order, in Spanish. “These black rascals must be strong, indeed, to advance to attack us with so much noise.”

  Crawling forward cautiously, Ned exclaimed, in Spanish:

  “Do not fire, senors. We are two Spaniards who have been carried away from the settlements, and have for long been prisoners among the natives.”

  A cry of surprise was heard, and then the Spaniard in command called them to advance, fearlessly. This they did. Fortunately they had, long before, settled upon the story that they would tell, when they arrived among the Spaniards. To have owned themselves Englishmen, and as belonging to the dreaded buccaneers, would have been to ensure their imprisonment, if not execution. The imperfection of Ned’s Spanish, and the fact that Tom was quite ignorant of the language, rendered it difficult for them to pass as Spaniards. But they thought that, by giving out that they had been carried away in childhood—Tom at an earlier age than Ned—their ignorance of the language would be accounted for.

  It had been a struggle, with both of them, to decide upon telling an untruth. This is a point upon which differences of opinion must always arise. Some will assert that under no circumstances can a falsehood be justified. Others will say that to deceive an enemy in war, or to save life, deceit is justifiable, especially when that deceit injures no one. It was only after very great hesitation that the boys had overcome their natural instincts and teaching, and agreed to conceal their nationality under false colors Ned, indeed, held out for a long time; but Tom had cited many examples, from ancient and modern history, showing that people of all nations had, to deceive an enemy, adopted such a course; and that to throw away their lives, rather than tell a falsehood which could hurt no one, would be an act of folly. Both, however, determined that, should it become necessary to keep up their character as Spaniards by pretending to be true Catholics, they would disclose the truth.

  The first sight of the young men struck the captain of the Spanish escort with astonishment. Bronzed to the darkest brown by the sun of the plains and by the hardships they had undergone, dressed in the skins of animals, and carrying weapons altogether uncouth and savage to the Spanish eye, he found it difficult to believe that these figures were those of his countrymen.

  His first question, however, concerned the savages who had, as he supposed, attacked his escort. A few words from Ned, however, explained the circumstances; and that the yells he had heard had been uttered by the Indians pursuing them, and had no reference, whatever, to the convoy. This consisted of some two hundred mules, laden with provisions and implements on its way to the mines. Guarded by a hundred soldiers were a large number of natives; who, fastened together as slaves, were on their way up to work for their cruel taskmasters.

  When the curiosity of the captain concerning the natives was allayed, he asked Ned where he and his comrade had sprung from. Ned assured him that the story was a very long one; and that, at a convenient opportunity, he would enter into all details. In the first place he asked that civilized clothes might be given to them; for, as he said, they looked and felt, at present, rather as wild men of the woods than as subjects of the King of Spain.

  “You speak a very strange Spanish,” the captain said.

  “I only wonder,” Ned replied, “that I speak in Spanish at all. I was but a child, when I was carried away; and since that time I have scarcely spoken a word of my native tongue. When I reached the village to which my captors conveyed me, I found my companion here; who was, as I could see, a Spaniard, but who must have been carried off as an infant, as he even then could speak no Spanish, whatever. He has learned now from me a few words; but beyond that, is wholly ignorant.”

  “This is a strange story, indeed,” the captain said. “Where was it that your parents lived?”

  “I know not the place,” Ned said. “But it was far to the rising sun, across on the other ocean.”

  As it seemed perfectly possible that the boys might have been carried away, as children, from the settlements near Vera Cruz, the captain accepted the story without the slightest doubt, and at once gave a warm welcome to the lads; who had, as he supposed, escaped after so many weary years of captivity.

  “I am going up now,” he said, “to the mines, and there must remain on duty for a fortnight, when I shall return in charge of treasure. It will be dangerous, indeed, for you to attempt to find your way to the coast without escort. Therefore you had better come on with me, and return under my protection to the coast.”

  “We should be glad of a stay with you in the mountains,” Ned said. “We feel so ignorant of everything European that we should be glad to learn, from you, a little of the ways of our countrymen before we venture down among them. What is the nearest town on the coast?”

  “Arica,” the captain said, “is the port from which we have come. It is distant a hundred and thirty miles from here, and we have had ten days’ hard journeying through the forest.”

  For the next fortnight, the lads remained at the mines. These were worked by the Spaniards entirely by slave labor Nominal wages were, indeed, given to the unfortunates who labored there. But they were as much slaves as if they had been sold. The Spaniards, indeed, treated the whole of the natives in the provinces occupied by them as creatures to be used mercilessly for labor, and as having no more feeling than the lower animals. The number of these unfortunates who perished in the mines, from hard work and cruel treatment, is beyond all calculation. But it may be said that, of the enormous treasures drawn by Spain from her South American possessions, during the early days of her occupation, every doubloon was watered with blood.

  The boys, who had for nearly six months lived among the Indians, and had seen their many fine qualities, were horrified at the sights which they witnessed; and, several times, had the greatest difficulty to restrain their feelings of indignation and horror. They agreed, however, that it would be worse than useless to give vent to such opinions. It would only draw upon them the suspicion of the Spaniards, and would set the authorities at the mine and the captain of the escort against them, and might prejudice the first report that would be sent down to Arica, concerning them.

  During the first few days of their stay, the boys acted their parts with much internal amusement. They pretended to be absolutely ignorant of civilized feeding, seized the meat raw and tore it with their fingers, sat upon the ground in preference to chairs, and in every way behaved as persons altogether ignorant of civilization. Gradually, however, they permitted themselves to be taught, and delighted their entertainers by their docility and willingness. The Spaniards were, indeed, somewhat surprised by the whiteness of their skin, where sheltered from the sun; and by the lightness of their hair and eyes. The boys could hear many comments upon them, and wondering remarks why they should be so much fairer than their countrymen in general. As, however, it was clearly useless to ask them, none of the Spaniards thought of doing so.

  The end of the fortnight arrived and, under the charge of the escort, the lads set out, together with twenty mules laden with silver, for the coast. They had no longer any fear of the attacks of the natives, or any trouble connected with their food supply; an ample st
ock of provisions being carried upon spare mules. They themselves were mounted, and greatly enjoyed the journey through the magnificent forests.

  They were, indeed, a little uneasy as to the examination which they were sure to have to undergo at Arica, and which was likely to be very much more severe and searching than that to which the good-natured captain had subjected them. They longed to ask him whether any news had been heard of the arrival of an English squadron upon the western coast. But it was impossible to do this, without giving rise to suspicion; and they had the consolation, at least, of having heard no single word concerning their countrymen uttered in the conversations at the mine. Had Captain Francis Drake and his companions arrived upon the coast, it was almost certain that their presence there would be the all-absorbing topic among the Spanish colonists.

  Upon their arrival at Arica, the boys were conducted at once to the governor—a stern and haughty-looking Spaniard, who received the account given by the captain with an air of incredulity.

  “This is a strange tale, indeed,” he said, “and passes all probability. Why should these children have been kidnapped on the eastern coast, and brought across the continent? It is more likely that they belong to this side. However, they could not be malefactors who have escaped into the forest, for their age forbids any idea of that kind. They must have been stolen. But I do not recall any such event as the carrying off of the sons of Spaniards, here, for many years back.

  “However, this can be inquired into when they learn to speak our language well. In the meantime, they had better be assigned quarters in the barracks. Let them be instructed in military exercises, and in our language.”

  “And,” said an ecclesiastic who was sitting at the table, “in our holy religion; for methinks, stolen away as they were in their youth, they can be no better than pagans.”

  Tom had difficulty in repressing a desire to glance at Ned, as these words were spoken. But the eyes of the governor were fixed so intently upon them, that he feared to exhibit any emotion, whatever. He resolved mentally, however, that his progress in Spanish should be exceedingly small; and that many months should elapse, before he could possibly receive even rudimentary instruction in religious matters.