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Mass' George: A Boy's Adventures in the Old Savannah, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 22 |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. "Oh--ho--ho--ho--ho! What a lubbly bit fun!" cried Pomp, as soon as the danger had passed away. "Why, Pomp!" I cried at last, fiercely, for I was too much astonished to speak at first. But he was off along the bank, to stop opposite the smaller batch of reeds, where he stood with both his fists doubled, stamping his bare feet, and shouting a perfect torrent of abuse at the invisible enemy. I caught a word here and there, words full of threats of what he would do to the "ugly 'gator, nex' time." But I was too much upset to shout till I had scrambled into my clothes, when I went sharply along the edge of the pool to where the boy was still shaking his fists, and abusing the reptile which had nearly scared him to death. But there was another scare ready for Pomp. Indignation was hot within me, and I made my presence known by a smart kick with my bare foot which nearly sent him into the pool again, and a cuff on the side of the head which knocked him back. "Oh--oh--oh! Don't, Mass' George," he bellowed, as he dropped on his knees and held up his hands; "don't flog um, Mass' George. I nebber, nebber do so no more." "You rascal!" I cried, catching him by the ear. "How came you to play me that trick?" "On'y for bit ob fun, Mass' George; on'y for bit ob fun." "You dog!" I cried, shaking him. "On'y lil bit o' fun, Mass' George; got de 'gator's head on to frighten um. Nebber tink no 'gator dah, or not nebber done it." "No, I suppose not," I cried. "How dare you try to frighten me like that!" "Say, Mass' George, you pull dat ear right off." "Serve you right too, sir. You insolent rascal. But I'll tell my father, and you shall be flogged." "Oh no, don't do dat ah, Mass' George. Kick um again and pull um oder ear. Pomp won't holler much. Don't tell de massa." "A blackguardly, cowardly trick with that nasty old alligator's head." "But, Mass' George," cried Pomp, suddenly jumping up, "you no business beat kick a boy." "What, sir!" "Why, if I no do dat, an de ole 'gator get hold ob de head, he get hold ob you, an where you be now?" My hand dropped to my side, and I stared in a puzzled way at Pomp, who began to show his white teeth, as it seemed to me that what he said was true, and that if the reptile had not dashed at the boy, and seized the old head thrown at him, he might have seized me and dragged me down. "Tink I sabe you, Mass' George, and you hab berry narrow scrape; and den you say you tell de massa, and hab me flog." "Yes," I said, half aloud, "he might have seized me." "Oh, he hab you, sure 'nuff, Mass' George, and um be pickin' you bone now down in de mud--iyah--iyah--iyah!" he roared, in a great burst of laughter as he turned round to the water, rested his hands on his knees, and shouted-- "How you like big 'gator head, eh? You find um berry hard? Hope you like um, sah." He faced round to me again, showing his teeth, and with his eyes twinkling with merriment. "Don't tell a massa," he said, pleadingly. I was conquered, for it was clear enough to me now that the boy's prank had in all probability saved my life. But I still hesitated as I seized him by both ears now, and gently swayed his head to and fro. "Dat's right, Mass' George, pull um hard. I no mine a bit." "You rascal!" I cried; "will you promise never to do it again?" "Can't do it again, Mass' George; ugly great 'gator got de head." "But will you play me such a trick again?" "Dunno, Mass' George. You pull hard bofe ears togedder, and kick um." "Where are your clothes?" I said, quite disarmed now. "In de tree, Mass' George. Hab noder pull." "No," I said. "Put on your clothes." Pomp threw himself on the ground and began to howl. "What's that for, sir?" "You go tell de capen, and hab poor nigger flog. Ah, Mass' George, you bery cruel young massa." "Get up, Pomp. I'm not going to tell father, but you shouldn't have played me such a trick." The boy seemed as if made of india-rubber, for he sprang up, ducked down, stood on his head, and then went over and over head over heels three or four times before leaping up with a loud shout. "Oh, Mass' George, pull um out; got big forn in um back." It was quite true, and after I had relieved him of the spine, he ran to the biggest tree near, climbed up into the fork, and descended directly with his clothes, into which he slipped--not a long job, for he was by this time dry, and his garments consisted only of a short-sleeved shirt and a pair of cotton drawers, which came down to mid thigh. "Now, look here, Mass' George," he cried, excitedly; "you'n me got to kill dat 'gator." "Yes," I said, "I must lie in wait and shoot him." "I tink so. What did he come in young mass' bath for? I go fetch um gun now." "No, no," I said. "It would be no use." "No," said Pomp, thoughtfully, and then showing his teeth; "too busy fryin' um dinner. Oh, Mass' George, what a bit ob fun!" Pompey threw himself down, and laughed till the tears rolled down his cheeks. "I ten times--hund times more frightum than you, Mass' George. I tought um catch dis nigger for sartum, an' I felt so sorry for you, Mass' George, dat I holler out loud." "Sorry for me?" "Yes, sah. What you do widout Pomp?" "Come along," I said, half surlily, half amused at the easy-going, light-hearted way in which the boy could forget the horrible peril in which he had placed himself. "You berry sorry too, Mass' George.--I know." "Know what?" "How catch um 'gator?" "How?" "Pompey know. Show um a morrow. Good-bye, sah. Bring you 'noder dinner morrow morning." He made a mock salutation in the direction he believed the reptile to have taken, and then together we began to thread our way through the trees, back toward the clearing, and then after another cautious look round for snakes made for the garden. But before we were within a hundred yards, Pomp stopped. "Ole massa in big garden, Mass' George?" "I don't know," I said. "He was going to be back to dinner." "I go round de oder way. Mass' say I chop wood, and I was going to chop wood till I hear you say Morgan you go for walk, and I know you go for 'wim." "Well?" "Pomp very hurt upon Mass' George." "Oh, were you?" I said. "Mass' George say cruel fing to Pomp, so um go an' fess de ole 'gator head, and undress umself, an' get in de water firs, an' fright um." "Ah, well, you'll be flogged one of these days, Master Pomp, without my telling tales of you." "I 'pose I will," he said, thoughtfully. "No like for Mass' George tell, dough." "Why not?" "Cos dat hurt Pomp more dan de floggum." "Nonsense!" "Eh? Dat nonsense, Mass' George? I don't know. If Mass' Morgan tell and get Pomp flog, Pomp holler, 'Oh don't, oh don't!' an' fro himself on de ground, an' squiggle an' kick. But soon as done flog um, Pomp rub um back up gen tree, an' nebber mine a bit." "I suppose so," I said. "But if Mass' George tell an' get Pomp flog, dunno why, but no use rub back gen de tree. Hurt Pomp all de same." So Pomp ran off to get round to the wood-shed, where I heard him as I reached the house chopping away as hard as he could, and making the wood fly; and I need hardly say I did not tell any tales about the boy's trick, though I thought about it a great deal. My ideas of punishment were not of the flogging kind, but connected with some way of giving Master Pomp tit for tat by means of a scare; but my invention was rather at fault, and idea after idea was dismissed as soon as formed. They were not pleasant ideas, some of them, and they were all wanting in the element I wished to impart. One of Sarah's wild-plum jam puffs, with a dose of medicine concealed therein, was dismissed at once. So was a snake in his bed, because there were objections to the trick. In all probability the snake would not stop there; and if it did, as it must necessarily be a harmless one, it would not frighten Pomp a bit, and might suggest the idea of playing a similar trick on me. I could push him into the water first time we were on the river-bank, but he would only laugh and swim out. I might lasso him suddenly some day, and tie him up to a tree, and leave him in the forest without anything to eat for a few hours; but I knew that I couldn't find the heart to torture the poor fellow like that; and if I could, no knots that I contrived would ever hold him very long. "Bah! It's waste of time!" I said; and I gave it up, not knowing that I should soon have something far more serious to think about. For just as I was deep in my cogitations I heard a step, and my father came into sight, looking very hot and tired. That evening, as we sat together by the light of a candle, with the forest insects humming round, he said suddenly-- "I'm afraid our troubles with the Spaniards are not over, George. These people are threatening again." "But that does not matter, does it, father?" "I don't know yet, my boy. There is a great deal of braggadocio and pride in your Spanish don, and they have plenty of enterprise and fight in them sometimes, as we know by what they have done." "But will they come and fight against us, father?" I said, eagerly. "I don't know that they will come and fight against _us_," he replied, dryly. I felt the blood come up into my temples, and I spoke quickly-- "I know I'm only a boy, father, and not big enough to fight for you, or by your side like a soldier, but I could load." He smiled and leaned toward me, and patted my shoulder. "I beg your pardon, George," he said, kindly. "I ought not to have spoken as I did. You are only a boy, and while you are a boy I pray heaven that you may enjoy a boy's happy life, and that we may be free from all the troubles that are threatening. I am a soldier, and I have fought in the service of my country." "Yes," I said, proudly, "I know. Morgan has often told me." "Morgan ought to hold his tongue, and not put vain notions into your head." "But he said it was glorious, father." He looked at me sadly, and sighed. "I am a soldier, George," he said; "but I am afraid that I have very little belief in what people call glory. In too many cases the brilliancy of the glory is dulled with blood and horror too terrible to be spoken of without a shudder. It is glorious to fight in defence of your country, its women and children, or to fight here for our homes; and while I have strength to lift a sword, or voice and knowledge to lead and direct others in such a cause, I will, if it is necessary, fight again. But after what I have been through and seen, I am ready to go down on my knees and pray the God of love and peace and mercy that neither I nor you may ever see sword flashed or shot fired in anger while we live." He was silent for a few moments, and then he said, cheerfully-- "Come, what did the Latin writer say about a man defending his own country?" "'_Dulce et decorum est_--'" I said, promptly, and then stopped short. "I forget the rest, father." He laughed. "Our life out here, as the pioneers of a new civilisation, is not conducive to the study of the classics, my boy. It's a rough school, where we have to take care to avoid fevers, and meet Indians, and are threatened with Spanish aggression, and have to fight for our lives against a flood. But there, we have drifted into a very serious talk." "But I like it, father," I said eagerly, "though I am ashamed to have forgotten my Latin." "Ah, well, you will look that passage up in your Horace, and I venture to say that it will be so impressed now upon your memory that it will never slip away. There, I mentioned the flood. Flood suggests boat. You said you thought the boat might have been carried up the stream into the woods somewhere." "Yes," I said; "the water did come out of the big river and rush up ours." "It is quite probable. You may find it as you say you did the hut. When are you going to search for it?" "When you give me leave." "Go when you like. I did think I should have to go again to-morrow to the settlement to confer with the General and the others, but messages have again been sent back to the Spanish Governor of Florida, and it must be many days, perhaps weeks, before we hear again, so you can go to-morrow if you will." I leaped up from my seat excitedly. "Where are you going now?" "To tell Pomp to call me, and ask Sarah to prepare a basket of something to eat." He nodded and took up a book, while after telling our housekeeper of my wants, I ran across the clearing to the edge of the forest to call the boy to get ready. As I drew near I found Hannibal seated on a stump left by the cutting down of one of the trees to make room for the new hut, with his chin resting in his hands. "Hallo, Han," I said; "anything the matter?" "No, Mass' George," he said. "I only look up at de 'tars and tink." "What about?" "I wonder wedder dey de 'tars I see in my own country." "Yes," I said; "I do know that. Do you ever want to go back again?" "Back again, sah?" "Yes--to your own country." He shook his head. "No, Mass' George. Too much fight--too much kill-- too much sell for slave; nebber go back again." "Then you are happy here?" "Yes, sah. Happy here wif Mass' George and de capen. Can't talk. Understand?" "Oh, yes," I said; "I understand. Where's Pomp?" "Sleep. Dah! I call um." "No, no; let me," I said, laughing. I went into the hut, and there on the blanket in a corner, with his mouth wide open, lay the boy fast asleep. It was so dark inside that I should not have been able to make him out but for the gleam of light from the window, which made his teeth just visible. I stood looking down at him and listening to his breathing for a few moments, before slipping out of the hut, taking my knife from my pocket, and cutting a long twig which I stripped, all but a few leaves at the end. As I came back, Hannibal rose. "Don't whip, Mass' George," he said in a pleading whisper, as he laid his hand upon my arm. "I was not going to," I said, laughing, "only to tickle him." I saw the big African's teeth gleam, and I stole back into the hut on tip-toe, thinking the while how marvellous it was that a great fellow like the black, who could have almost crushed me with one hand, should be so patiently submissive, and give up to me as he did. But that thought passed away as I stood over Pomp and gently tickled him on one cheek. He moved restlessly, and I tickled the other with the leaves. He turned back again, and the end of the twig began to play about his neck. There was a quick rustle, one hand struck at the twig and Pomp rolled over upon his face. This gave me a good opportunity to titillate both sides of his neck, and he sprang round again. "Bodder!" I heard him mutter; but I persevered, making the twig play well about him. "Bodder de fly!" he cried, viciously; but the twig tickled away, and Pomp's eyes were so tightly closed that he contented himself with twisting and rubbing himself. "Wait I get up, I mash all de ole fly eberywhere," he muttered. Tickle--tickle--tickle. _Slip slap_. Pomp's hands delivered a couple of blows on his bare skin. Tickle--tickle--tickle. "You no like me come mash you, eh?" Tickle--tickle--tickle. "Yah! You great ugly skeeter, you leave lil nigger go sleep." "_Buzz_--_buzz_--_hum_." Tickle--tickle--tickle. I made as good an imitation as I could of a gnat's hum, and kept up the tickling till he made two or three vicious lounges out at where I stood in the darkness, and this time he got hold of the twig. "Eh?" he exclaimed. "Dat not skeeter fly. Dat you, fader? You let lil nigger go sleep. Keep a 'tick 'till." "Eh? Who dat? Ah, yah! It you, Mass' George. I know all de time." "No, you didn't, old sleepy head." "Eh? Well, what head for at night but sleep um? You want Pomp go after 'coon?" "No; look here, Pomp; we're to go and try to find the boat in the morning. Come and call me as soon as it's day." "Eh? Why not go now, Mass' George?" "No, no; I want to go and have a good sleep first. Mind, as soon as it's light; I'll take the gun." "I call you, Mass' George, widout come an' ticklum wif lil 'tick, ha-- ha--ha! I know." "Good-night." "Good-night, Mass' George; I come and climb up your window; and you look out." "I will," I said to myself as I went away, said good-night to Hannibal, and hurried back to bed, but not till I had carefully fastened my window ajar, so that Pomp could not get it open in the morning. And there I was, too much excited by the ideas of the trip to get to sleep. For as I lay there I could picture the little river winding in and out among the great trees of the primeval forest, and see it here black as night flowing sluggishly beneath the drooping moss-hung trees, there dancing in the sunshine that rained down from above, and then on and on in amongst the mysterious shades where in all probability the foot of man had never trod. "Oh," I said to myself at last, as I lay listening to the monotonous piping insect hum, and the bellowings and croakings from the wood, "how hot it is! I do wish it was day." But it seemed that many hours must elapse before day could come, and in a curious dreamy way I was wandering on and on through the tangled wood close to the river-bank, when Pomp said in a whisper-- "Hi! Mass' George, you go 'top seep all day?" I started up to find that I had slept for hours, and light in the shape of the morning was at the window, in company with darkness in the form of Pomp's black face. _ |
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