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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 30 |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTY. I do not suppose that many who read this have ever heard a Red Indian's cry, and I hope those who have not never will. It was no doubt invented on purpose to scare an enemy, and it answers its purpose thoroughly. To me it sounded blood-curdling, and a curious sensation ran through me, as if the blood was chilling in my veins. But on thinking of it afterwards, I did not believe that it curdled, and on talking the matter over just before sitting down to write this narrative of my boyish adventures, my doctor said it was all nonsense; that the sensation was produced by the nerves, and that if a body's blood curdled there would be an end of him at once. Of course the doctor was right, for the effect of that cry was to make me drop down in the boat again, whisper to Pomp to pull, and row with all my might. Then another yell came from our right, and was answered from the forest, the Indian who shouted evidently being not very far away. "Hear dat, Mass' George?" said Pomp. "Yes; pull hard. It is the Indians." "Well, who car' for old Injum? Dey can't cotch us now." "Don't be too sure," I whispered. "There may be some of them waiting to shoot at us with their bows and arrows." Pomp turned his head quickly over his right shoulder to look at the low bushes and reedy plants by the river-bank, and in doing so thrust his oar too deeply down, with the result that he received a blow in the chest, his legs rose up in the air, and his head went down between my legs. He lay on his back for a moment staring wildly up at me over his forehead, his eyes rolling and his mouth wide. "Why Mass' George do dat?" he cried. "I didn't, you stupid little nigger," I cried, angrily. "Get up and mind your oar. You caught a crab. Pull!" Pomp scrambled back in his place, and began to pull again as hard as he could, for my voice had rather startled him. "What Mass' George say?" he whispered. "Pull!" "Yes, I pull; but what Mass' George say 'fore dat?" "I said you caught a crab." "Didn't! It was great big terrapum." "I mean you put your oar in too deep." "Den what for say catch um crab? Mass' George say Injum in de bush shootin' at Pomp, and den he look round an' no Injum dah; Mass' George play trick to fright um, and den call poor Pomp 'tupid lil nigger." "Will you hold your tongue and row?" I whispered fiercely. "Pomp can't hold um tongue and pull de oar bofe togedder." "Hush!" _Pow_--_ow_--_ow_--_ow_--_ow_--_ow_! Came faintly from among the trees, and Pomp turned sharply round, with circles of white showing round the dark part of his eyes; but this time he kept his oar out of the water, and the boat instead of turning toward the side continued to glide swiftly down the stream. "Dat de Injum?" he whispered. "Yes. Pull--hard!" He swung round in his place, and began to row again so sturdily that I had to work hard to keep the boat's head straight; and the stream favouring us, we went on down at a rapid rate, though every now and then I was obliged to whisper to him to easy as we neared some sharp curve or sandbank, to avoid which obstacles I had to keep turning round to look ahead. We had been rowing steadily like this for some time now without hearing the cries of the Indians, but I did not feel any the more confident, for I knew enough of their habits to think that when they were most silent the greatest danger might be near. The banks glided slowly by us, and we had this great advantage, that even if we slackened speed the boat still travelled fast. But Pomp worked hard, and evidently believing that the danger was entirely past, his spirits rose again and he began to laugh. "Poor ole Injum," he said; "I berry sorry for um. Poor ole Injum lose um knife. Pomp wonner what um say. How soon we get home now, Mass' George?" "Oh, it will take hours yet," I replied; and just then I turned my head to see that we were rapidly approaching a ridge of sand right in the middle of the river. I was about to give my oar a vigorous tug, when I noted that the stream divided, and ran in two swift currents on either side of the ridge. As we then were, I saw that the boat would go through the narrower one--the swifter evidently; and at the same moment a pile of wood and dead rubbish on the sandspit ceased to obstruct the view, and to my horror I saw that the little long islet, whose sands were only just above the level of the water, was occupied by a group of seven or eight alligators, the nearest being a monster, the rest varying to the smallest, which was not above three feet long. I involuntarily ceased rowing and Pomp did the same, just as we were entering the narrow channel, and so close to the sandspit, that the blade of the boy's oar held ready for the next dip swept over the sand. Pomp was gazing in the other direction, scanning the river-bank; and as I saw what was about to happen, I said in a quick whisper-- "Look out!" Almost as I spoke, the blade of Pomp's oar swept over the rugged horny coat of the largest alligator, which, like the rest, was sleeping in the hot sunshine perfectly ignorant of our near approach. The effect was instantaneous. As the boy turned sharply round to look out, the great reptile sprang up, opened its huge jaws, and made a snap at the oar-blade, whisked round its tail, striking the boat, and then made a series of plunges to reach the water on the other side, its actions alarming the rest, which on their retreat made the sandspit seem alive, and the water splash and foam; while Pomp uttered a yell of horror, loosed his hold of his oar, and dived down into the boat, to rise again and stare over the stern as soon as I told him the danger was past. It was all the work of a few moments, during which I was startled enough, especially when I saw the gaping jaws of the great reptile, and heard the snap it made at the oar-blade; but we were going swiftly by, and mingled with the terror there was something so comic in Pomp's actions, that in the reaction I began to laugh. This brought Pomp's face round directly, and his reproachful black eyes seemed to ask me what I could see to laugh at. "Come," I said, "you can't tell me I was playing tricks then.--Why, Pomp, your oar's overboard," I cried as I realised that fact. "Yes, Mass' George. Dat great 'gator 'wallow um." "Nonsense!" I cried, as I tried to check the progress of the boat on catching sight of the oar gliding swiftly down stream twenty yards away. "There it is. Wait till it comes close. I'll try and manage to get you near it." "Dah it am! Whah?" "There, just off to your left." "So um are, Mass' George. 'Gator no like um, an' 'pit um out 'gain." "There: mind! Now then, quick! Catch hold." I had managed to check the boat enough to let the oar overtake us, and Pomp made a snatch at it, but drew back sharply with a low cry of horror. "What's the matter now?" I said. "Make haste; you'll lose it." "Great big Injum down dah," he whispered, hoarsely. "Um want to bite off poor Pomp arm." "Nonsense! How could an Indian be there?" I said, as we floated on side by side with the oar. "Injum? Pomp say great big 'gator. You look, Mass' George." "You said Indian, Pomp," I continued, as I drew in my oar, picked up the boat-hook, and went cautiously to the side to look down into the transparent water, where, sure enough, one of the reptiles was swimming along; but it was quite a small one, and a sharp dig down with the boat-hook sent it undulating away, and I recovered the oar, passing it to Pomp with a gesture, as there arose once more a cry from the forest right away back, and it was answered in two places. Pomp took the oar and began to row again steadily, staring back at the sandspit, now fast growing distant. Then all at once, as the faint cry arose from the forest-- "Dat not Injum," he cried sharply; "dat fock." "Fox!" I said, recalling the little jackal-like creatures, of which I had seen one or two that had been shot by Morgan. "Yes, dat fock. Um shout like dat to noder fock in um wood when um lose umself." "Yes, but that would be at night," I said, wondering whether he was right. "'Pose um lose umself in de day. Make um cry?" "No," I said, thoughtfully. "It is like the cry of the fox, Pomp, but I think it's the Indians making it." "Why Injum cry out like fock when um can cry like Injum?" "To deceive any one who hears them." "What deceive?" said Pomp. "Cheat--trick." "Oh!" he said, and we rowed on steadily hour after hour, realising how we must have increased our distance from home in the night. Sometimes as we swept round one of the river bends we encountered a breath of fresh air, but mostly deep down in that narrow way winding through the forest the heat was intense; and there were times when, as I paused to sweep the perspiration from my face, I felt that I must give up, and lie down at the bottom of the boat. But almost invariably at these times I heard faintly what I believed to be the Indians calling to each other as they came on through the forest; and in the hope that perhaps after all we had got the start, and would reach home in time to give the alarm, I tugged at my oar again, and so long as I rowed Pomp never for a moment flagged. But I could not keep his tongue quiet. Now he would be making derisively defiant remarks about the 'gators; then he had something disparaging to say about the Indians; and when I spoke to him angrily he would be quiet for a time, but only to burst out with reproaches at me for calling him a "'tupid lil nigger." Nothing ever hurt Pomp's feelings more than that term, which seemed to him the very extreme of reviling, and always went straight to his heart. It was getting toward evening, and a rich orange glow was beginning to glorify the long reach of the river down which we were rowing-- sluggishly now, for we were both tired out--when it struck me that I had not heard the cry for some time now, and I made the remark to Pomp. "No; fock gone asleep now till de moon get up. Den fock get up too, an' holler." "No, Pomp," I said, "it's the Indians, and they are silent because they are getting near the house now." "So Pomp get near de house, and don't care for de Injum. He so dreffle hungry." So was I; but my intense anxiety drove away all that, and I tried to tug harder at the oar, for I knew that we were near home now; familiar trees and corners of the stream kept coming into view, and I was just thinking that very soon I should be able to look behind me and see our landing-place, when a faintly-heard hail came along the river. We both turned sharply, and Pomp exclaimed in words what I only too gratefully saw-- "Dah de capen an Mass' Morgan in 'noder boat. Wha my fader too?" I stood up for a moment and waved my hand, and then sat down, and we both pulled our best, after Pomp had grumbled a little, and wanted to let the boat float down alone. A few minutes later I was holding on to the gunwale of the strange boat in which my father was seated, almost too much exhausted to speak. "I was getting uneasy about you, my boy," my father said, "for there have been some fresh rumours at the settlement about Indians, and Morgan went round and borrowed this boat; we were coming on to see after you. Why, George, is anything the matter?" "Yes, father," I panted. "The Indians--they are coming on." "No," said Pomp sharply, and he struck his hand on the side of the boat to emphasise his words. "Mass' George hear de fock--lose him lil self an holler, and he only tink it de--Ah, look! Look, Mass' George, look! Who dat?" He pointed back up the steam, where at the edge of the bank that the river swept round previous to passing along the straight reach, there stood two tall figures, their feathers and wild dress thrown up by the bright glare of the setting sun. They were evidently reconnoitring, and though we saw them clearly for a few seconds, the next moment they seemed to have died away. "Indians," said my father, drawing in his breath with a low hiss; "and we must not neglect this warning. Morgan, I'll get in here with the boys; you go back, make your boat fast at the landing-place, and run up to the house, and bring your wife and Hannibal down." "But the things in the house, sir?" "Lives are of more importance than chattels, man," said my father, in his sternest and most military way. "Tell your wife she is to stop for nothing, but to come." "An' s'pose she won't, sir?" said Morgan sharply. "Carry her," said my father laconically, as he stepped into our boat and pushed the other off. "But bring nothing else, sir?" said Morgan, piteously. "Yes; two guns, and all the ammunition you can carry; but be quick, man, we shall be waiting at the landing-place. The Indians are coming in earnest now. We shall stop till you come, and open fire if it is necessary." My father capped the gun he had brought from the boat. "Stop. Hand me your gun and pouches." Morgan gave a stroke or two with his oar, and brought the boats alongside of each other again, then handed the gun to me. "Now then," said my father, "off! Remember, I shall be trying to keep the Indians at bay if they show, and delay on your part may mean the loss of our lives and--your own." Morgan gave his head a sharp nod, bent to his oars, and my father turned to me, and cried, as if he were addressing a line of men-- "Load!" _ |
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