O'er Many Lands, on Many Seas, Gordon Stables [microsoft ebook reader TXT] 📗

smoke rising, and had no doubt that here our friends were encamped.

 

"We speedily held a council of war, at which we discussed the best plan

for attacking the Indians.

 

"We stirred not then till long past nine o'clock, when the moon rose and

flooded all the landscape. Then we took to the swamp. It was a

terrible ride: at times our horses floundered in the quagmires, at other

times they had to swim, to our imminent danger of being devoured by the

huge alligators with which the place seemed to swarm. We startled the

birds from their beds in the reeds, the wild beasts from their lairs in

the patches of jungle, and herds of fleet-footed creatures fled,

bounding away towards the forest at sight of us. It was a dangerous

ride. But we cared for nothing now; it was life or death with us. We

must reach the camp of the Indians, conquer them, or die in the attempt.

 

"All night we rode, struggling and fighting against fearful odds; but at

five o'clock in the morning, or about one hour before sunrise, we left

the plain and entered the forest, determined to take our foes by

surprise. The ride through the tangled forest, without any pathway save

that made by the beasts, was one of extreme difficulty. But we were

free at last; and tethering our horses, we prepared for the attack. We

could see the Indians on a small plateau not three hundred yards beneath

us, asleep by their smouldering fires. But we were on the brow of a

hill, they much nearer the plain; beneath was a precipice, overhung with

trailing shrubs and creepers, fully five hundred feet in depth, which it

was impossible to descend without risk of being seen.

 

"The place the Indians had chosen for a camping-ground was fortified by

nature. Probably that is the reason they had not troubled to set a

sentry. We saw our advantage at once; it was to make a detour, gain the

level of the plain, then creep up the hill upon them, attacking both in

flank and rear.

 

"We carried out our plans most successfully. Few but sailors could have

climbed up the rocks which led to the plateau. So steep were they that

in some places the loosening of a stone or one false step might mean

death.

 

"Just as we were at the very brink of this precipice, and within twenty

yards of where the enemy lay, a bough snapped with a loud report, and

next moment they were all up and on the alert.

 

"There was no need for further concealment; we speedily showed

ourselves, poured a volley into their bewildered ranks, and before they

could recover from their surprise we were on them with our muskets,

which we used as clubs.

 

"They were nearly three to one. They fought like fiends. So did we,

and the battle for a time was desperate. They were beaten at last, and

the few who remained alive ran shrieking away towards the rocks. We

cared but little how they fared.

 

"Our mate and another man were wounded, but not severely, and in two

days' time we were able to resume our journey.

 

"Providence was kind to us. We came upon a broad old war-road that led

through the forest and jungles and plains towards the setting sun, and

in one week more we were overjoyed to find ourselves standing on a

hill-side overlooking a verdant plain, with a river and a town, and

beyond it the blue sea itself, studded with the ships of many nations.

 

"And those who climb the hills in Greenland in spring-time to catch the

first rays of the returning sun, were not more joyful than we were now.

We laughed and shouted, and I believe the tears rolled down over our

cheeks.

 

"But we did not forget to kneel down there, and, with our faces on the

ground, thank in silence the kind Father who had led us through so many

troubles and dangers. And now, Nie, the storm is gone. We must thank

these good people for their kind hospitality, and start."

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

 

"Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes

Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,

The bird of dawning singeth all night long:

And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad.

The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike.

No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm;

So hallow'd and so gracious is the time."

 

Shakespeare.

 

It was Christmas Eve. It was going to be an old old-fashioned

Christmas, too, there was no mistake about that. And to-night the snow

lay fully two feet deep on the lawn in front of Rowan Tree Villa. The

sky was overspread with masses of darkest cloud that were being

continually driven onward on the wings of a fierce north wind, seldom

permitting even one solitary star to peep out. The storm roared through

the leafless elm trees, and shrieked and moaned among the giant poplars.

It was indeed a wild and wintry night.

 

Ah! but it didn't prevent my old and faithful Ben from making his

appearance, though what with his long white beard, his snow-clad coat,

and his round, rosy, laughing face, when I went myself to open the hall

door to him, I really took him for King Christmas himself.

 

But half an hour afterwards, when the crimson curtains were closely

drawn, when the table was laden with good cheer, the two great

Newfoundlands sleeping on the ample hearthrug, old Polly asleep on her

perch, the cat singing on the footstool, and the kettle on the hob, with

Ben at one side of the fire, his pipe in full blast, and myself at the

other, you would have admitted we looked just as snug and jolly as there

was any occasion to be.

 

"Well, Nie, lad," said Ben, "this is what I call the quintessence of

comfort. Heave round with a yarn."

 

"Just the thing," said I; "but what shall it be?"

 

"Well, we're cosy enough here, that's certain, Nie, and as contrasts are

pleasant sometimes, why, let's hear of some doings of yours in the ice

and snow."

 

"So let it be, Ben; I will tell you of a Christmas I once spent in the

Arctic Ocean."

 

"Not a very jolly one, I suppose," Ben replied.

 

"Not so dull as you might imagine, I can tell you. Ours was a brave

brig, as strong as iron and oak could make us. It seemed to me that

there were no icebergs big enough to hurt us. We had spent the summer

whaling in Baffin's Bay. The sport we had, so far as birds and bears

and seals and foxes were concerned, was as good as anyone could have

wished; while the wild grandeur of the scenery, and the very desolation

of some of it, are painted on the tablets of my memory, and will remain

for ever. But we had not the fortune to kill a single whale.

 

"Then winter came on us all at once, and we found ourselves frozen in,

in one of the dreariest packs of ice it has ever been my lot to lie in.

The days got shorter and shorter, till the sun at last went down to rise

no more for months. We had the glorious aurora, though, and moonlight

and stars, but sometimes for weeks together snows fell and storms raged,

and we were enveloped in total darkness and a silence deep and awful as

that of the very vaults of death. We managed, despite the weather, to

give Christmas a welcome, and were gay enough for a time. Perhaps it

was our very gaiety at this season that caused us to be so gloomy and

disheartened afterwards.

 

"Sickness came, the black death almost decimated our crew, and when, in

the cold bleak spring-time, the sun returned, and the ice opened and

allowed us to stagger southwards, though the whales were plentiful,

there were not men enough to man the boats, and hardly enough to set the

sails.

 

"I had been an invalid; indeed, I had barely escaped with life, and it

would be long ere I was fit again for the wild roving existence and wild

sports in which my soul was so much bound up.

 

"`Come with me, sir,' said our captain when we reached New York at last.

`I'm going south for the good of my health, and I have cousins near San

Francisco, and it is right welcome we both shall be.'

 

"`Are they ladies?' I asked.

 

"`Ay, and dear good sisterly girls at that,' he answered.

 

"My savage nature rather rebelled against the society of ladies, Ben;

bears and wolves were more in my line. But I could not offend my kind

friend, so consented to go.

 

"`We'll take it easy,' he said, `and have a look at the land as we go

south.'

 

"We did take it easy. We visited all the lovely and enchanting scenery

of the Adirondacks, then went slowly south and west; we lingered for

weeks in the Yellowstone Park. It was summer, all the woods and forests

were astir with life, the prairies gay with gorgeous flowers; there was

joy all around us; we drank in health in every breath we breathed.

 

"I felt myself no longer an invalid when we arrived at the home of my

captain's cousins, an old-fashioned log mansion, with verandahs and

porticoes around which gigantic creepers flower-laden trailed and

twined, and cooled the sun's rays that sifted through their leaves, ere

they entered the beautifully-furnished rooms. There were wide, grassy,

park-like lawns, terraces, and fountains, and everything that wealth

could bestow or luxury suggest adorned this lovely spot. The owner was

a retired planter. His servants were still slaves, but the master was

kindness itself to even the meanest of them.

 

"I would now fain have resumed my old life, and gone with rod or gun in

hand to the forest, the mountain, and stream. But I was not to be

permitted to do so. I must still consider myself an invalid. Such were

the orders of my captain's cousins. So I became a willing captive, and

did all that the dear kind-hearted girls told me.

 

"And, indeed, sitting under the shade of a cool and leafy orange-tree,

the air perfumed with its delightful scent, with Letitia quietly sewing

beside me, and Miriam reading `The Lady of the Lake,' was as good a way,

Ben, of passing a drowsy summer's afternoon as any I ever tried."

 

"Didn't you fall in love?" asked Ben slyly.

 

"Don't ask any questions," I replied. "Stir the fire, my boy; just hear

how the wind is roaring, and the hail rattling against the panes."

 

"Ugh!" said Ben, with a little shudder as he applied the poker to the

blazing coals. "Well, go on, Nie."

 

"When I got still a little stronger, we, the captain's cousins and I,

used to go for long rambles to the hills and woods, and sometimes south

to a picnic or dance.

 

"There are giants in the forests of California, Ben. Once, I remember,

our ball-room was the stump of an old tree, the lofty pines its walls,

and the blue sky its roof.

 

"As I happened one day to let out rather inadvertently that I was,

virtually speaking, a homeless man, a wanderer over the wide, wide

world, my good host said bluntly, but kindly:

 

"`Then, my dear sir, you are a prisoner here for the next six months.

Come, I won't take a word of denial.'

 

"Well, I had to give in, if only for the simple reason that both the

girls added their influence to that of their father; I promised to stay,

and didn't repent it.

 

"Though I say it myself, Ben, I was soon a favourite with all the slaves

about the old estate. I daresay I had my favourites among them; it is

only natural. One of these was Shoe-Sally, another was Shoe-Sally's

little brother Tom. They were both characters in their way, and both

oddities. Shoe-Sally was quite a personage about the old mansion. She

seemed to do anything and everything, and to be here, there, and

everywhere all at the same time. Shoe-Sally also knew everything, or

appeared to do so, and she