The steward returned in three minutes' time.
"The captain wants to see you, sir."
"Oh, certainly; that is an order."
And off he marched to obey it.
When he entered Flint stood up, smiling.
"I'm afraid, doctor," he said, "I've been too hard. Are you willing to let bygones be bygones?"
Who could have resisted an appeal like this? It was as nearly an apology as any captain could make to a junior officer. And he held out his hand as he spoke.
"Willing," cried Grant with Scotch enthusiasm, "ay, and delighted! You know, sir, I'm only a wild Highlander, so I lost my balance when—but there, never mind. 'Tis past and gone for ever and for aye."
Then there was a hearty handshake and both sat down.
"There is the wine," said the commander, "and there is the whisky."
"I'll have the whisky," said Grant, "though not much. But it is the wine of my country, sir."
The commander smiled, and Grant drew the cruet towards him, quoting as he did so and while he tapped the bottle, the words of Burns:
"When neebors anger at a plea,
And just as wud[2] as wud can be,
How easy can the barley-bree
Cement the quarrel!
It's aye the cheapest lawyer's fee
To taste the barrel."
[2] Wud=angry.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Some time after this the commander fell ill, and so kind was Grant to him, and so constant in his attentions, that all animosity fled for ever, and Flint really got fond of Grant, whom he delighted when visiting on shore to call "my surgeon".
Well, whatever ill-feeling officers or men may exhibit toward each other if penned up in a small mess, when war comes it is all forgotten, and the British sailors and marines, when sent on shore to fight, stand shoulder to shoulder, and woe be to the foe who faces them.
One day, while lying off Loanda, startling intelligence came to the commander of the Rattler from a steam launch that had been despatched in all haste to hurry her up to the mouth of the Benin river. A party of European traders, many British as well as foreign, had been surrounded and massacred to a man. The steam launch belonged to H.M.S. Centiped, a cruiser far larger than the Rattler. The officer in charge could hardly stop to eat or drink, but food was handed over the side, and in ten minutes' time she was once more under weigh and steering rapidly north.
A glance at a map of Africa will show you that Loanda lies well to the south of the Bight of Benin, and show you, too, where the great river Niger or Quorra empties itself into the Gulf of Guinea.
All was now bustle and stir on board the Rattler. Steam was ordered to be got up at once. There used to be disputes between the engineer and captain, but these were all forgotten now.
Would you believe it, reader, that all hands, from the commander to the dark-skinned Kroomen from Sierra Leone, were as merry and happy as if they were going to a fancy ball instead of to battle and to carnage. Such is your British sailor.
Dinner was ordered half an hour sooner, so that the men should have plenty of time to get their arms and accoutrements into perfect fighting trim before the sun went down at four bells in the first dog-watch.
The captain felt in fine form; for whatever faults he had, he certainly was no coward.
He liked his middies well, too, when he had not those nasty little fits of bad temper on. To-day he walked up and down the quarter-deck holding our hero Creggan by the arm, and not only talking to him but encouraging the boy himself to talk.
Creggan was nothing loath. But from some words he let fall, Commander Flint found he had a romantic early history.
"You must come and dine with me to-night," he said, "and tell me all your story. You and Dr. Grant."
"Oh, thank you, sir.
"And now," added Creggan, "may I take the liberty of asking you just one question?"
"Certainly, Mr. M'Vayne, certainly."
"Well, sir, do you think we shall have a real battle with the savages?"
"Sure to, and perhaps half a dozen. The case seems very grave, you know."
"Well, I'll be glad to see some fighting."
"Bravo! And now you can go and tell the steward I want him."
Off went Creggan, and next minute up popped the steward.
"Sir?" he said.
"Splice the main brace," said the commander.
(This means, reader, an extra glass of rum to all hands.)
By this time the Rattler was ploughing her way through the bright blue sea, and heading for the north.
Exciting adventures were before them.
"In the city of Benin," said the commander, that night at dinner, "and all around it, westward to Dahomey, Abomey, and Ashantee, they are a bad lot, an accursed lot, treacherous and cruel to a degree."
"I've heard it said," Creggan ventured to remark, "that the men of Benin are not brave, Captain Flint."
The captain shook his head and smiled.
"We must not believe all we hear. Remarks like these are generally made by gentlemen journalists who live at home at ease. But I've been there, lad, and found it altogether different."
The dinner passed off very comfortably indeed. Dr. Grant would not touch wine, but when dessert had been removed, and the commander ordered the steward to bring in the tumblers, he helped himself somewhat liberally to the wine of his native land.
"Well, Captain Flint," he said, "I haven't really been a dog's watch[1] in the service, as you might say, and with the exception of a brush with the Arabs on the East Coast of Africa, and north of the Equator, I've never seen what we in Scotland term 'solid fighting'."
[1] The dog-watches are from four to six and six to eight every evening, and therefore only two hours long, while all the others are four hours.
"I think you will have a chance now, doctor."
"Ay, sir; and I won't begrudge flailing around with the claymore a bit, and seeing my patients afterwards."
"Tell us something about Benin, sir, if you please," said Creggan.
"Well, lad, I've told you that the people are fearful savages when aroused, although seemingly quiet enough at all other times. Benin, you know, is really a country extending to Ashantee. Once exceedingly powerful, and densely populated still, it is now divided into many half-independent states.
"The city itself lies nearly eighty miles up the river Niger, from the Atlantic Ocean or Gulf of Guinea. It is about twenty miles inland. This river is miles wide where it joins the sea, and if you once get over the bar, it may be cautiously navigated by boats and launches nearly all the way up. But there is the dreaded bar to cross. What are those lines, lad, about Greenland's icy mountains?"
"Oh, I know," said Creggan, holding up one arm as if he were a school-boy.
"'From Greenland's icy mountains,
From India's coral strand;
Where Afric's sunny fountains
Roll down their golden sand.'
"Is there a lot of golden sand, sir?"
"There is a lot of constantly shifting black-brown mud, but if you expect to find gold or see it, you'll be sadly disappointed.
"The city itself contains from twelve to twenty thousand natives, as well as I could guess.
"The king is a savage emperor of the deepest and blackest dye. His reign is a reign of terror. He rules his unhappy subjects with rods of iron and knives of steel. I hope you'll never see what I have seen there. The sight of those human sacrifices, boy, would return to your dreams for years afterwards. They do to mine, whenever I am ill or troubled."
"You saw them, sir?"
"I was despatched on a mission of peace, one might say. I had a body-guard of fifty armed men, and blue-jackets and marines, and had need been, we could have fought our way to our boats through all the king's fanatics.
"The mission was this. You must know that all the coast-line is British, and the people at home were constantly being shocked to hear of the terrible human sacrifices occurring in Benin, while it was nothing uncommon to find a mutilated and headless corpse, that the sharks had spared, cast up with outspread arms on the beach."
"Terrible!" said Dr. Grant.
"Yes. And my mission was not to take revenge, but to endeavour pacifically to get the king to give up those massacres of men, women, and helpless children, for whom he had no more pity than the self-named sportsmen who follow the Queen's hounds have for the innocent and hunted stag.
"The king was amply supplied with bad rum or arrack, the worst and most fiery of all spirits. He got this stuff from the palm-oil traders of Gato, men who came from Portugal and even Britain itself.
"He was three sheets in the wind when we arrived on a beautiful afternoon. He told us, through our interpreter, how delighted he was to see us, and how he would give us a grand show next morning.
"We occupied portions of his grass-hut palace, keeping well together after lying down on grass mats, with our arms by our sides; for as the king had got drunker and drunker, and was now yelling and whooping like a madman, we feared he would make an attempt to murder us all before morning.
"You see, Creggan, that cutting throats was a fancy or fad of this brutal monarch's, just as collecting foreign stamps is with most English boys.
"All around the back part of the palace lay bleaching skulls and skeletons, that the blue-bottle flies and ants had polished, and recent corpses also, from which so fearful a stench arose and poisoned the air that we could scarcely sleep.
"But I fell off at last, and the sun was shining over the dense forests of the East before I awoke. Something was going on behind. Something dreadful, I felt sure. There was a low and pitiful moaning, but no cries. Yet every now and then came a dull thud, similar to that which a butcher makes in splitting a pig in two.
"I peeped through the back wattled wall. Oh, lad, may you never see such a sight!
"Over fifty poor creatures were huddled together mournfully awaiting their doom. Every half-minute one was dragged out, and stood with his or her hands between the knees and head bent down, till the cruel blow fell that severed that head from the body.
"But three or four were crucified in another corner.
"My remonstrances were in vain. The king only laughed, and told me that it was all got up in my honour.
"As no more could be done, we left almost immediately. We regaled ourselves on fruits as we passed on through the jungle to our sailor-guarded boat, and glad enough were we all when we found ourselves rowing once more down the beautiful river, on each bank of which—alive with beautiful birds—the foliage and trees were like the forests and woodlands of fairyland.
"But," continued the commander, "to change the subject to one more pleasant, tell us the story of your young life, my lad."
Nothing loath, Creggan told the doctor and him all he knew from his babyhood, and all about the hermit also.
"Why, it is a perfect romance, Creggan," said Flint.
"Indeed it is," said Grant. "I'll take more interest in the lad now than ever."
* * * * * * * * * * *
Arrived at the mouth of the Niger, they found the Centiped anchored outside the bar.
She was not going to venture across, being too large.
On the bar itself the breakers were dashing and curling house-high. There was just one gap in the centre, and through this the saucy Rattler must force her way.
Before proceeding she was lightened as much as possible, that is, all men not required were sent on board the cruiser.
Then "Go ahead at full speed", was the order.
The Rattler's full speed was nothing very extraordinary, but when she reached the gap at last and entered it, poor Creggan felt appalled. The roar of a seeming Niagara at each side was so terrible, that even through the speaking-trumpet scarcely could the skipper's voice be heard.
The roar was mingled with a seething, hissing sound, which was even more deafening than the thunder of the breakers itself.
She bumped her keel several times on the bottom, which here was hard, so violently that the men were thrown down, and Creggan began to say his prayers, thinking the ship must undoubtedly become a wreck. Nevertheless, in a minute or two they were into the deep smooth water inside the bar. Here she was anchored for a time, until all the marines and blue-jackets of both ships were got on board the Rattler. The boats and steam launch would accompany the expedition, and after all were loaded up with armed men, the advance was made up stream.
It was now about two bells in the forenoon watch, and they expected to get up as high as it was possible before night.
This it was found impossible to do, so she was anchored, and next day succeeded in reaching a station some forty miles from the sea, called Sapelé. This in launches, the gun-boat being left further down. Here to their joy they found a fort or barracks, containing in all about two hundred and fifty officers and men (soldiers).
The expeditionary force from the Rattler was soon landed and hailed with delight. Together they were now quite a strong little army.
The commanding officer told Captain[2] Flint a sickening story of the massacre of the traders.
[2] A Commander in the Royal Navy is not in reality a captain, but is usually addressed so by courtesy.
"The king, in fact," he said, "is jealous of the approach of the Protectorate."
After the murders he, the officer, had sent a sergeant with a flag of truce and several Kroomen, to ask for an interview with the tyrant.
Two days afterwards the white sergeant dragged himself, wounded and half-dead, into barracks. Before he expired, poor fellow, he had only time to report that every Krooman was murdered, and that Benin was in a state of terrible ferment, like a hive of hornets.
"And so, Captain Flint," he added, "between your force and mine, I think we can give this murderous assassin such a drubbing that he will not forget it for years."
"We'll do our best," said Flint; "and I suppose the sooner we start the better."
"Certainly; it is always wiser to attack than wait to be attacked."
So it was determined to give the little army a hearty supper, let them turn in early, and ready to start by three, inland now through the jungle, towards Benin. The real distance from Sapelé to Benin is, I believe, about twenty-five miles, but the road, if road it could be called, was bad enough in all conscience.
Nevertheless, it was determined to drag along two guns, with a good supply of shell. The bugle sounded prettily over woods and dells and river, shortly after two, and on finishing their hurried breakfast the force fell in.
Very proud indeed was Creggan to be allowed to go along with it, armed not only with a good cutlass, instead of the almost useless dirk, but with a revolver.
This was indeed a forced march, for before four o'clock next day they had got within twelve miles of the dismal city, with only one halt to partake of food, although much wood had to be cut down. They immediately hewed trees and bushes and went into laager, expecting an attack at any moment. When as safe as could be, fires were lit and supper cooked. Under other circumstances they would have remained silent and in the dark, but the commanding officer well knew that long before this time the blood-stained king would have heard of their advance. So, no attempt at concealment was necessary.
But the men were tired, so soon after supper fires were banked, and in an hour's time there was hardly a sound to be heard in the laager.
Dr. Grant and Creggan were the last to stretch themselves on their pallets of grass. Grant in his own wild Highland home had been used to roughing it, and Creggan, as we know, led a very active life on the Island of Wings. So neither felt tired.
The night was balmy with the odour of many gorgeous wild flowers, and it was even cool. The moon shone like a disc of gold, high up near the zenith, dimming even the effulgence of the brightest stars, and casting a strange, dreamy, phosphorescent light over the shapeless masses of cloud-like trees, and a brighter glimmer on the tall feathery cocoa-nut palms. Now and then away in the woods, there arose the mournful cry of some bird of prey, a cry that would make the marvellously beautiful king-fishers crouch lower to the perches on which they sat, and thrill their hearts with terror.
Now and then a fleecy, snow-white cloudlet would sail gently over the moon's disc, making the light scenery momentarily dimmer, but soon all was brightness once more. From an adjacent creek at times would come the sound of a heavy plunge, but whether from ghastly crocodile or hippopotamus they could not tell.
"It is indeed a goodly night," said Grant.
"Oh, it is heavenly!" cried Creggan; "but will we all be alive this time to-morrow?"
"Who can tell, my lad? No one dies till his day comes.
"But," he added with some hesitation, "you're not afraid, are you?"
"Oh, no indeed, doctor; just a little anxious, that is all. This will be my first fight, you know. But I am seventeen now—"
"Yes, and hard and strong, Creggan."
"So, doctor, if I get a chance to hit a nigger, I mean to hit him just as hard as I know how to."
"Very good. So shall I; but let me give you a word of good advice, because I'm older than you. Don't get carried away by excitement. He fights best who fights as calmly as possible. Keep to the fighting line or square, as the case may be, and you'll do well.
"And now I think I'll turn in, and may God in his mercy preserve us both to-morrow, and our Captain Flint as well."
"Amen!" said Creggan.
* * * * * * * * * * *
In less than half an hour after this Creggan was fast asleep, and dreaming that he was bounding over the smooth waves of the blue Minch in his skiff, with poor honest Oscar in the bows, and bonnie wee fair-haired Matty in the stern-sheets all smiles and dimples, her eyes twinkling with fun and merriment.
The dream seemed a very short one.
"Surely," he said, when the bugle sounded, "I cannot have slept an hour."
Yet it was already half-past one, and the moon had westered and was slowly sinking towards the horizon.
Before two breakfast was finished, a ration of rum served out, and the march resumed.
They must walk silently now.
The road was better, so that under the light of the stars only, for the moon had sunk, they had reached the wide straggling city by five o'clock.
Here the forces separated, the marines and blue-jackets lying in wait in a piece of jungle in the east; the soldiers making a silent detour to the back of the city, where was a dense primeval forest.
The guns were a long way behind, but just as the sun was tipping the glorious clouds of palms with its crimson rays, they were dragged in.
The sound of one gun and a bursting shell was to give notice to the soldiers hidden in the forest that the battle had indeed begun.
Just as the sun cast his bright beams across the darkling forest a buzz of awakening life began to arise from the city.
A spy had informed the naval commander where the king's forces, to the number of five thousand at least, were concentrated.
He now pointed out the very spot, a kind of fort and eminence in the centre of the town, and not far from the awful blood-stained palace.
"Now, gunner," cried Captain Flint cheerily, "give us the best shot ever you fired in your life."
"I'll do my level best," was the reply.
There was no quaver in the man's voice, no quiver in his hand.
The gun rang out in the morning air, echoed and re-echoed from forest and brae, and the shell was planted right in the centre of that heathen fort, bursting, and evidently doing tremendous damage. The battle had begun.
There is nothing that African savages dread more than shells and war-rockets, and Arabs themselves are equally demoralized by these dread missiles.
They care but little—I am talking from my own experience—for ordinary round shot, if they are any distance off, in their dhows. From the cruiser's black side they can see arise a white cloud of smoke, with a spiteful tongue of fire in the centre; in a few seconds they hear the roar of the gun, and see the shot itself.
Well, they but utter a word of prayer to Allah, and ten to one the shot goes hurtling past high overhead, or it doesn't reach, but goes ricochetting past, half a mile astern perhaps, taking leaps of fifty yards at a time, throwing a cloud of foam up from every wave it strikes, till at last it sinks down to the slime of the fathomless sea.
If a cannon ball comes near enough to dash the sea-spray inboard, the Arab captain curses the British as heartily as he prays for himself, though he keeps cracking on.
But the shells, ah! the shells, that hiss and hurtle and fly into splinters in the air above the dhow, scattering death and destruction along its decks and poop; they will not yield to prayer, and I never yet saw an Arab captain who would or could stand the brunt of three or four well-aimed ones.
If one of these shells hit a mast, even if you are unwounded, the fall of that spar is something terrorizing to look upon, with its tangled rigging as well.
It does not come down quickly; it quivers and reels uncertainly for a time, while you gaze upwards and probably utter involuntarily a helpless moan.
It is coming down on you, and how can you escape death? More quickly, more and more quickly now, it descends. Then there is a crash, smashed bulwarks, and splinters flying in all directions. But, you are safe after all!
Captain Flint and his men had a good supply of shells, and it was lucky that the guns got up in time and were not damaged, for during the march there had been many small streams to cross, in which it was difficult at times to find a ford.
What wild yelling and shouting comes from the city now! Were it a large, compact town, with high houses and towers, Flint would shell it. But it were a pity to expend a shell in knocking a few grass huts to pieces, and scaring, killing, or wounding, perhaps, only helpless women and children.
"Just one other startler, sir,—shall I?"
The tall, dark young gunner was as good a shot as ever drew lanyard, and he told a messmate before he addressed the commander that he was spoiling for a shot or two that would astonish the weak nerves of the niggers.
"Well, Mr. Gill," said Flint smiling, "just one other; but I want to spare the ammunition till we see the foe."
"Br—br—brang!" went the gun a few seconds after, and the great shell went shrieking away on its mission of death.
Louder yelling than before followed the bursting of this shell.
Still the enemy did not appear.
Some men would have stormed the town, and attempted after a rifle volley or two to take it at the bayonet's point.
But this Ju-Ju king, with his naked feet caked with the blood of the victims that he had walked among, had a force of fiendish soldiers at least ten times greater in number than Flint's sailors and the soldiers behind. With these the king over-awed the the neighbouring states, and carried fire and spear and sword into their midst if they owned not his superiority and greatness.
Two hours passed away and still they did not show face, though the blue-jackets were stamping on the ground, and itching to get at them. Waiting for a tight makes the bravest sailor or soldier nervous.
The cause of the delay was that Benin, being completely under the dominion of a set of bloodthirsty scoundrels of priests, there were fetishes or oracles to be consulted, and all kinds of mumbo-jumbo business to be gone through, before the Ju-Ju king's army could come forth. Oh, as for the king himself, his person was far too sacred to risk. The priests told him so, and he was by no means loath to believe it. Besides, he was so covered with beads from chin to ankle, that he had some difficulty in walking much.
Far better to stay in his harem, and listen to the yelling of his soldiers, the rattling of the musketry, and roar of the guns, until, as the priests assured him would be the case, the British prisoners—all that were not slain—should be brought in.
Ah! then, he said to himself, the fun would begin. He would roast some alive. "Man meat", as these cannibals call human flesh, which, by the way, is sold openly in the market-place, is ever so much more tender and juicy when cooked alive. Well, the king made up his mind to roast a few; he would torture and crucify others on trees, with widely-extended arms and legs, and wooden pegs nailed through the flesh of feet, legs, and arms to hold them up. Others, again, he would tie to stakes, where he could see them starve to death in the broiling sunshine, half-eaten alive at night by loathsome beetles and other fearful insects. All the rest he would either behead, or hand over to the women to be tied down and slowly disembowelled alive!
That was the programme.
And now it was to be carried out. So the king believed. The British tars and marines were well stationed on slightly rising ground, half-sheltered by straggling bush, and were all ready when the enemy appeared in his thousands.
Mercy on us, how they yelled, and waved aloft shield and spear or guns, as they came on like a black and awful avalanche!
They fired first, and a few of our fellows fell, but only wounded.
"Reserve your fire, lads, till they get nearer!" cried Flint, for the blood of the sailors was getting hot.
Still on came that yelling avalanche. The sailors could see their red mouths, flashing teeth, and fearful eyes, when the captain shouted:
"Aim low, lads. Fire!"
That was a splendid volley!
Its effects were startling. The enemy was packed together, and some of the British bullets must have killed or wounded two at a time. It was followed up by others quite as good, and the dark skins, kicking and squirming like wounded rats, blackened the ground as their comrades sprang past or over them.
Nor did the hissing, spluttering war-rockets, tearing through their centre, repel their determined advance.
It seemed for a time that win the battle they must, by mere force of numbers.
Their terrible yelling now increased. All savages make these sounds, which they believe paralyses the enemy. Our brave Jacks and Joes, however, don't paralyse worth a groat. They were now formed into squares for a time, which the Ju-Ju's devils could not break.
Revolvers did lovely work!
Again and again the black savages advanced, only to be hurled back.
Then they threw their spears.
This was nasty, and wounded many of the man-o'-war's men.
"Fix bayonets!" cried Flint.
The bayonets were really cutlasses, and our fellows know how to use them too.
"Charge!"
How our men cheered, as they dashed on to the work of death! A true British cheer. The king heard it and trembled.
For a time it was a hand-to-hand tussle. But look yonder, in a more open space the captain himself has fallen, and three armed savages are on him instantly; two have spears—one is about to dash Flint's brains out with the butt-end of a beggarly Brummagen gun, when in the nick of time Creggan, who is near at hand, fires, and the fellow, with arms aloft, falls dead. Then, cutlass in hand, our hero rushes at the other two, as did the wild cat at his neck on that starlit night long ago, when he was returning home with dear Matty by his side. He has cut one across the neck with terrible effect, but the very strength and impulse of the blow, somehow, makes poor Creggan stumble and fall.
Next moment savage No. 3 has a spear very near to his chest indeed.
Yes; but the captain has now sprung up,—he was merely stunned,—the spear is splintered with the first blow, the second cleaves the savage's skull through to the eyes.
"God bless you, boy," cried Flint, "for your timely aid! I'll not forget it."
And blood-dripping hands are shaken there and then.
But how goes the battle?
Ah! right bravely. You can tell that by the royal cheers of Jack and Joe.
The foe reels backwards, wavers, flies. No use for blue-jacket or marine to follow. These fiends run swift as deer!
But shells and war-rockets do dread work now, and sadly thin the ranks of those shrieking fiends.
Nor is it all over yet. For look, right in front of the defeated and fleeing army there suddenly springs, as if from the earth itself, a thin red line of British soldiers.
Rip—rip—rip go the crackling rifles all along this line. As pretty platoon firing as one could wish to see or hear.
And the effect is deadly. The black army bids fair to be wiped out. They attempt to fly to the right—to the left. But Flint has divided his little army and outflanks them on both sides. Then, cowed and appalled, those among them who are still intact throw away their arms, throw themselves on the ground, throw themselves even across the bleeding bodies of the slain, and shriek aloud for mercy. Mercy? It is never refused by British soldiers to beseeching foemen.
The carnage has been dreadful, but silence reigns now, except for the pitiful moaning of the wounded. No sound of rifle, no slash of cutlass, or hiss of flying spear!
A blue sky above, and bright sunshine, in which the woods around seem to swelter and steam. The blue above—the blood below!
Yes, readers, war may be glorious, but it is after the battle has ceased to rage that one sees Bellona[1] in all her dreadful deshabille, her blood-stained arms, her soaking hair, and cruel and fiercely flaming eyes. May heaven in its mercy keep war and famine far away from our own sweet island home!
[1] The goddess of war.
* * * * * * * * * * *
The arms were now taken from the prisoners, and they were left huddled together like an immense herd of seals, for all were lying down exhausted. Only fifty men were left to keep them together. The main little army then marched into the city.
Will it be believed that women and children rushed to meet our heroes, kneeling in the dust and weeping, embracing our blue-jackets' knees, till more than one tar was heard to remark: "I'm blessed, Bill" (or Jim as the case might be), "I'm blessed if I don't feel like blubbering my blooming self."
For the British sailor, though the bravest of the brave in battle, has ever a tender heart to a child or woman.
But there was one particular cry that rang all through this poor forlorn mob. When translated it was found to mean:
"Kill the devil—Oh, kill the devil-king!"
The awful odour of this blood-stained city cannot be described. Nor can the sights that were seen in the market-place and around the palace. The skulls set on sticks, the skeletons, the putrid bodies; the crucified men still rotting on the trees, their heads fallen down till the chins touched the breast-bone; the "man-meat" in joints left on the now deserted stalls, the joints not unlike those of black pig. But the most disgusting sight of all, perhaps, was to see naked black children squatting on the murdered dead or drumming on their chests with the bones of the skeletons. And there was, as Burns says, in his inimitable Tam o' Shanter,
"Mair o' horrible and awfu',
Which ev'n to name wad be unlawfu'".
What a surprise his sable Majesty got when our blue-jackets, to the number of twenty, stormed his harem!
He had expected his own warriors, with British heads to set on poles, with British joints to roast for dinner, and British men to torture and burn.
Tom Sinclair, of the Rattler, a beau-ideal seaman, led the rest. His white "bags", as he called them, were red and brown with blood, and his shirt besprinkled too. But his sun-tanned face looked as jolly as if he had only just come from a ball instead of a field of carnage.
"Yambo sana!" (a Swahili salute).
"Yambo sana!" he said to the king, who was stretched on a raised, mat-covered couch. "W'y, what a luxurious old cockalorum you are, to be sure!"
Tom hitched up his trousers as he spoke, and looked pleasant.
But like fire from flint the Ju-Ju king sprang up, and attempted to knife poor Tom. And Tom with a single twist disarmed him, and next moment the king in his beads was lying on his back, the blood flowing from his nasal organ.
Tom was as calm as a judge.
"'Xcuse me, old chap," he said, "for making your morsel of a nose bleed. Would have preferred giving ye a pair of black eyes, only they wouldn't show like, your skin's so dark.
"Seems to me," he added, "yer soul's as black as yer blooming skin. Wouldn't I like to trice yer Majesty up and give ye four dozen.
"Here, interpreter," continued this tormenting Tom, "'terpret wot I says to this ere himage o' Satan. Are ye ready?"
"Tell him that we've wiped out his sodgers, and ask if he could oblige us by turning out a new army. We were only just a-settlin' down to serious fightin' when the beggars bolted.
"Told him?"
"Yes, sah. And now he groan and shake his big head plenty mooch, for true!"
"Tell him not to be afeard, that we won't scupper him (kill him) for a day or two, but that we means only to put a hook through his nose and 'ang him to a branch. Have you got a grip o' that, 'terpreter?"
"Yes, sah. And see, he shake his big head once more. Hoo, hoo! How he make me laugh!"
"Tell him that we may also build a fire under him just to keep his toes warm, 'cause it would be a terrible thing if a monarch like he was to catch his death o' cold."
The interpreter had barely finished telling the trembling king all this, when a stir in the after part of the room announced the arrival of the commanding officer, Fraser, and Captain Flint.
The sailors fixed bayonets, and drew silently up.
Then Colonel Fraser, through the interpreter, sternly ordered the king to stand up, and just as sternly addressed him. Pointing out to the assassin the enormity of all his fearful crimes, and what his punishment might be, if he, the commanding officer, cared to go to extremes. He told him much else that need not be mentioned here. But the palaver thus begun did not end for days.
The soldiers and sailors meanwhile commanded a large body of niggers to go everywhere over the town and bury every human carcase, and even every bone. The market stalls were heaped around the crucifixion trees and fired. The trees themselves burned fiercely.
The king's special murder-yard was also seen to. Then a grass and bamboo house was run up for the king in a different part of the town. To this he was escorted, laughed at and jeered by women and children, while his old blood-stained palace and everything in it was burned to the ground. Many of the adjoining huts caught fire, but the conflagration, though at night it looked very alarming, did not extend far, and was soon got under by the natives themselves throwing earth over it.
* * * * * * * * * * *
In another week's time the brave little army was once more on the march back to the river at Sapelé.
But the king had almost emptied his treasures of gold-dust to pay the demanded indemnity; he agreed also to send to New Benin much ivory, copal, nutmegs, and spices and palm-oil. A treaty was signed (it has not been kept, by the way) which bound his Majesty down to discontinue the awful human sacrifices, and to rule his subjects peacefully, on pain of another invasion by British forces, who next time, the commanding officer informed him, would hang him on the nearest tree and annex his country.
Just before the sailors and soldiers commenced their march to the river a strange and curious thing occurred.
There came emissaries from the hill tribes of the Wild West seeking an interview with Colonel Fraser.
The men, who were as wild-looking as any savages ever seen, and armed with spears and strong shields, looked nevertheless far from unpleasant.
The colonel was found after a little delay, and then the interpreter.
The first thing these strange men did was to lay their spears and their shields at the colonel's feet, then they grovelled, head down, in the dust, which, as they muttered some strange words, they mingled with their bushy heads of hair.
"Tell them to rise," said Colonel Fraser. "I cannot spare long time in ceremony."
The savage emissaries arose at once and stood before him.
"What can I do for you, my men?" said the commandant.
Their answer was so voluble that even the interpreter could not for a time understand it.
I believe, reader, that human nature is pretty much the same all the world over. The motto, "Don't sit on a man when he is down", is strictly adhered to, only the word "don't" is always deleted. And when a man is down, physically, morally, or financially, people, even old "friends", do sit on him, just as a cabby sits on his fallen horse's head to keep him down.
There is hardly any such thing as extending a kindly hand to a fallen man to help him up again, or even giving him a word of encouragement which might save his life itself. He is simply ostracized.
But in very truth there was considerable excuse for those hillmen from the Wild West. That blood-stained Ju-Ju king had ruled them with a rod of steel, ravaged their country, killed the men who could not escape, and carried off their women and children.
And now their time had come. The trampled worm had turned, and their proposal was simplicity in itself. It may best be expressed in the interpreter's own words.
"Dese gentlemans," he began, as he pointed to the niggers, and Creggan and some other officers smiled aloud; "dese gentlemans come from de far-away mountain. Plenty cold sometimes up dere. Dey want to bringee down five, ten tousand warrior to help we. Dey kill all, all dey men-men, take away de women-men and de little chillen. All de men-men dey eat plenty quick, and dey will nail de debil-king to a tree, all spread out, and roast he alive, for true. De king, when all nice and plopah, dey give to you to gobble up."
Colonel Fraser had a hearty laugh over this, then he made a short speech, in which he said he did not see his way at present to accede to their request, but if they would promise not to attack the king till he, Colonel Fraser, returned to punish him again, he would accept their proposal, but was not quite certain that he would eat the king, even if he were done to a turn.
Then with his own hands he returned to them their spears and shields, and, bowing and salaaming, thanked them.
Those emissaries of a poor oppressed race went back to their mountains rejoicing, and the march to the river was at once commenced.
They carried the wounded and even the dead in hammocks. Had they buried the latter anywhere near Benin they would, Colonel Fraser thought, be speedily disinterred and eaten.
In the woods, ten miles from the City of Blood, they buried their fallen comrades, after Colonel Fraser himself had said a prayer—not a printed one, but an earnest prayer from his honest, kindly heart.
Many a tear trickled down the cheeks of the blue-jackets and marines as comrade after comrade was laid side by side in the deeply-dug trench, while such expressions as the following were heard on every side:
"Good-bye, Bill, we'll never see you more!"
"Ah, Joe, you and I 'as spent many a 'appy day together. Farewell, old man, farewell!"
"Jim, if I thought a pipe 'ud comfort ye, I'd put all my 'baccy beside ye in the grave. Blest if I wouldn't, messmates!"
Rough but kindly words, and not without a certain degree of pathos.
* * * * * * * * * * *
There was no need to hurry back; so, after crossing a creek about ten miles from the river they bivouacked at Siri, a wretched village, for the night. But the inhabitants had heard of the battle, and the downfall of the assassin king, and brought them presents of fruit and cassava, besides nutmegs and spices, for all of which they were substantially thanked with gifts of coloured beads, which made the sable ladies chuckle and coo with delight.
Next day the expedition reached the river and crossed to Sapelé, and soon after the sailors reached their ship.
But they had not quite done with Benin yet. The wounded soldiers had been safely seen to at Sapelé, but the colonel and a Lieutenant Aswood boarded the Rattler to dine with Flint and his officers, and considering everything, a very jolly evening was spent. The doctor had reported that the wounded would all do well, so Commander Flint gave a dinner-party, and orders to splice the main brace, from the gun-room aft right away forward to the cook's galley.
There was jollity, therefore, forward. Yarns were told, songs were sung, and every now and then the sweet music of guitar and fiddle floated aft.
It was for all the world like an old-fashioned Saturday-night at sea.
And those in the saloon or commander's cabin, including the soldiers, the ship's doctor, first lieutenant, and Creggan, felt very happy indeed. The chief talk naturally centred on the recent fight, and the terrible condition of the City of Blood.
"Now, Flint, as far as niggers go I'm not a bad prophet." This from the colonel. "And I'll tell you what will happen."
"Well, Fraser," said Flint, "heave round and give us your ideas."
"Well, then, I'm half-sorry now that I didn't hang that blood-drunkard of a king to begin with. But the king that the priests would have then placed on the stool called a throne might have been quite as bad, if not worse."
"True, Fraser, true."
"Do you think he will be influenced by that treaty?"
"About a week, perhaps."
"Just so."
"On the other hand," said the colonel, "I am half-sorry I didn't allow the mountain-men to wipe the savages out.
"But," he continued, "that Ju-Ju monarch is no more to be restrained from sacrificing his subjects than a cat could be from catching sparrows. Now he'll go on till he gets hold of some whites and massacres these. Then there will be another war. If we do not kill the king, he'll be sent down to the coast and imprisoned for life."
"I follow you," said Flint. "What next?"
"Oh, annexation of course, and the whole of this rich and lovely country will become ours.
"What do you think of its healthiness?" he added, turning to Dr. Grant.
"Give a dog a bad name," replied Grant, "and you may kill him as soon as you like. When we annex this land of Benin, the niggers under our kindly sway—and they swarm in millions, you know—will till it and drain it for us; cut down useless jungles, fell valuable timber, which will help to dry up the creeks and bogs. All unhealthiness will then vanish, sir, like the morning mist from the mountain tops; land will be cheap and good, and colonists will come from Scotland by the shipload. As for sickness, we shall have splendid sanatoriums far away among those lofty mountains, where the climate must be temperate, and even bracing."
"Capital, Dr. Grant! Capital! Just my own ideas," said the colonel, "only expressed in far prettier language than any I could use. And now, Flint, what say you to stay for a week here, while we explore the country as Moses did the Holy Land?"
"Oh, Colonel Fraser," cried Creggan laughing, "it wasn't Moses, but Caleb and Joshua. Poor Moses only had a bird's-eye view of it from a hill-head, you remember."
"Quite right, boy, and thank you. Well, Flint, suppose you and I on this occasion go and spy out the land, which must eventually be ours, you know."
"Good!" said the commander. "We shall go in peace, and with peace-offerings for the people."
"Beads and bonnie things," said Grant, with a broad Scotch smile.
"That's it, doctor," said the colonel. "Beads and bonnie things. But an escort as well, eh?"
"Yes, fifty marines and blue-jackets."
"And start to-morrow?"
"Capital!"
"And now, Grant, I know you sing and play. Yonder is the piano; sit down and delight us."
Grant required no second bidding.
After a most charming prelude he said smiling:
"I'm going to sing you songs of the triune nation—Scotland, England, and Ireland."
And so he did.
After a beautiful, sad, and plaintive Scotch song, he rattled off into a strathspey and reel. After singing "Good-bye, Sweetheart, Good-bye", he played a waltz, and on concluding "The Harp that once through Tara's Halls", he dashed off into such a soul-inspiring, maddening, droll old jig, that everybody all round the table clapped their hands and shouted "Encore!"
Well, on the whole, the evening passed away most delightfully, but by eight bells or the end of the first watch, all on board save those on duty were sound asleep in hammock or cot.
The exploration of the country was commenced next day. Tents were not taken, but tins of potted meats, and potted vegetables. They would sleep beneath the stars in open ground. Rum was also taken, but it was mixed with quinine.
The explorers were fifty-and-six all told, including Creggan and Dr. Grant. Creggan, being a mountaineer, proved himself invaluable. He was so light to run, too, and went on ahead here, there, and everywhere, even shinning up trees to find out the best roads.
The people they encountered were none too gentle. They even looked askance at the presents. So Colonel Fraser decided not to make use of any as guides, for fear of being led into an ambush.
When they came at last to—altering Scott somewhat—a
Land of green heath and shaggy wood,
Land of mountain and of flood,
the forests grew denser, darker, and deeper. The roar of wild beasts, too, was heard by day as well as by night, so that caution had to be used. And here were many lakes, though there were streams instead of creeks. And these lakes were literally alive with fish.
"Beautiful! Beautiful! What a happy hunting-ground!" exclaimed Fraser, as two strange deer went past like the wind.
"It is indeed a land flowing with milk and honey," said the doctor.
"And all to be ours. All to be British!"
They passed the forests safely enough, and now got fairly into the mountain-land. Here were glens, as bonnie and bosky as any in Scotland. They entered one particularly beautiful dell.
They had paused to admire and wonder, when the distant sound of war-drums or tom-toms fell upon their ears, and presently a huge band of savage warriors appeared, as if by magic, on the opposite brae. So suddenly did they spring up, that the brave lines of the poet came back with a rush to Creggan's mind. Yonder, of course, were no waving tartans or plumes. Yet that dark army rose from the bush in the same startling way. It is in Roderick Dhu's interview with the Saxon Fitz-James on the Highland hills. Roderick cries:
"'Have, then, thy wish!' He whistled shrill
And he was answered from the hill;
Wild as the scream of the curlew,
From crag to crag the signal flew.
Instant, through copse and heath, arose
Bonnets and spears and bended bows;
On right, on left, above, below,
Sprang up at once the lurking foe;
From shingles gray their lances start,
The bracken bush sends forth the dart;
The rushes and the willow-wand
Are bristling into axe and brand,
And every tuft of broom gives life
To plaided warrior armed for strife.
That whistle garrisoned the glen
At once with full five hundred men,
As if the yawning hill, to heaven
A subterranean host had given."
"Why," said Colonel Fraser, pointing to the hillside, "just look yonder, Flint. We don't want to fight these poor hill-men. They are doubtless the same from whom the emissaries came."
"Well, anyhow," said Flint, "they look as vicious as vipers. Let us send our interpreter over at once. He will explain things."
"Good!"
So this was done.
But it was evident that the hill-men were not open to reason, for the poor fellow was immediately seized and bound.
"Now," cried the colonel, "we must and shall advance. If there were twice five hundred we should not submit to that indignity."
So the little brave band proceeded at once to descend the hill and ford the stream. Bayonets were fixed, and all were climbing slowly up the steep brae on the other side, but a long way to the right, in order to get higher than the threatening savages and thus have all the advantage, when wild whooping and yells arose above them.
They could not understand this, until down rushed the guide and interpreter—a free man.
"All right, sah, all right! De men who come to Benin, dey am dere now, and all de oder sabages am plopah fliends now.
"Come on! Come on!" he added.
And on they went.
They were received by the hill-men with shouts of joy, and one tall, very black savage, much ornamented with feathers and beads, insisted on taking Colonel Fraser's hand, and bending low over it touched it with his brow. He repeated the same ceremony with all the officers, then waved his dark hand in quite a dignified way to the blue-jackets and marines.
Strange to say, he could even talk a little English.
"I am please, I am mooch delight," he said. "At Gwato I meet plenty goot trader, ah! and plenty vely bad. Ha, ha!"
The officers laughed.
"Well, chief, we have thrashed the cruel king of Benin, and now we want to see your dear mountain-land, because one day we shall kill the Ju-Ju king, and then the kind-hearted Great White Queen shall reign over you, and you will be all very happy."
"I guide you, I guide! Be delight,—plenty mooch delight!"
So, high up into the mountains marched the sailor-band, with the chief and twenty savages as guides.
It was getting late now, but before sunset they arrived at a mountain village, the huts of which seemed to be perched upon the shelves of the rock, like eagles' eyries.
They found the village clean and sweet.
The chief took the officers into the largest hut, which he had caused to be rebedded with withered ferns, while the couches all round were made of beautiful heaths, intermingled with wild flowers.
Then Creggan and the gunner went out to see to the men's supper, and found them all contented and jolly.
When he returned, lo! a banquet of fried fish, sweet potatoes, roast yams, capsicums, and fruit of many kinds, was spread on boards or pieces of bark before his shipmates.
"Take seat, take seat!" cried the chief, "and eatee plenty mooch foh true!"
"Why," said Creggan, as he squatted on the ferns, "this is indeed a land flowing with milk and honey."
It was, and behind each officer kneeled a little girl with a palm-leaf fan to keep the guests cool.
A modicum of rum was served out, and the chief, Gabo, was asked to drink.
He drew back in horror.
"No, soldiers, no!" he cried. "Dat am de debil foh true. Sometime we hab plenty from the oil-traders at Gwato. Den we all go mad, and mooch kill eberybody. Now we nebber look at he."
A band of girls came in afterwards, and danced while they sang. A strange wild dance it was, with many wonderful swayings of arms and bodies.
An hour after this the British were sleeping soundly.
All hands were called just a little before sunrise, and what a gorgeous sight they beheld! Only a Turner could have done justice to that sky of orange gray and gold, and to the splendid landscape of forest and water that lay between. Lake on lake, stream or creek everywhere, and the purple mist of distance over all, save where a lake caught the crimson glare of the sun and was turned into blood.
And down beneath them the nearest braes were clad in a wealth of wild heaths and geraniums, and many a charming flower hugging the barer patches. The officers were silent as they gazed on all this loveliness.
"No beauty such as this," said Grant at last, "can be seen even in Scotland."
But every bush seemed to be alive with bird-song, every leaf appeared to hide some feathered songster; and when any of these flitted from tree to tree, it was found that they were quite as beautiful in colour as the flowers themselves.
The air, too, was cool and delightful.
Creggan and Grant went for a little walk farther up the hill, where they found a great basin of rock filled with clear limpid water, and here they bathed, so that the appetite both had for the excellent breakfast, roast wild game, birds, and mountain trout, with, as before, yams and sweet potatoes, was quite striking—striking down, I may say.
They all went hunting that day. But up in the hills there were few wild animals of any sort, yet they enjoyed the tramp nevertheless.
They stayed with this wild tribe for over a week, and every day brought them something fresh in adventure or pleasure.
Colonel Fraser made sketches, and took many observations of this beautiful land of wild bird, tree, flower, and fruit, which at no distant date will become the possession of the enterprising British colonist, and give riches to men now starving perhaps in the overcrowded cities of our island home.
Soon may this day come!
There is nothing impossible in Africa.
But the scene changes, and will change still more as this story runs on.
Our heroes are back once more in the Rattler, that only last night bumped out over the bar, and is now lying alongside the Centiped.
Colonel Fraser, of course, has returned to his own barracks, and the officers of the expedition, including Creggan, are at dinner on board the larger ship, telling and talking of all their wild adventures.
"Now, gentlemen," said the captain, "I have news for you, which I would not tell you before, lest it should spoil your appetites."
They all waited to hear it.
"The Wasp, outward bound for the slave-coast of Eastern Africa, lay-to here three days ago and sent a boat with letters for you all."
"How delightful!" cried Creggan excitedly.
"And, Captain Flint,—the Rattler is ordered home."
"Hurrah!" cried Grant, and there was a general clapping of hands all round the table, and I'm not sure but that Creggan's eyes filled with tears. He was little more than a boy, remember.
Well, the sackful of letters was duly put in the Rattler's boat when she was hauled up, and that night everybody on board that saucy gun-boat got good news—or bad.
Creggan had quite a bunch of letters, which he read in the gun-room, and again by daylight next day.
That old song keeps running through my head as I write—
"Good news from home, good news for me,
Has come across the dark blue sea,
From friends that I had left in tears,
From friends I have not seen for years.
"And since we parted long ago,
My life has been a scene of woe;
But now a joyful hour has come,
For I have got good news from home."
The second line of the second verse is, however, hardly correct as far Creggan was concerned. On the whole he had passed his time very pleasantly indeed, with some little griefs, of course. Many a storm had the Rattler weathered, and many a strange sight had he seen.
He would be entitled to a good long spell of leave when the gun-boat was paid off, and what tales he would have to tell the old hermit (his Daddy) and Archie, and last, though not least, dear wee Matty! But stay, she would be eleven years old, for Creggan was eighteen or almost.
But here were the letters from home, one each, and long ones too, from Daddy, Mr. M'Ian, Rory and Maggie, Nugent and Matty.
He kept the latter to the last. What a dear, innocent little epistle it was, and though no praise could be given to the caligraphy, which was a trifle scrawly, childish, innocent love breathed from every line.
* * * * * * * * * * *
It was a bright and beautiful morning when the Rattler weighed anchor, left the Bight of Benin, and steered west and away, homeward bound for Merrie England.
As the gun-boat passed the Centiped, which would now take her place on this station, there was many a shout of "bon voyage" from the quarter-deck; the rigging was crowded with sailors like bees on a bush, and after three cheers were given, the little band of the Centiped struck up Home, Sweet Home.
The notes came quavering sweetly, sadly over the water, but soon they died away, and in an hour's time the ship they had left behind them could hardly be seen against the greenery of the trees that lined the Afric foreshore.
They made a good run that day, and when, after the ward-room dinner and gun-room supper, Grant and Creggan met upon the quarter-deck, steam had been turned off and the fires banked, for there was just enough wind to send the Rattler on. She ran before it, for it blew off the land, with stunsails set alow and aloft.
It was a delightful night, though not bright, but the clouds that covered the sky were very high and gauzy. They had many a rift of blue, however, and whenever she had a chance while the clouds went scudding on, the moon shone down on the sea with a radiance brighter than diamonds.
Now and then a shoal of playful dolphins would go leaping and dancing past. It was evident that they enjoyed the beauty of the night as well, if not better, than even Grant or Creggan could.
The Rattler's record till she reached the Bay of Biscay, which she skirted only, was really a good one for a ship of such small horse-power. Though an iron-clad, remember, she had sails and rigging as well as steam. But now the scene changed! The glass went down like falling over a cliff, banks of sugarloaf clouds rose one evening threateningly in the east, and it was evident to every seafarer on board that it was to be a dirty night. So sails were got in, and the ship made snug, while the engineer speedily got up steam.
Creggan was in the first mate's watch, and they had the middle watch to keep to-night.
A man had come down below to shake his hammock and call him. That hammock required a good deal of shaking before Creggan was thoroughly aroused. But he turned out at once.
"Better put on your oil-skins, sir," said the seaman.
"Is it blowing, then?"
"Hark, don't you hear it roar, sir? It's blowing real big guns, Dahlgrens and Armstrongs, all in a heap. Hurry up, sir! It's gone eight bells minutes ago."
Creggan was not long in getting on deck. He tied the flaps of his oil-skin over his ears and under his chin. A good thing, too, for the wind was wild enough to have torn one's hair off. Creggan could scarcely stand or stagger against it. Nor could the gun-boat make much headway either. Hardly, perhaps, a knot an hour.
The lad got aft to look at the compass. Yes, her head was north and a trifle westerly. She was boldly holding her course at all events.
It was very dark indeed, for all round the vessel the horizon was close on board of her, and the inky clouds must have been miles deep. The ship's masts seemed to cut through them when high on the top of a storm-tormented wave, and when down in the deep trough between two seas these waves thundered over the bows and came rushing aft in white foam, a rolling cataract, which, had the ship not been battened down, would have flooded the engine-room and probably drowned out the fires.
Creggan was perfectly alive to the extreme danger, for if the ship from any accident broached to, in all probability she would turn turtle and be heard of nevermore, until the sea gave up its dead.
Yet Creggan managed to get forward a few yards to the spot where the first lieutenant stood clinging to a stay, and they managed to carry on a conversation for a while.
But a kind of drowsiness stole over both, and presently they became silent.
Creggan was awakened from his lethargy by the crashing of wood forward. A mighty wave had splintered the bulwarks, and for just about half a minute the vessel fell off her course.
It was found necessary to put an extra hand to the wheel.
The storm was now at its worst. Ever and anon the waves, more than houses high, made a clean breach over her, the spray dashing as high as the fore-top, and even down the funnel.
To add to the terror, peal after peal of thunder appeared to shake the ship to her very keel. Louder far than the roar of the savage waves was this thunder, and the lightning lit up the slippery decks, and showed the men crouching and shivering aft, their faces like the faces of the dead, while over the ocean it shot and glimmered till the sea itself looked an ocean of fire.
Indeed, indeed a dreadful night!
Neither the first lieutenant nor Creggan was sorry when they were relieved.
The former beckoned the lad into the ward-room. Then he produced the beef and "fixings", as he called bread, butter, and the cruets. Both were hungry, and between them they made the joint look small.
Then Creggan went off to his hammock, commending himself as he lay down to that God who can hold the sea in the hollow of His hand.
Four hours of sweetest dreamless slumber, and when our hero went on deck after breakfast, though the wind had gone down and gone round, the seas were still high and darkling blue.
But it was now a beam wind, so fires were banked, and she went dancing on her course, as if she well knew that after all her trials and buffetings she would soon be safe in Plymouth Sound.
* * * * * * * * * * *
The evening before the Rattler sighted the chalk-cliffs of Old England Creggan had kept the first watch, from eight to twelve, therefore he would have what sailors call "all night in". That is, he turned in at twelve, and did not have to leave his hammock till about half-past seven.
On board a ship in harbour, the time youngsters turn out is five bells. I slept in a hammock myself when I first joined, and I assure the reader I didn't like to be called at five bells, or half-past six; but the quartermaster was inexorable, he used to pass along the orlop deck, where all our hammocks hung, and strike each a dig with his thumb underneath.