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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 49 |
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_ CHAPTER FORTY NINE. "It was a mistake--a mistake," said my father, excitedly; "but I might have made it if I had been in the hurry and excitement there. Resting here I had plenty of time to think." At that moment the firing began to be fiercer, and my father groaned aloud. "Oh, it is pitiable!" he said, "obliged to lie by here, and not able to help. Here, George, go to the front; don't get into danger. Keep well under cover. I want you to take pity on me, my boy. Do you hear?" "Yes, father; but I don't understand." "Can't you see my position? I am helpless, and my friends and companions are fighting for our lives. I want you to keep running to and fro so as to let me know what is going on, and--mind this--keep nothing back." "Nothing, father?" I said. "Nothing." I hesitated a few moments, and then with the reality of the horror impressed more and more by the shouting, yelling, and rapid firing going on, I told him about Morgan and the other men, even to finding the opened keg and loose powder. "Great heavens!" he muttered as I finished; and I looked at him to hear what more he would say, but he remained silent. "Shall I send Morgan to you, father?" I said. He remained silent for a few moments, and then said softly-- "No." There was another pause, during which the firing grew more fierce. "George." "Yes, father." "Go to and fro, as I told you, and keep me well informed till you think matters are growing desperate. Then seize your chance, run down to the water's edge, swim to one of the boats, and try and escape." "Without you, father?" He caught my hand. "You could not escape with me, my boy," he said. "There, do as I command. I can give you no farther advice, only use your own judgment as to where you will go." "But, father--" "Silence! Is Hannibal there?" he said, raising his voice. "Yes, massa." "Here, my man," continued my father, as the great black came to him. "You will try and serve me, will you not?" "Massa want Han do somefin?" "Yes. There is great danger from the Indians. I want you to stay with and help my son; when the time comes, you will swim with him to a boat, and try and get away." "And carry massa down to the boat?" "No. Save my son. Now go with him at once." His words were so imperative that we both left him, and I went back toward where the fighting was going on, with Han following me like a great black shadow, till, all at once, he touched me on the arm. "Yes," I said. "Mass' George won't go 'way an' leave his fader?" "No," I replied, fiercely. "We must get him away too, Han, and Pomp." "Suah, suah," said the great fellow, quietly. "Could carry de capen down to de boat. Find Pomp and make him swim out for boat all ready." "Yes," I cried, eagerly, "we must save them both." The next minute we were close to where our men fought bravely, driving back the Indians, who were close up now, avoiding the firing by crawling right in, and then leaping up suddenly out of the darkness to seize the barrels of the men's pieces, and strike at them with their tomahawks. But they were always beaten back, and twice over I was able to go and tell my father of the success on our side, Hannibal following close behind me; but these checks were only temporary. The Indians literally swarmed about the frail stronghold, and as fast as they were driven back in one place, they seemed to run along the sides of our defences and begin a fresh attack somewhere else, while our men's firing, being necessarily very ineffective in the darkness, began to lose its effect; the savages, finding how few of them dropped from the discharges, beginning to look upon the guns with contempt. Their attacks grew so bold at last, that twice over, as I saw dimly one of our poor fellows go down, I felt that all was over, and that the time had come for me to go and try whether I could get my father away before the last terrible catastrophe, though how it was to be contrived, with the place surrounded as it was by Indians, I could not tell. Can you think out what my position was, with all this firing and desperate fighting going on, our men striking desperately at the Indians to keep them out as they swarmed and leaped up at us; and all the time there were the women, children, and wounded huddled up together in the inner shelter formed of barrels, boxes, and half-burned planks? It was horrible. Minute after minute crept by, and I began to blame myself for not going. Then a lull would make me determine to wait a little longer, just perhaps as some louder burst of firing made me believe that it was the first keg of powder gone, till a round of cheering told me that it was not, and I was able to go and report that our men were still holding their own. I was returning from one of these visits to my father, picking my way in the darkness over broken guns snapped off at the stock through being used as clubs, and in and out among groaning men over whom the doctor was busy, when all seemed to me to be unusually silent, and then I found that I was able to see a little more as I got right forward to where Colonel Preston was making his men close up together, and handing fresh ammunition. It was rapidly growing lighter, and I saw dimly enough at a short distance, just behind where the block-house stood, the misty-looking figures of a large body of Indians. "Look, quick!" I panted. "Ah!" exclaimed the colonel. "Good! You can see now, my men. Hold your fire till they are close in, and then let them have a volley." A low murmur ran along the line of men, and a feeling of elation thrilled me, but only for a deathly cold chill to run through every vein. For this was evidently such a desperate season as Morgan or his confederates might choose. I could not stir for the moment. Then, as I mastered the horrible feeling of inaction, I drew back and made my way through the confusion within our defences to where I could be opposite to the covered-in kegs, which lay not twenty yards away untouched. The light increased rapidly as it does down south, and I caught sight of a dark figure crawling half-way between our rough works and the tarpaulin. One moment I thought it was a dead or wounded man; the next I recognised Morgan by the back of his head, and a cry arose to my lips, but it was drowned by a deafening volley followed by a cheer. I glanced to my left, and saw the body of fully a couple of hundred Indians checked and wavering, when a second volley was fired and they fled. The smoke hid the rest from my eyes, and when it rose, Morgan was standing close beside me watching the Indians, who had all crowded through the palisade where a great piece was torn down, dragging with them their dead and wounded. _ |
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