Chapter VIII: Invasion by Savages--Fearful Fighting

For ten all too brief but happy months the _Zingara_ had lain at anchor in the beautiful island bay. Though storms had raged at times, she was so well protected in a kind of land-locked harbour, that danger was never dreaded.

Antonio had already made what is called a good voyage--that is, a remunerative one, and the vessel was well laden with sponges, mother-of-pearl, many beautiful specimens of shells, all collected by our young heroes, together with the rarest specimens of coleoptera or beetles, of marvellous colours, with splendidly coloured butterflies, as large as ladies’ fans. These latter, Antonio had determined to present to the British Museum, along with hundreds of specimens of the wild flora of the island. Many of them he had treated chemically, and so skilfully that they would retain their beautiful colours indefinitely. He had added to this collection also many rare birds, that probably had never been seen alive or dead in Britain.

Leona still continued her sermons to the people, and incalculable was the good these had already done.

Especially severe too had she been on the awful habit of devouring human flesh. Indeed, it is not too much to say that in these ten short months she had converted a cannibal island into a Christian community.

So earnest was Leona in the work which she really believed God had given her to perform.

* * * * *

The pearl-fishery and sponge-bleaching still continued. In order to take up as little room as possible on board, the dried sponges were packed in bales and weighted down.

But the valuable pearls, especially the pearl which was a fortune in itself, were stowed away in a small fire-proof safe in the captain’s cabin.

WHAT WAS ANTONIO GARCIA’s REAL CHARACTER?

This is a question which the reader may have already asked himself. It is a question that myself and mess-mates of H.M.S. _P----_ often asked ourselves and each other, when first we made the weird little man’s acquaintance in the city of Bombay.

We met him by accident, and could not help being struck with not only his erudition and scientific knowledge, but his strange weird manner, and the glamour of his mysterious glass eye. That he had a history we felt sure--a history and a past. So we, at his own invitation, went often to see him.

He lived in a bungalow in the outskirts, that is, beyond the site of the old walls. But the little man, and his Mahratta servants also, always went armed with dagger and revolver. He laughingly explained to us that he went in daily danger and fear of his life; for that, as far as he was concerned, he said, he cared nothing, but the happiness of others dear to him was bound up in his.

We knew too that he was in haste to amass wealth. We found out that he was doing so on the Stock Exchange, or by speculation.

There was then a great company started, for the purpose of reclaiming some miles of the shallow sea around Bombay. Antonio was much taken with the scheme, and bought heavily of the shares at par. They mounted up to a wondrous price; and one night, so he told us, he had a dream. Some thing, or creature, covered with slime and seaweed, crawled up out of the sea, and thrice repeated a warning to Antonio, anent the Ocean Reclamation Company.

Next day Antonio sold out, and only just in time, for a week or two after, the bubble burst. Perhaps Antonio Garcia and the promoters of the scheme were the only persons who had profited thereby.

But the questions remained. What was the meaning of the man, so to speak? Was he a wizard or a sorcerer--his powers of hypnotism were very great--or was he _mad_? Why his haste to amass wealth?

Again, we could not help noticing his great influence over the lower animals. Whence this magic power that caused even the birds of the air, and smaller beasts of the jungle, to come at his call, and even feed from his hands?

While out walking--and he used to walk a deal--I have never met him without seeing a pigeon or two, or gulls flying tack and half tack close around him.

Again, he was ever trying to do good to those around him, even to little Hindoo children. Was he sincere?

This question we had to answer by asking another: Would birds, and beasts, and children have loved him so had he not been sincere?

Something else we could not help noticing: every forenoon a tall and handsome Mahommedan, dressed outwardly in a long _green_ cloak of camel’s hair, used to call at Antonio’s bungalow, leaving his sandals on the doorstep. (We never went in when we saw the sandals.) This reverend, patriarchal-looking old man was a real scion of the prophet, and used to teach Antonio both Hebrew and Sanscrit.

But this was another mystery. I remember that in our mess we summed Antonio up thus: He is either a sincerely pious and good man, as he appears to be, or he is working towards some mysterious end, and is in league with the Evil One.

Reader, I should be giving myself away were I to unravel the mystery now.

* * * * *

Life on the island and on the sweet blue sea around it had become very delightful now.

Strange that our religion should be capable of remoulding even the heart of a savage and cannibal. But so indeed it is.

Perhaps, though, never was the Gospel preached with more earnestness, or gentle and sweet persuasiveness, than that which fell from the tongue of Leona.

There was no rant, no cant. It was all commonsense. It was heart appealing to heart, therefore it was effectual.

But now, alas! the character of my story--through no fault of mine--must change in a moment almost from that of peace to wild war.

My clansman, the good and great General Gordon, who was slain at Khartoum, used to say that war was a weapon of Jehovah Himself, and that we poor blind worms, crawling on this earth below, must not question the goodness of the Being who made us all.

Well, reader, we will know everything in good time; all we have got to remember now is, that our minds are but finite, and we see darkly and dimly. “Who by searching shall find out God?” Man never shall nor can in this world.

But not to digress: the woodland scenery of the island was enchanting, either on hill or plain. True, there were a few snakes in the woods, but our heroes never meddled with them. Sometimes a beautiful green thing, like the thong of a whip, would depend from the branch of a tree, or one would wobble out from a bunch of bananas; only they were more frightened than our boys themselves, and always dropped down and fled.

There was also a long thin snake, called the fire-serpent, of which the natives were terribly afraid. It was of a bright crimson colour, and very lovely.

Once one shot itself half out from a tree-fern stem, and hissed in Barclay’s face.

It did not strike. Had it done so, poor Barclay Stuart would have dropped out of this story.

There were very many different kinds of lizards. One was the eyed-lizard, green with yellow spots, very lovely--tame, too, to a degree. Davie Drake captured one in his handkerchief and took it off to the ship. It grew to a length of eighteen inches, and was never happier than when being made cosy, and cuddled by little Teenie.

Pussy took to it also; but the very sight of it caused the monkeys to scream with fear, and shake and tremble like leaves of the linn.[10] Well, now that there was no danger to be apprehended from the savages, Teenie always accompanied the boys on their natural history expeditions; and always came back laden with wild flowers, and never without orange blossom.

Johnnie Smart went also to carry luncheon; and much indeed this last was enjoyed, while the party were seated high up on a wooded brae perhaps, or close by the side of some purling stream, where silvery fishes used to be seen leaping up out of the pools in sheer wantonness, regardless that their enemies, the rainbow king-fishers, were darting hither and thither among the green boughs.

They seldom took luncheon on the beach, because of the alligators. These loathsome monsters not only lay basking on the coral sand, but even swam long distances out to sea.

Well, one day, or rather early one morning, our heroes and little heroine had gone to a distant part of the island after some strange curios.

All at once they sighted the beach. To their horror they found it covered with at least 500 swift canoes. Probably a thousand warriors also lined the beach. They were arrayed in all the ghastly panoply of savage warfare, and were lying at ease in all positions, but close to their guns and spears.

The presence of our young people in the wood adjoining was speedily perceived, and a dozen warriors immediately started to give chase. Only fleetness of foot could now save our boys and little Teenie. They took to the thickest part of the wood--Barclay Stuart, who was very strong for his age, carrying Teenie.

The warriors never overtook them. But, alas for poor Johnnie Smart! Fat lads are no good in active service, and Johnnie was made prisoner.

His fate would be sealed, and that night or next morning the savages would have a _bukalo_ feast.

They came from a distant isle, and were a fierce, implacable tribe called the Wah-Poolas.

Our boys were soon at the king’s house, where luckily they found Antonio.

Instant action must be taken; so all hands were summoned, and the king’s best soldiers, in two hours’ time, were ready for the war-path.

It was determined that they should attack the invaders from the woods, while Antonio’s armed boats, with riflemen and war-rockets, should sweep round the point and attack them from the sea.

As for poor, unfortunate Johnnie Smart, with his innocent ways and fat laughing face, his doom would soon be sealed.

In fact these Wah-Poola cannibals would have him for supper, garnished with the fragrant leaves of a kind of bay-tree plentifully to be found in the forest.

Everything was well managed and well timed. Mlada the king, armed with his terrible spear, was to conduct the land forces, and the attack would be made simultaneously, the signal being the firing of a gun from the boats.

By twelve o’clock the forces were on the move towards the sea, and at one the awful conflict began.

But shortly after rounding a green promontory, the five well-armed boats of the _Zingara_ came upon a dreadful scene.

On a rock, in-shore, blazed a fierce and brightly burning fire of wood. Advancing towards this was at least two hundred demoniacal warriors. They were black and awful; and as they marched they chanted some wild, unearthly kind of song, varied by shrill screams, while they waved aloft their guns and spears, and bent their naked bodies to and fro, and from side to side.

Suspended between two forked sticks, and held high aloft, was a strong bamboo, fully seven feet long.

Underneath this, with pinioned hands and legs, and tied to the bamboo by cords, hung the unfortunate fat boy.

It was evident he was alive, although doubtless soon to be murdered.

This party must be attacked first, at all hazards.

The boats are now well round the point. In their blind frenzy the cannibals have not seen them, nor do they, till a terrible war-rocket goes tearing through their ranks, followed by another, and still another.

For a moment they scatter in confusion across the beach, but quickly reform _en masse_. Twenty at least of their number lie dead on the coral sands, that are dyed with their blood.

Forming in close columns was the worst formation they could have adopted.

For now the rifles of Antonio’s men play awful havoc in their ranks.

The bearers of the poor, unhappy, fat boy have made for the bush with him. Presently, however, they emerge without their burden, and a company of Mlada’s men follow speedily after, with loud cries for vengeance.

Quickly, now, after firing one other volley, the sailors sweep onwards to the shore, and assist with revolver and bayonet in the dreadful tulzie.

It is indeed a wild and fearsome fight, but in the end the enemy are beaten. They are beaten, they are surrounded, and--awful to say, annihilated.

No mercy, no quarter is given, even to the wounded.

But this is, after all, but the introduction to the pitched battle that follows.

For quickly now, along the silver sands, where the blue sea is breaking and singing in long, white, curling lines, comes the main body.

From the boats, war-rockets considerably disconcert the savages, but they are not to be denied.

With wild slogan and shout, the horrid horde rushes on.