With Wolseley to Kumasi: A Tale of the First Ashanti War

He took the cap full of gunpowder, and began to lay a train, spilling the black grains in a thick line across the grass towards the hut. He ran it in through the door, faking care to keep the train well to one side where his feet would not touch it. Then he emptied what remained in a pile in the very centre. And meanwhile Johnnie carried the lamp, giving just sufficient light to show the way, and holding it as far from his barrel of kerosene as possible. And now there remained but two things to do. There were a few drops of water left in the bottle, drops to which the black had drawn Dick’s attention without avail. He took them now and threw them on his little heap of powder, stirring the mass with his fingers, and kneading it till he had the substance soft and sticky. Then he arranged it in the shape of a pyramid, and, having made his “devil,” carried it into the far corner of the room. He still had a few grains of powder left, and these he ran as a train from the devil to the clothing and odd stores which lumbered the floor.

“Finished,” he said at length, surveying his work with much pleasure. “Now the oil.”

Taking the drum, he pulled the cork out of the bung-hole and let the contents pour over the heap in the centre of the hut. He threw some over the walls, saturating every corner save the one in which the devil was placed. Then, carefully avoiding the train, he emerged from the hut, crossed to the gate and repeated the same process, spreading the inflammable fluid all round the rockets and detonators there, and taking it to the walls of the stockade, where he again threw the contents on the woodwork. That done, he put the drum down, and placed the lamp close to the bags of gold.

“Mind,” he said, lifting a warning finger, as he stood in the light, “you each take a bag and go. You leave the lamp burning, remember that. I shall want it to fire the train.”

It was time to move. By now the moon had sunk completely, and dense darkness reigned over the surrounding forest and the neighbourhood of the stockade. Our hero looked closely at his men. There was an air of suppressed excitement about them, but he could see no trace of fear. Indeed, these miners had already proved that they possessed courage, and though they were not like their countrymen, for ever practised in the arts of war, yet they had fair knowledge, as their behaviour had already shown. Each carried a rifle in his hand, while a bag of cartridges dangled across his shoulder. In addition, the short sword which every Ashanti man wears, hung from the waist, ready for hand-to-hand fighting. They sat on the ground in a circle, talking in whispers and waiting for the signal.

“Time to move,” said Dick, easily. “Open the gates, chief.”

Silently and stealthily, as if they were so many ghosts, the party issued from the stockade, and soon our hero, the two chiefs, and Johnnie, were alone.

“Five minutes after the first shot is fired you will move,” said their young leader. “It will take three more to reach the crest, and then – ”

“It shall be cleared,” whispered the chief, with determination in his voice. “My comrade and I have sworn that we will slay all who lie there. Trust to us to do the deed without a sound, and to return in time. We will make sure that none are left to spy upon us.”

Five minutes passed slowly, and still there was no sound. Though the four peered from the stockade, intent upon piercing the darkness, and observing the movements of their comrades, there was nothing to be seen. The ground outside might as well have been untenanted. It was trying work waiting there for the sound of a shot. The seconds were like minutes, so slowly did they seem to go. Dick could hear his own heart thudding, could hear the deep breathing of the chiefs, while ever and anon the weak rays of the lamp showed him the white of Johnnie’s eyes, as he turned them towards the sky. Ah! It was a shout which broke the trying silence.

A shout of alarm, coming from the lips of one of the enemy. And quickly following upon it came the sharp report of a rifle and a human scream, the cry of some unhappy native who had been hit. After that there was a medley of calls and loud reports. Shouts and cries of rage and excitement came from the enemy, rifles flashed and roared, while the muzzle-loaders of the Ashanti attackers bellowed as they sent their load of slugs towards the stockade. The air above the enclosure sang with missiles of every description. Angular pieces of lead and iron, bullets of excellent formation, ironstone pebbles and pieces of broken rock, hissed over the hut and stockade in answer to the fire of the defenders.

“Excellent!” said Dick, as he stared from the gateway. “They are doing well. If I were not aware of the movement being carried out, I should say that the garrison was making a sortie, or an attempt to break out, and that they were trying to find the weakest spot in the ring thrown round them. Listen to the calls of the enemy, and hark! there goes a whistle.”

Above all the sound came the shrill signal, perhaps blown by James Langdon himself.

“It may be a recall to the men on the crest,” he whispered. “Chief, it is time for you and your comrade to move.”

“We go. In a few minutes you shall hear from us, white chief.”

Dick turned to see the two brave Ashantis passing out of the stockade. In a moment they were gone, and, like their comrades, they made not a sound. He and Johnnie were left alone to listen to the firing and the shouts outside, and to strain their ears for some noise, a shout perhaps, the firing of a rifle, to tell them that the chiefs had been discovered. But no signal came from the direction of the crest, they had no intimation of the fate which had befallen the plucky two, till of a sudden a figure rose at their feet, causing both to start back.

“I am sent by my leader,” said a voice. “The crest is clear. There were two of the enemy there. They are dead.”

Dick could hardly believe his ears, and the news took a load from his mind. If all was clear on the crest, then it was time to set the others moving. He swung round and addressed Johnnie.

“You stay here till the bags are gone, then follow,” he said. “I am going to join our comrades in front.”

When the black stoker looked again his master was gone, and with a sigh and a shiver of apprehension he sat down beside the lamp, and waited there in silence, for he and the Ashanti chief could not understand one another. As for our hero, he crept forward till the shots on either hand told him that he was amongst the men. Then he sought one of them and whispered in his ear, with the result that the miner passed to left and right, giving his comrades the message, with orders to pass it on. It was wonderful with what intelligence these Ashantis carried out their part of the work. They began to fall back slowly, firing at the flashes of the enemy’s rifles, till they were within fifty yards of the stockade.

“Now begin to hold your fire,” said Dick, and in a minute the shots lessened. Another five minutes and the men were slinking back to the stockade, while our hero raced to and fro, firing his rifle repeatedly, so as to make the enemy think that the whole garrison was there. He fired, in fact, till his weapon was almost too hot to hold, and actually blistered his fingers. And then, when he judged that all must be clear of the stockade, and at the crest by now, he threw down his rifle and ran. Dashing into the stockade, he hardly paused as he snatched up the lamp, and went on pellmell for the hut. Leaping the train of powder, he ran to the far corner of the building, and knelt beside the “devil.” A jerk threw the lantern open, and in a second he had the candle in his hand. There was no time for hesitation, and at once he held the flame to the devil till it smoked and a few grains fizzled. But it did not fire at once. A little more heat was required, for he had over-damped the powder, and in his overstrung condition the extra time entailed in providing that heat was maddening. At any time the enemy might suspect. They might even then be within the stockade. He would then – Ah! It had fired. The devil was well alight, throwing out its pungent fumes, till they gripped Dick’s throat. He could move. The act was accomplished. The place was as good as fired.

He rose to his feet, stamped on the candle, and stole to the door. He would have been out in the open in another second had not something suddenly caused him to throw himself full length on the floor, where he lay in deep shadow, while just in front of him a few feeble rays from the spluttering devil passed through the door and showed him two figures. One was the half-caste, while beside him, bending low as they crept across the compound, was a native, the glint from his enormous blade coming to Dick’s eyes.

“A ruse! We have lost the birds,” he heard the half-caste growl huskily, as if his anger were choking him. “But they are close. I know they are near us. Hah! Look there, chief. Afire. Look! a fire!”

They were quite close by now, and Dick saw them both start back. Then, as they caught sight of the spluttering devil and took in the situation, he saw them turn to run.

“A mine! A mine!” shouted the half-caste.

Leaping to his feet, he ran towards the gate of the stockade, the native abreast of him, and close on their heels came Dick, aglow with excitement. He was bent on escape. He felt the doors of retreat closing on him, and he was determined to get away. Suddenly James Langdon turned and gripped the native. Then he swung round, as if a thought had occurred to him, and he had realised that there was time yet to save an explosion. Indeed, that was his thought, and he at once ran back to the stockade. An instant later he saw Dick’s figure bounding towards him in the darkness. He gave vent to a shout, and then crashed up against a boulder which happened to lie there, for our hero’s fist had struck him full on the chest. The blow almost staggered Dick, too, but he recovered his balance in a moment, and, swinging round, dealt the native a fierce stroke on the chin, sending him reeling. After that he was off like lightning. He was out of the gate ere a second had passed, and, darting round the stockade, was soon clambering up to the crest. Nor did he halt till he had reached the summit.

“Rest a moment,” said the voice of the chief. “I heard the commotion, and I am glad to report that the men who followed you into the place fled down the hill. See the smoke coming from the hut. And there are the flames. We will move when you are ready.”

Some five minutes later the two set off for the forest, the native leading, for he knew the way well, and had this enormous advantage over his young English leader, that he could see on such a night so well that they never once found themselves in a part where the difficulties of the track baulked their further progress. Since the day on which the expedition had first arrived, Dick had often taken the short cut to the forest which the agent had then used, and he knew how steep and difficult it was in parts, and how much care it called for, even when the easiest descents were selected. Had he had to find his way down alone on this night, he would probably have broken a limb, or lost his foothold and rolled, certainly to be dashed senseless before he reached the bottom. Then, too, it was not a time for hurry, such a dark night as this. But they had no choice. They could already see the glare of the flaming stockade in the sky. They could hear the shouts of their enemies, and they knew, the native far better than did Dick, that already his countrymen would be on the track.

“Once in the forest we shall be safe, I think,” he said, speaking as easily as if he had made no unusual efforts, though our hero was so short of breath that he gasped.

“Then we will put out all our strength to reach that place.”

By now they were near the foot of the rocky hill, and presently they were running steadily across the level. At length they reached the edge of the forest, where they halted, Dick to throw himself on the ground and gasp there for breath.

“A fine bonfire for our enemies,” laughed the chief, exulting now that he had left the worst of the danger behind. “How is it that there is no explosion?”

No explosion! The bomb had failed! Dick looked up suddenly, his fatigue forgotten in an instant.

“Perhaps we walked through the train and scattered the powder,” he said breathlessly. “Yes, I fancy that must be the secret. But it may go yet. The oil should carry the flames.”

A little later, when both were rested, there was a violent concussion in the distance, the report shaking the trees. An instant before, a mass of burning materials shot high up above the crest, while a series of loud explosions took place, as the rockets and detonators burst in mid-air. It brought a roar of exultation from the two standing beside the edge of the forest, a roar which changed as quickly into one of consternation. For however successful the bomb had proved, however well it had destroyed the stockade, and perhaps some few of the enemy, the flames it sent into the air lit up the surroundings and showed them that if James Langdon and his men had once been taken in they were not to be so easily caught again; and, moreover, that on this occasion they were bent on retrieving their misfortunes. For racing down the crest and across the open ground came some forty Ashanti warriors, their guns flung this way and that, and bare swords in their hands. They had discovered the direction of the flying garrison, and they were in full chase, coming like a pack of hounds who hold the scent and see victory before them.

“Lead!” said Dick, shortly, as they swung into the forest. “I have my wind now, and can keep up at any pace.”

It was well for him that he could do so, for the track was not an easy one. Still there is no stimulus so strong as that which promises a swift and terrible fate to the one who lags behind. Dick knew what to expect if he were captured, and he went on without flagging. Briars and vines slashed him across both face and hands, lacerating the skin. Thorns plucked him by his clothing and tore it to shreds. He struck his knees against fallen tree-trunks, and his feet against rotting boughs. He plunged through narrow swamps and rivers, and dragged his legs through mire which threatened to hold him. And all the time the shouts of the hunters came in his wake. Talk of the music of the hounds! Dick learned during that wild dash through the heart of this dense forest to appreciate the bitterness of that statement from the point of view of the quarry fleeing for his very life. He knew now how the call of the pursuers made the blood run cold, how the yelp of Ashanti warriors made the hair rise, and the limbs stand almost still with sheer fright. Yes, he was the hare this time, and had there been a man at his heels, flogging him with a whip of knotted steel wire, or goading him with spikes, he could not have run harder. The perspiration poured from him. Blood dripped from many a cut and laceration, while his breath came in short gasps.

“Hurrah! Him massa. Wait now, you young debil. Yo wait till I say go. Hold de fire till I tell yo. Hear? Can’t yo hear dem fellers comin’?”

Once again did Dick learn to bless the sound of that voice. He dashed along beside the creek, saw the launch lying some feet away, and flung himself into the water. The chief followed suit without hesitation, and in a minute they were pushing out into the stream, the two fugitives lying flat upon the deck, breathless and exhausted with their exertions.

And close on their heels came the enemy, maddened with rage, bent on securing the whole party. As the launch slipped into the stream and rounded the corner, first one and then some thirty of the warriors came tearing along the path, their dark figures hardly distinguishable in spite of the fact that the sky was getting lighter. But they could see clearly. They caught sight of the launch, and with yells of fury made ready to follow and effect her capture.

Chapter Ten.

A Native Fleet

“Yo’s no need for to worry, massa,” sang out Johnnie, severely, as Dick raised his head from his hands and looked along the deck anxiously. For the fact that it was empty, save for the chief and himself and three others, caused him sudden anxiety. “Yo’s get de wind again, and Johnnie see um all right. Wait dar! Back um! Yo black boy ober dar, swing um round so!”

He was in the well where the engine lay, and as he gave the orders Dick saw by the light of the furnace that he had shut off steam. Then he waved to the man at the helm, and the launch gently fell across the stream. And there she lay, shrouded in darkness, and hidden from the sight of the pursuers by the bank round the angle of which they were congregated. But whether they could see her or not, the enemy answered James Langdon’s shout with a volley from their muzzle-loaders.

“That’s um. Fire away, you debils. See some fun soon. See what Johnnie and his broders do. Listen to um cussin’.”

He roared with delight, for, as the reports of the scattered volley subsided the voice of James Langdon again came to the ear.

“Wade in!” he called out in the Ashanti tongue. “It is only a stream, my brothers, and in that way we shall have them. They must not escape. They have all the gold with them.”

“Yo watch!” said Johnnie, suddenly, as a series of loud splashes told that the enemy were attempting to carry out the movement. “You see fun now, massa. Hi, yo black boys! Fire de rifle.”

It was laughable, ridiculous, but very wonderful after all, to see Johnnie there, giving commands in his quaint English, commands which could not be understood by a single one of the miners. And yet this little stoker had a head on his shoulders, and had shown that he was deserving of much trust. For if he did not know the Ashanti tongue, by means of many jerkings of his arms and a huge amount of energy he could explain his plans, and get the men to fall in with them. And now Dick could see that he had made good use of the short time given him at the launch.

He had had a clear half-hour, or a little more, perhaps, and in that small space of time he had lit the fire, had stacked the bags of gold, for they could be seen in the cabin, lying snugly under the light of the furnace, and had made his arrangements for defence. He had posted his men a little distance away, under the trees, just where they could cover the enemy with their rifles. They were lying in the boat selected for their transport, and in the bows one of their number cowered over the small brass cannon. He had seen a gun before, that was evident, and his eyes gleamed with excitement. He put an arm out, clutched a bough, and moved the position of the boat ever so little. Then came Johnnie’s excited shout, a spout of flame burst from nine or ten rifles, and then there was a short pause, followed by a flash, by the splutter of powder at the vent, and then by an appalling crash as the gun went off.

“Put um helm ober, boy! Now give um little steam. Gently! Backum!”

Above the screams of the enemy, the hoarse bellows of those who had escaped the rifle bullets and the buckshot with which the gun had been loaded, for bags of these had been brought as likely to be the proper form of missile, the voice of Johnnie could be heard.

“Back um! Now, yo black debil in bow, hook um on. Throw de painter! Make up fast as wax. Now gib um steam. Go ’head. Gib um all she know!”

It might have been rehearsed. It was marvellous to think that all this had been arranged by a little fellow from Sierra Leone, employed as the stoker and driver of a steam launch. Dick was dumbfounded. But by now he was past expressing his feelings, and besides, he was so exhausted that he could hardly speak. He saw, however, that the chief command was in excellent hands for the moment, and, like a sensible fellow, he left Johnnie to conduct the flight till he had his strength again. And so he lay flat on the deck, listening to the shouts of the pursuers, getting now farther and farther away, to the husky voice of James Langdon, as he raced through the trees, and to the mutterings of the native at the engine of the launch. Then he smiled, a grim smile of amusement and of exultation, for he had conquered. He had won the fight, an unequal one, to say the least of it, and here he was, thanks to the splendid fellows who supported him, steaming away from the mine without the loss of a single worker, with little to mourn for, and with sufficient gold aboard to pay all wages, and leave a very handsome margin with which to reimburse his employers for the burning of their few spare stores and their stockade. In addition, there would be enough to give a fine profit, and such encouragement that when things had quieted down and James Langdon’s account had been settled, the mine would be worked again, and he, Dick Stapleton, would have certain employment.

“De beggar follow. Dey runnin’ down in de trees. Berry well! We stop dat. Yo boys, back dere. Get um guns ready.”

“Tell your men to load and fire into the trees when my comrade gives the command,” said Dick, in the Fanti tongue, which all the Ashantis understand. “Now, Johnnie, tell me what you want, and I’ll pass on the order. You will command till we reach the river.”

“Tank you, massa,” was the answer, as the little fellow swung round for a moment, showing a smiling mouth and two rows of gleaming teeth. “You watch, and see me gib dem pepper. Me gib dem fellows beans.”

He cut the steam off just a little till the launch slowed down, and till the Ashantis on the bank began to overhaul her. Meanwhile all aboard the launch maintained silence. Then again the native stoker shouted a command, and a hot musketry fire was poured into the forest. At the same instant the launch started forward as if she had been hit, and with the boat in tow went racing down the tributary. Nothing could stop her now. Bullets and slugs whizzed overhead, and a few struck the deck and the sides of the towing boat. But they could not arrest the flight, while the pursuers might shout and bawl as they liked. The launch sped on her way, causing the water to flood the muddy banks on either side, and disturbing more than one of the loathsome monsters reclining there. They came to a bend suddenly. She swung round it, dashed for an open reach, and shot out into the stream.

“Well done!” cried Dick, rising to his feet, and taking his post as leader again. “Very well done, Johnnie. You are a born commander. Now, put out into midstream and send her ahead. How’s steam, my lad?”

“’Nough to bust um, massa. Plenty steam and heap coal.”

“Then keep her going while I talk to the chief.”

He went right aft, to where the leader of the miners sat beside his comrade, staring to either hand and discussing the flight with his friend. Within six feet of them, at the end of the towing rope, lay the boat, with ten men aboard her, all with rifles in their hands, eagerly scanning the bank from which the last shots had come. Overhead the sky was already distinctly lighter. The forest on either hand had receded all of a sudden, while there were evident signs of coming day.

Every face aboard the two boats bore the same expression of contentment, of pride, at the success of their efforts. There was even a sterner look, as if many of the men would have delighted in another brush with the enemy.

“Never fear,” said Dick to the chief, “there will be more blows to be struck yet. We have miles of river to traverse, and if the Ashantis are on the war-path, it is more than likely that we shall have to run the gauntlet of a few of them. What do you think, chief?”

“We shall meet them on the Prahsu,” was the answer. “There will be more trouble both for us and for the English chief. As for these others who have just attacked us, they are beaten. They may cover their heads and seek women for attack after this. Men will laugh at them. The two hundred who are to follow will surely cut them to pieces if these remain to tell the tale.”

“Then we can take it easily now. We can reserve our coal, and prepare for this other meeting, chief. Why should we not run down the stream at night, or at least down that part known as the Prahsu?”

“The scheme is a good one,” was the answer, “and for the white chief and his servant it will be as well to act as you say. For us there must be a different arrangement. Has our brother thought of the fate which will come to men of Ashanti should they land on the far bank some miles down this river? There the cowardly Fantis live, and with them we are forever at war. They would kill us most certainly.”