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Bunyip Land: A Story of Adventure in New Guinea, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 33. How I Nearly Made A Terrible Mistake |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTY THREE. HOW I NEARLY MADE A TERRIBLE MISTAKE We tried several times over to get our friend to speak, but the result was only a voluble burst of words in a tongue we could not comprehend, while all the time he seemed to be aware of his failing, and waved his hands and stretched them out to us as if begging us to forgive him for his weakness. "Let him be, Joe," whispered the doctor at last; "we may excite him by pressing him. Let him calm himself, and then perhaps he can speak." I felt as if it was resigning myself to utter despair, and it seemed that our attempt that night was to be in vain, when Jimmy suddenly popped up among us once more. "'Long here," he whispered, and we were about to follow him when our friend stopped us. "No; this way," he said, and he pointed in the opposite direction. "No, no! 'long here way," said Jimmy excitedly. "Much lot black fellow that way." "Never mind," I whispered; "let's follow him." "Jimmy find Mass Joe fader right 'long this way," cried the black. "Not go 'long other way." "Where is my father?" "Big hut over 'cross," said Jimmy. "Let's get round this way to it then," I whispered. "Come along." The doctor was already in advance, following our guide, and after striking the earth a heavy blow with his waddy to get rid of his anger, Jimmy followed me, not able to understand that we could get to the opposite point by going round one way as readily as by the other. It was very slow work and we had to labour hard, holding the bushes and trees so that they should not fly back upon those who followed us; but by dint of great care we got round at last to what, as far as I could judge, was the far side of the village, our principal guide being the sound of voices which came to us in a dull murmur that increased as we drew nearer, and at last we found ourselves similarly situated as to position, being at the back of another large hut. Here we waited, listening to the buzz of voices, till I wondered in my impatience what they could be discussing, and longed to ask our guide, but feared lest I should confuse him, now that perhaps he was about to do us good service if left alone. I was glad that I had kept quiet the next minute, for the doctor laid his hand upon my shoulder and whispered in my ear: "There is no doubt about it, my lad. We have reached the right spot. Your father is a prisoner in this very hut, and the savages are discussing whether they will keep him here or take him away." "What shall we do?" I whispered back in agony, for it seemed so terrible to have come all these hundreds of miles to find him, and then to sit down, as it were, quite helpless, without taking a step to set him free. "We can do nothing yet," he replied, "but wait for an opportunity to get him away." "Can you not make some plan?" I whispered back. "Hist!" He pressed my hand, for I had been growing louder of speech in my excitement, and just then there was a fresh outburst of voices from within the hut, followed by the trampling of feet and loud shouting, which seemed to be crossing the village and going farther away. "They have taken the prisoner to--" Our companion said the first words excitedly, and then stopped short. "Where?" I exclaimed aloud, as I caught at his arm. He answered me in the savage tongue, and with an impatient stamp of the foot I turned to the doctor. "What can we do?" I said. "It makes me wish to be a prisoner too. I should see him, perhaps, and I could talk to him and tell him that help was near." "While you shut up part of the help, and raised expectations in his breast, that would perhaps result in disappointment," replied the doctor. "We must wait, my lad, wait. The savages are excited and alarmed, and we must come when their suspicions are at rest." "What do you mean?" I said. "Do you mean to go back to-night without him?" "Not if we can get him away," he said; "but we must not do anything mad or rash." "No, no, of course not," I said despairingly; "but this is horrible: to be so close to him and yet able to do nothing!" "Be patient, my lad," he whispered, "and speak lower. We have done wonders. We have come into this unknown wild, and actually have found that the lost man is alive. What is more, we have come, as if led by blind instinct, to the very place where he is a prisoner, and we almost know the hut in which he is confined." "Yes, yes. I know all that," I said; "but it is so hard not to be able to help him now." "We are helping him," said the doctor. "Just think: we have this poor half-dazed fellow to glean some information, and we have a hiding-place near, and--Look out!" I turned my piece in the direction of the danger, for just then a member of our little expedition, who had been perfectly silent so far, uttered a savage growl and a fierce worrying noise. Simultaneously there was a burst of shouts and cries, with the sound of blows and the rush of feet through the bush. For the next few minutes there was so much excitement and confusion that I could hardly tell what happened in the darkness. All I knew was that a strong clutch was laid upon my shoulders, and that I was being dragged backwards, when I heard the dull thud of a blow and I was driven to the ground, with a heavy body lying across me. I partly struggled out of this position, partly found myself dragged out, and then, in a half-stunned, confused fashion, I yielded, as I was dragged through the dark forest, the twigs and boughs lashing my face horribly. I had kept tight hold of my gun, and with the feeling strong upon me that if I wished to avoid a second captivity I must free myself, I waited for an opportunity to turn upon the strong savage who held me so tightly in his grasp and dragged me through the bush in so pitiless a manner. He had me with his left hand riveted in my clothes while with his right hand, I presumed with a war-club, he dashed the bushes aside when the obstacles were very great. My heart beat fast as I felt that if I were to escape I must fire at this fierce enemy, and so horrible did the act seem that twice over, after laying my hand upon my pistol, I withdrew it, telling myself that I had better wait for a few minutes longer. And so I waited, feeling that, after all, my captivity would not be so bad as it was before, seeing that now I should know my father was near at hand. "I can't shoot now," I said to myself passionately; "I don't think I'm a coward, but I cannot fire at the poor wretch, and I must accept my fate." My arm dropped to my side, and at that moment my captor stopped short. "No hear um come 'long now," he said. "Jimmy!" I cried; and for a moment the air seemed full of humming, singing noises, and if I had not clung to my companion I should have fallen. _ |
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