Chapter Twenty One.
A Terrible Time
Never until the crack of doom might they hear such another report as that which now fell upon their ears. At almost the same moment, in a comminglement of smoke and fire, a huge dark object was seen to be carried high into the air, probably even a mile high. It then took a westerly direction, and came towards the Isle of Flowers, getting larger every second, till it descended into the sea, end on, and not two miles away. It was seen to be a gigantic rock, perhaps many, many acres in extent.
The waters now rose on every side, the noise was deafening; then in, landwards, sped a huge bore, breaker, or wave, call it what you please, but darkness almost enveloped it, and from this thunders roared and zigzag lightning flashed as it dashed onwards to the island shore. The men they had left behind had speedily climbed the rocks behind the camp, for although the wave did not reach so high, the spray itself would have suffocated them, had they not looked out for safety.
It was an awful moment. But the wave receded at last, and the sea was once more calm. Only a new island had been formed by the fall of the rock into the ocean’s coral depths, and for a time the thunder and lightning ceased. Not the volcanic eruptions, however. And but for the blaze and lurid light of these the enemy’s isle, as it was called, must have been in total darkness. Truly a terrible sight! But our heroes hurried on.
Just as they had expected, when they reached the Queen’s palace they found poor Miss Hall, and even little Matty – with all her innocent courage – in a state of great terror. The Queen alone was self-possessed. She had seen a volcanic eruption before. Ilda was lying on the couch with her arms round Matty’s waist Matty standing by her side. The child was now seven years of age, and could talk and think better. Reginald, after kissing Ilda’s brow, sat down beside them, and Matty clambered on his knee.
Meanwhile, the darkness had increased so much that the Queen called upon her dusky attendants to light the great oil lamp that swung from the roof. The Queen continued self-possessed, and tried to comfort her guests.
“It will soon be over,” she said. “I am assured of that. My experience is great.”
But Matty refused all consolation.
“I’se never been a very great sinner, has I?” she innocently asked Reginald, as she clung round his neck.
“Oh, no, darling,” he said; “you are too young to be much of a sinner.”
“You think God won’t be angry, and will take you and me and Ilda and Queen Bertha straight up to Heaven, clothes and all?”
“My child,” said Reginald, “what has put all this into your head?”
“Oh,” she answered, “because I know the Day of Judgment has come.”
Well, there was some excuse for the little innocent thinking so.
Without the thickest darkness reigned. Dickson and Hall went to the door, but did not venture out. Scoria was falling, and destroying all the shrubs and flowers in the beautiful valley. The river was mixed with boiling lava, and the noise therefrom was like a thousand engines blowing off steam at one and the same time. Surely never was such loud and terrible thunder heard before; and the lightning was so vivid and so incessant that not only did the island itself seem all ablaze, but even the distant sea. Crimson and blue fire appeared to lick its surface in all directions.
But the burning mountain itself was the most wondrous sight eyes of man could look upon. The smoke and steam rose and rolled amidst the play of lightning miles high apparently. The peak of the mountain itself shot up a continuous stream of orange-yellow flame, in which here and there small black spots could be seen – rocks and stones, without a doubt.
But the cone of the great hill itself was marvellously beautiful. For rivers of lava – Dickson counted nine in all – were rushing down its sides in a straight course, and these were streams of coloured fire, almost every one a different hue – deep crimson, green, and blue, and even orange.
Were it not for the terror of the sight, our heroes would have enjoyed it. Reginald carried Matty to the door to see the beauty of the burning mountain. She took one brief glance, then shudderingly held closer to Reginald’s neck.
“Take me back, take me back!” she cried in an agony of fear. “That is the bad place! Oh, when will God come and take us away?”
All that fearful day and all the following night scoria and ashes continued to fall, the thunder never ceased, and the lightning was still incessant. There was no chance now of getting back to camp, and they trembled to think of what might have taken place.
Towards morning, however, a wondrous change took place. The sky got clearer, a star or two shone through the rifts of heavy, overhanging clouds. The fire no longer rose from the mountain, only a thick balloon-shaped white cloud lay over it. Then the rain began to fall, and, strangely enough, mingled with the rain, which felt warm, were gigantic hailstones and pieces of ice as large as six-pound shells. Then up rose the glorious sun. Like a red ball of fire he certainly was; but oh, what a welcome sight!
That forenoon, all being now peace and quiet, Dickson and his comrades determined to march back to camp and ease their minds. After a long and toilsome journey over the hills, many of which were covered with ashes, they reached camp, and were glad to find the men alive, and the house intact. A rampart had been built around the barracks, as Hall called it, and inside was a large drill-yard.
Dickson served out rum to the men, and they soon were cheerful enough once more. The guns had been mounted on the walls, and all rifles were stowed away inside. This was at a suggestion from Hall.
“You never can trust those niggers,” he said quietly, shaking his head.
And well it was, as it turned out, that Dickson had taken Mr Hall’s advice.
That same afternoon, about two o’clock, the same savages who had fought with rifles from the bush against the invaders came hurriedly and somewhat excitedly into camp. The spokesman, a tall and splendid-looking native, gesticulated wildly, as he almost shouted in the officers’ ears:
“To-mollow molning dey come! All dis island rise! Dey come to kill and eat!”
The officers were astonished. What had they done to deserve so terrible a fate?
“Dey blame you for all. Oh, be plepared to fight. Gib us guns, and we too will fight plenty much. Foh true!”
A very uneasy night was passed, but the yard and guns had been cleared of cinders and scoria, the bulwarks strengthened, and before the sun once more shone red over the sea Dickson was prepared for either battle or siege. Everyone had been assigned his quarters.
The day was still, hot, and somewhat sultry. Luckily the little garrison was well provisioned, and the water would last a week or even longer. Low muttering thunders were still heard in the direction of the volcano, and sometimes the earth shook and trembled somewhat, but it was evident that the subterranean fires had burnt themselves out, and it might be a score of years before another eruption occurred.
It was evident that the savages did not think so. For as long as the cloud hung over the peak they did not consider themselves safe. About twelve o’clock that day distant shouts and cries were heard in the nearest glen, and presently an undisciplined mob of nearly a thousand howling savages, armed with bows and spears and broad black knives, appeared on the sands, in their war-paint. It was evidently their intention to storm the position, and determinedly too. They halted, however, and seemed to have a hasty consultation. Then a chief boldly advanced to the ramparts to hold a parley. His speech was a curious one, and he himself, dressed partly in skins and leaning on a spear like a weaver’s beam, was a strangely wild and romantic figure.
The officers appeared above the ramparts to look and to listen.
“Hear, O white men!” cried the savage chief, in fairly good English; “’tis you who brought dis evil on us. We now do starve. De rice and de fruit and de rats and most all wild beasts dey kill or hide demselves. In de sea all round de fish he die. We soon starve. But we not wish to fight. You and your men saved us from the foe that came in der big black war canoe. Den you try to teach us God and good. But we all same as before now. We must fight, eat and live, if you do not leave the island. Plenty big canoe take you off. Den de grass and trees and fruit will grow again, and we shall be happy and flee onct mo’.”
“An end to this!” cried Dickson angrily. “Fight as you please, and as soon as you please. But mind, you will have a devilish hot reception, and few of you will return to your glens to tell the tale. Away!”
As soon as the chief had returned and communicated to his men the result of the interview, they shrieked and shouted and danced like demons. They brandished their spears aloft and rattled them against their shields. Then, with one continuous maddened howl, they dashed onwards to scale the ramparts. “Blood! blood!” was their battle cry.
Well knowing that if once they got inside the little garrison would soon be butchered, Dickson immediately had both guns trained on them. He himself did so.
“Bang! bang!” they went, and the grape made fearful havoc in the close and serried ranks of the cannibals. The rifles kept up a withering fire. Again, and quickly too, the guns were loaded and run out, and just as the enemy had scaled the brae they were once more met by the terrible fire, and positively hewn down before it.
Not even savages could stand this. They became demoralised, and fled incontinently. And they soon disappeared, carrying many of their dead with them. Far along the beach went they, and as stakes were placed in the ground, large fires built around them, and one or more of the dead thrown on each, it was evident that they had made up their minds not to starve.
One of the blacks was now sent out from the fort to make a circuit round the hills, and then, mingling with the savages, to find out out what was their intention.
He returned in a few hours, and while the awful feast was still going on. A night attack was determined on, and they believed they would inherit strength and bravery by eating their dead comrades. That was the scout’s report.
Chapter Twenty Two.
More Fearful Fighting – Golden Gulch – “A Ship! A Ship!”
Forewarned is, or ought to be, forearmed. Nevertheless, it must be confessed that Dickson and the others greatly dreaded an attack by savages under cover of the moonless darkness of a tropical night. All was done that could be done to repel the fury of the onslaught. But come it must and would.
Just as the sun was sinking behind the western mountains, amidst lurid and threatening clouds, a happy thought occurred to one of the sailors.
“Sir,” he said to Dickson, “the darkness will be our greatest foe, will it not?”
“Certainly. If these demon cannibals would but show front in daylight we could easily disperse them, as we did before. Have you any plans, McGregor?”
“I’m only a humble sailor,” said McGregor, “but my advice is this. We can trust the honest blacks we have here within the fort?”
“Yes.”
“Well, let them throw up a bit of sand cover for themselves down here on the beach and by the sea. Each man should wear a bit of white cotton around his arm, that we may be able to distinguish friend from foe. Do you follow me, sir?”
“Good, McGregor. Go on.”
“Well, captain, the cannibals are certain to make direct for the barracks and attempt to scale as they did before. I will go in command of our twenty black soldiers, and just as you pour in your withering grape and rifle bullets we shall attack from the rear, or flank, rather, and thus I do not doubt we shall once more beat them off.”
“Good again, my lad; but remember we cannot aim in the darkness.”
“That can be provided against. We have plenty of tarry wood here, and we can cut down the still standing brush, and making two huge bonfires, deluge the whole with kerosene when we hear the beggars coming and near at hand. Thus shall you have light to fight.”
“McGregor, my lad, I think you have saved the fort and our lives. Get ready your men and proceed to duty. Or, stay. While they still are at their terrible feast and dancing round the fires, you may remain inside.”
“Thanks, sir, thanks.”
The men had supper at eleven o’clock and a modicum of rum each. The British sailor needs no Dutch courage on the day of battle.
The distant fires burnt on till midnight. Then, by means of his night-glass, Dickson could see the tall chieftain was mustering his men for the charge.
Half an hour later they came on with fiendish shouts and howling. Then brave McGregor and his men left the barracks and hid in the darkling to the left and low down on the sands.
The enemy advanced from the right. Their chief was evidently a poor soldier, or he would have caused them to steal as silently as panthers upon the fort. When within a hundred yards, Dickson at one side and Reginald at the other, each accompanied by a man carrying a keg of kerosene, issued forth at the back door.
In three minutes more the flames sprang up as if by magic. They leaped in great white tongues of fire up the rock sides, from which the rays were reflected, so that all round the camp was as bright as day.
The astonished savages, however, came on like a whirlwind, till within twenty yards of the brae on which stood the fort. Then Mr Hall, the brave and imperturbable Yankee, “gave them fits,” as he termed it. He trained a gun on them and fired it point-blank. The yells and awful howlings of rage and pain told how well the grape had done its deadly work, and that many had fallen never to rise again.
The tall, skin-clad chief now waved his spear aloft, and shouted to his men, pointing at the fort. That dark cloud was a mass of frenzied savages now. They leaped quickly over their dead and wounded, and rushed for the hill. But they were an easy mark, and once again both guns riddled their ranks. They would not be denied even yet.
But lo! while still but half-way up the hill, to their astonishment and general demoralisation, they were attacked by a terrible rifle fire from the flank. Again and again those rifles cracked, and at so close a range that the attacking party fell dead in twos and threes.
But not until two more shots were fired from the fort, not until the giant chief was seen to throw up his arms and fall dead in his tracks, did they hurriedly rush back helter-skelter, and seek safety in flight.
The black riflemen had no mercy on their brother-islanders. Their blood was up. So was McGregor’s, and they pursued the enemy, pouring in volley after volley until the darkness swallowed them up.
The slaughter had been immense. The camp was molested no more. But at daybreak it was observed that no cloud hung any longer on the volcanic peak. The savages were still grouped in hundreds around their now relighted fires, and it was evident a new feast was in preparation.
But something still more strange now happened. Accompanied by two gigantic spear-armed men of the guard, the Queen herself was seen to issue from the glen, and boldly approach the rebels. What she said may never be known. But, while her guard stood like two statues, she was seen to be haranguing the cannibals, sometimes striking her sceptre-pole against the hard white sand, sometimes pointing with it towards the volcanic mountain.
But see! another chief approaches her, and is apparently defying her. Next moment there is a little puff of white smoke, and the man falls, shot through the head.
And now the brave and romantic Queen nods to her guards, and with their spears far and near the fires are dispersed and put out.
This was all very interesting, as well as wonderful, to the onlookers at the fort, but when the Queen was seen approaching the little garrison, a little white flag waving from her pole, and followed by all the natives, astonishment was at its height.
Humbly enough they approached now, for the Queen in their eyes was a goddess. With a wave of her sceptre she stopped them under the brae, or hill, and Dickson and Reginald hurried down to meet her floral majesty.
“Had I only known sooner,” she said sympathisingly, “that my people had rebelled and attempted to murder you, I should have been here long, long before now. These, however, are but the black sheep of my island, and now at my command they have come to sue for pardon.”
“And they will lay down their arms?”
“Yes, every spear and bow and crease.”
“Then,” said Dickson, “let them go in single file and heap them on the still smouldering fire up yonder.”
Queen Bertha said something to them in their own language, and she was instantly obeyed. The fire so strangely replenished took heart and blazed up once more, and soon the arms were reduced to ashes, and the very knives bent or melted with the fierce heat.
“Go home now to your wives and children,” she cried imperiously. “For a time you shall remain in disgrace. But if you behave well I will gladly receive you once more into my favour. Disperse! Be off!”
All now quietly dispersed, thankfully enough, too, for they had expected decapitation. But ten were retained to dig deep graves near the sea and bury the dead. There were no wounded. This done, peace was restored once more on the Island of Flowers.
Three weeks of incessant rain followed. It fell in torrents, and the river itself overflowed its banks, the fords being no longer of any use, so that the men were confined to their barracks.
It was a long and a dreary time. Very much indeed Reginald would have liked to visit the palace, to romp with little Matty, and listen to the music of Ilda’s sweet voice.
“As for Annie – she must have given me up for dead long ere now,” he said to himself. “Why, it is two years and nine months since I left home. Yes, something tells me that Annie is married, and married to – to – my old rival the Laird. Do I love Ilda? I dare not ask myself the question. Bar Annie herself, with sweet, baby, innocent face, I have never known a girl that so endeared herself to me as Ilda has done. And – well, yes, why deny it? – I long to see her.”
One day the rain ceased, and the sun shone out bright and clear once more. The torrents from the mountains were dried up, and the river rapidly went down. This was an island of surprises, and when, three days after this, Reginald, accompanied by Hall and Dickson, went over the mountains, they marvelled to find that the incessant downpour of rain had entirely washed the ashes from the valley, and that it was once more smiling green with bud and bourgeon. In a week’s time the flowers would burst forth in all their glory.
The ford was now easily negotiable, and soon they were at the Queen’s palace. Need I say that they received a hearty welcome from her Majesty and Ilda? Nor did it take Matty a minute to ensconce herself on Reginald’s knee.
“Oh,” she whispered, “I’se so glad you’s come back again! Me and Ilda cried ourselves to sleep every, every night, ’cause we think the bad black men kill you.”
Ilda crying for him! Probably praying for him! The thought gave him joy. Then, indeed, she loved him. No wonder that he once again asked himself how it would all end.
The weather now grew charming. Even the hills grew green again, for the ashes and débris from the fire-hill, as the natives called it, had fertilised the ground. And now, accompanied by Ilda and Matty, who would not be left behind, an expedition started for the valley of gold. The road would be rough, and so a hammock had been sent for from the camp, and two sturdy natives attached it to a long bamboo pole. Matty, laughing with delight, was thus borne along, and she averred that it was just like flying.
Alas! the earthquake had been very destructive in Golden Gulch. Our heroes hardly knew it. Indeed, it was a glen no longer, but filled entirely up with fallen rocks, lava, and scoria.
They sighed, and commenced the return journey. But first a visit must be paid to Lone Tree Mountain. For Reginald’s heart lay there.
“From that elevation,” said Reginald, “we shall be able to see the beautiful ocean far and near.”
The tree at last! It was with joy indeed they beheld it. Though damaged by the falling scoria, it was once more green; but the grave in which the gold and pearls lay was covered three feet deep in lava and small stones. The treasure, then, was safe!
They were about to return, when Ilda suddenly grasped Reginald’s arm convulsively.
“Look! look!” she cried, pointing seawards. “The ship! the ship! We are saved! We are saved!”