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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 39 |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTY NINE. My eyes were for ever running from tree to bush, and plunged into the windings of the path, as Hannibal and Morgan seized the oars, sat down, and, after the head had been pushed off into the current, began to pull a heavy stroke that sent the boat rapidly along and out into the middle of the stream. For after my old experiences of starting from that landing-place, in addition to that which I had gone through that day, the nervous tension was so great that my imagination ran riot at first, and I saw dark faces peering out from among the canes, bronzed arms holding bows, while others drew arrows to the heads, and the loud yells of the Indians seemed to ring through my dizzy brain. But as, after we had reached the farther side of the stream, the boat surged on through the water with no sound really heard but the splash of the oars, I began to grow more calm, the more so that we passed clump after clump, and patch after patch of undergrowth, from which arrows came whizzing last time, to strike into the sides of the boat, or fix themselves in the box with a hollow sounding rap. As soon as I could collect myself a little, I plunged my hands over the side and bathed my face, and drank. Then hurriedly turning to poor Pomp, I placed his head more easily, Hannibal's great dark eyes watching me the while, and then took the tin baler, filled it with the cold, clear water, and began to bathe the boy's temples, pausing again and again to trickle water between his closely-set teeth. But for a long time he gave no sign of recovery, but lay back breathing faintly, and with his eyes tightly closed. "Coming to, Master George?" said Morgan. "No," I had to reply again and again. And each time at my response I heard the boy's father utter a sigh. But Hannibal did not cease to row a steady stroke, though I saw his forehead wrinkle up, and there was a wild look of misery in his eyes. We had passed round the wooded point in safety, and soon after were well out of our stream and in the big river, when, seeing that we were beyond the reach of arrows, the rowing was slackened a little, just as, to the great delight of all, Pomp showed signs of recovery. I was bending over him after dipping the tin full of water once more, and began to trickle a little water on his forehead, when _flip_, the tin went flying, the water sparkling in the sun, and a quantity of it sprinkling Hannibal where he sat, while it was all so sudden that I burst out laughing, for Pomp's familiar voice rang out sharply and angrily-- "Don't do dat." Then memory must have come back like a flash, for the boy's hands seized me as I bent over and touched him, his eyes opened and glared at me, he showed his teeth viciously, and then let his hands drop, and he sank back. "Mass' George!" he said, feebly. "Ah, Pomp know all de time. Mass' George play trick. Pash water, and--" Then with a sudden fierce change of manner--"Run, Mass' George--run--quick--what gone long dem Injum?" He looked round wildly. "They are gone, Pomp," I said; and I shivered a little as I spoke. "We're quite safe now. Drink a little water." I raised his head, and held the refilled water-can to his lips, when he drank with avidity. "Are you better?" "Eh? Better, Mass' George? Injum cotch Pomp, and 'tuff mouf full. Couldn't holler. Tie um all up tightum. No move, no breve, no do nuffum." "Yes; don't talk now. We found you. No; lie still. What do you want?" "Go kill all de Injum." "Sit still," I said, with another little shiver, as I recalled the scene of the struggle. "No; Pomp won't sit 'till." He rose to a sitting position and began rubbing his wrists, staring at his father the while, as the latter rowed steadily on with his arms bandaged and showing stains. "What matter wif yo' arm?" Hannibal said something to the boy in his own tongue, and Pomp leaned forward, still rubbing his numbed wrists softly, and evidently listening intently till his father had done, when he clapped his hands together and uttered a harsh laugh. "Ah," he cried; "dat a way. Dey no come try kill Mass' George 'gain." Then reverting to his own injuries, he felt all his teeth gently with thumb and finger, as if to try whether they were loose. "'Tick 'tuff, great big dirty bit blank in Pomp mouf," he said, angrily. "No couldn't breve." He gave himself another rub or two, worked his head about, rubbed behind his back, and opened and shut his jaws softly. Then giving himself a final shake, he exclaimed-- "Pomp quite well 'gain." "Want something to eat?" I said, smiling. "Yes, Mass' George. Pomp dreffle hungly now." "Oh well, we'll soon settle that," I said; and I looked round for the food, much of which was then lying under the big cypress, close to the heap of ashes I had once called home. "I'm afraid there is nothing left, Pomp," I said, apologetically. "Eh?" "I'm afraid there is nothing to give you," I said. "What? No go eat all dat and hab not bit for poor Pomp! Oh!" He swung himself round, threw himself down on his face, and groaned. Hannibal said a few words in a deep stern voice, and the boy moaned out-- "But poor Pomp so dreffle hungly." There was something so childishly absurd in his anger that I could not help laughing, the effect being that in his excitable state he turned upon me with a fierce gesture that reminded me of the day he was landed from the slaver. But at that moment Hannibal's deep firm voice rose in so stern a tone that the boy shrank down again in the boat. Hannibal spoke again as he continued rowing, and as I listened to the curious sweet-sounding barbarous tongue, I felt as if I would have given anything to have been able to understand what was said. But though I did not comprehend the words, I did their sense, for Pomp came crawling up closer to me like a beaten dog, and held up one hand deprecatingly. "Pomp dreffle sorry," he said. "Don't Mass' George flog lil nigger for get in pashum. Pomp so dreffle hungly." "Oh, I'm not cross," I said, good-temperedly. "And Mass' George not flog poor lil nigger?" "I will if you ever say so again," I cried. "Oh!" "When were you ever flogged? Did I ever flog you?" "No, Mass' George." "Then why did you say that?" "Mass' George often look going flog lil nigger." "Then don't say it again, and you shall soon have something to eat. We are close to the wharf." For there in full view was the flag flying on its pine-tree staff, and the boats lay off anchored in the river. But the place looked singularly deserted, and it seemed very strange for there to be no one visible idling about, boating, or at work in the plantations; not a single person being in sight till we got some distance farther on, and the block-house and palisade seemed to come out from behind the trees, when the sentries could be plainly seen, and the group by the open gates, while the interior of the enclosure looked like a busy camp, so crowded was it with people and their household goods. We left the two blacks to moor the boat, after telling Pomp to make haste up and have some dinner, and Morgan and I hurried up to my father's quarters. He was not there, and we learned that he was with the General. Under the circumstances we did not hesitate to go to the latter's tent, where we found that a little council was being held, and that Colonel Preston and the principal part of the other gentlemen of the expedition were there. "Well, sir," I heard Colonel Preston say, "my opinion is that further inaction would be cowardly." "I am sorry to go against my friend, Colonel Preston," said my father, his voice coming clearly to me from under the looped-up sail which made the tent, "but I feel convinced that in spite of the lesson they have received, the Indians will attack again, and it would be extremely unwise to leave our strong quarters and go to our homes until we are satisfied that we can be safe." "I must say, gentlemen," said the General, gravely, "that in spite of the adverse opinions I have heard--some of which sounded to me rather rash--I agree with Captain Bruton." There was a loud murmur here. "We have our women and children to think of." "Of course, sir," said Colonel Preston; "and I think of mine as seriously as any man here. But our close confinement is getting painful for them all. We shall be having another enemy in our midst--fever--if we do not mind. Now with all respect for Captain Bruton, I must say he is carrying caution too far. At the slightest alarm we can again take refuge in the fort." There was a chorus of approval here. "Our scouts have been out in every direction, and I am convinced that there has not been for many days past an Indian within a hundred miles." "You are wrong, sir," I said excitedly, as I stepped forward with Morgan close behind me; and at the sight of us both, and what I had not thought of till then, our blood-stained garments, there was a loud buzz of excitement. "What? Speak out. Are you wounded, boy?" cried my father, excitedly. "No, father; I have escaped." "But the Indians; you have seen them?" "Yes," I said; and in the midst of a breathless silence, Morgan and I told of our terrible adventures that day. _ |
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