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

“Good. We will go, Meinheer,” he said. “Ze sooner ze bedder.”

“And as I am the lightest and perhaps the most active, I will land,” added Dick. “Then, in case of an attack, you two can cover me with your rifles. There is no trusting these rascals, particularly when James Langdon commands them.”

A few minutes later the remains of the breakfast had been cleared away, and while the trio smoked their pipes and chatted, Johnnie stoked the furnace, throwing coal upon it till a column of smoke issued from the funnel. Soon the hiss of steam from the escape told that the launch was ready for a move, and at once Mr Pepson stepped to the tiller.

“We’ll leave our boats anchored over here,” he said, “for it would never do to have them over on the far shore and run the risk of attack. In the confusion, if there were need to escape, they would hamper us, and would perhaps be lost. Make them fast together, Dick, and we’ll leave Johnnie in charge.”

Another two minutes saw the launch steaming away from beneath the trees on the eastern side of the Pra, and presently her nose was pushing its way through the reeds and osiers which cropped up here and there on the far side.

Mr Pepson still held the tiller, a rifle beside him, and a cigar between his lips. The bulky form of the Dutchman was stretched out on the deck behind the tiny cabin. His rifle was at his shoulder, and he surveyed the jungle eagerly, treating every dark patch and shadow to a fierce scowl which boded ill for the man who might be lurking there. His finger on such occasions would go to the trigger of his snider till Dick fidgeted and felt uncomfortable, for he was not far from the line of fire. He lay in the bows, a light bamboo in his hands, with which he every now and again sounded the bed of the river to make sure that there was sufficient water. A few minutes’ gliding along in the shadows brought them to the spot where the action of the previous night had taken place, a spot instantly recognised by the figures lying about it. For stretched in the sun were the victims of Dick’s fire, as yet undiscovered by the river alligators. Dick shuddered, and transferred his gaze to the bush. Then, remembering Mr Pepson’s words, he looked again. One poor wretch lay face down in the water, his body already almost covered with drifting mud, while his feet protruded on to the land. Close to him lay a second, still and dark, his limbs stretched to their fullest extent, while some paces away were three more of the attackers, all stark and dead.

“The reward of rascality,” cried Mr Pepson. “A horrid sight, my friends; but then we might have been in their place, and war and battles are always horrid. How’s the depth, Dick? Can you get ashore?”

For answer our hero tried the sounding with his stick again, and then stood up. Taking his rifle he dropped lightly into the water and waded ashore. Then he went to the figures lying about. They were all undoubtedly dead, and a glance satisfied him of that fact. At once he went on towards the bush, which at this point receded somewhat from the river, and presently something attracted his eye. It was a path leading into the forest, a path freshly broken and trodden, the one, no doubt, by which the robbers had fled.

“Leave it,” shouted Mr Pepson. “You would be in the middle of the jungle, where all is dark, and we could not help you. Come back. We have learned all that we desired. There are five killed here, and one whom you shot in the first boat. But one moment. Do any of these fellows belong to our runaway crew?”

Dick retraced his steps slowly, and reluctantly looked at the bodies again. There was not the slightest doubt that they were the very men who had come from Elmina – all, in fact, save one, whose face was strange.

“Then James Langdon had others with him,” thought Dick. “Somehow, I don’t know why, I feel misgivings about that man. His memory haunts me. What if he attacked us again!”

What if our hero had known that the ruffian whose name he mentioned was at that very moment within little more than a stone’s-throw! That James Langdon had come down to the river-bank that morning, having left his lair in the forest just as the launch steamed away from her anchorage of the previous night! That he had watched with the eagerness and stealth of a fox, and had rubbed his hands with delight as he saw the son of the master he had robbed drop into the water! For this half-caste forgot that he himself was to blame for the existence which he now led, for the discomforts which he had now to put up with. He placed all the blame on Dick’s shoulders.

“There he is!” he growled, as Dick waded towards the shore. “But for his coming to the coast I should have been able to remain there, still unsuspected, and there, living in a good house, I could still have done this work for King Koffee. And I could have gained riches more quickly. But we shall see. Ah! he is ashore. If he steps nearer I will shoot him like a bird.”

He crouched in the underwood, while his hand went to the pouch at his waist. A growl of anger and disgust escaped him, for the revolver which he had carried was not there. He had no weapon but a large sheath-knife, which he carried at his hip.

“It will do as well, and it is silent,” he said to himself. “He is coming. The young fool will walk into the trap, and this time I will not be flurried. He shall come on without a suspicion, and when he has passed me I will leap on his back and there will be an end of the matter.”

His ferrety eyes gleamed with malice. He spat on the hand which was to hold the knife, and then gripped it with all his strength. His limbs arranged themselves till the man was poised on the tips of his toes and fingers, till he sat crouched in a position to spring upon the back of his unsuspecting foe. Then came the voice of the leader. Dick stared into the jungle till the half-caste thought he must be seen. Then he retired to the launch, inspected the faces of the slain, and went aboard.

“My luck!” growled James Langdon. “But the chance will come again. Oh, yes, my friend, Dick Stapleton, you will be sorry one of these days. As for the men who have engaged you as their agent, they are fools. It would be better for them if they had never met you.”

He glared at the launch and her passengers as she steamed away, and still continued to stare at them till they reached the far side of the Pra; for a thought had struck this ruffian.

“Why not?” he asked himself. “They will be alone. There will be gold in plenty. Why should I not have my share of that or take all that they possess? If I have failed this time I shall succeed at the next attempt.”

The thought pleased him immensely, for his face lightened, the scowl left his forehead, and for a moment James Langdon looked as if he were not the villain he had proved himself to be. But he would not have deceived Dick Stapleton. Had our hero been able to see him there in the bush, he would have suspected the mischief that was brewing, and the misgivings which now filled his mind would have been vastly increased. As it was, he and his friends went on their way up the river, and their adventure of the night almost forgotten in the passing scenes, and in anticipation of the pleasures before them.

Chapter Six.

Forest Dangers

Two days passed without event as the steam launch made her way up the river Pra, and each day the stream narrowed. Indeed, the expedition was approaching the bifurcation of the river, and so far had not come upon the tributary which they were to ascend.

“We shall know it by two enormous cotton trees, one of which has fallen against the other,” sang out Mr Pepson that evening, as the anchor was dropped, and the trio sat down to their meal. “Remember, two cotton trees, one of which is supported by its fellow. Is that not the description, Meinheer?”

“Good. Id is zad. I have never seen him, bud I know. Meinheer Dick shall hear how I come do find zis place. A native run away to Elmina and draw a map in ze sand wiz his doe. He said, ‘over zere, plendy of gold, and mines close do ze riber.’”

“And you brought the tale to me,” interrupted Mr Pepson, “with the result that we sent an agent, and after getting his report we obtained a concession, and set native gold-diggers to work. That’s the secret of this mine, Dick. It’s so close to the river that one can take machinery there, and the winding gear we have brought, though small, will be sufficient to tell us whether it is worth our while to bring more. Transport is the main difficulty in this country, and if we have a river, why – ”

“Zere is moch gold for all,” burst in Meinheer. “Wid a riber we can reach ze mine and can dake our goods. Zen ze ground is clear. Id is rocky soil, and ze fever is nod gread.”

“Which reminds me. We must take precautions,” said Mr Pepson. “I have brought ample supplies of quinine, and we must take a few grains every day. It is the only thing for an Englishman, or for any white man. But that is not the only precaution we must take against malaria. I have not lived in Sierra Leone all these years, nor travelled in many another fever-haunted country, without learning what to avoid. The cause of the fever is too doubtful for me to attempt to make a statement, but supposing it is the water, as the doctors say, then we must avoid unboiled or unfiltered water; and boiled water is certainly the safest. We must sleep off the ground, clear of the mists, and must choose the highest spot. If the stockade is well posted, all will be right. If not, we will rebuild it. Then there are the mosquitoes. Some, a few only, whose numbers are steadily growing, say that these insects convey the germ of malaria. (This is now an accepted fact.) Very good. We will keep them away as far as possible by the use of curtains at night. Last of all, the man who exercises in the cool of the morning and evening, who avoids the direct rays of the sun at midday, and who eats and drinks lightly, stands a far better chance than does the one who is lazy, and who is apt to indulge too much. Pass the biscuit, Dick, and light up if you care to do so, Meinheer.”

According to their usual custom, a custom suggested by Dick, the launch kept her steam in till darkness had fallen, and then, as soon as the anchor had been hoisted, she ran farther up the river, and put over to the opposite shore. That done, she was anchored again, fires were banked, and the party settled for the night, the watch being taken in turn. On the following day, after half an hour’s run, Meinheer Van Somering gave vent to a shout of delight.

“Mein friends!” he cried, as he danced on the deck till the steamer heeled. “Zose are ze drees. Look you. Two, and one lies on ze ozer. Ah, yes, Meinheeren, and ze riber is zere also. We are proud men do-day!”

“We are lucky, you mean,” answered Mr Pepson. “Who ever heard of an expedition setting off to find a tributary which runs into a river of this size some days’ journey from its outlet, a tributary the mouth of which is hidden almost by jungle, and is marked only by two cotton trees. However, there it is, and now we are but a few miles from the landing-stage. Let’s push on. It’s hot and close here, and the sky is overcast.”

They turned the nose of the launch for the narrow tributary, and steamed slowly into it for there was no saying when they might encounter a sunken bough or some other obstacle. On either hand now were trees, the dense forest, while at the base of this forest grew a network of trailing plants. Every variety of vine was there, and amongst them the one which produces rubber. Yams were seen in abundance, while orchids and other plants hung from the trees in festoons, their blooms illuminating many a dull patch. The banks were composed of slimy ooze and mud, and from these, as the boats trailed past, an occasional loathsome form was seen to waddle, and an alligator splashed into the water.

“Gentlemen to whom it is well to give the right of way,” laughed the leader. “They will do us no harm, but I should be fearful if we were to be upset. Now, how far do we steam?”

“Five or six mile, Meinheer. You will know when we reach ze road, for zere is a liddle place to land. Oh yes, zere is no difficuldy.”

“Then the sooner we reach the place the better,” exclaimed Mr Pepson. “I don’t like the look of the weather. This is hardly the season for rains, but it looks as if we were in for a torrent.”

An hour later a tiny staging was seen on the left bank of the stream, for the river was little more now. Indeed, in most places, the trees actually met overhead, while the dense foliage made the place so dark that dusk might have been falling. But in spite of the shelter obtained from the rays of the sun, the heat was intense. At the point where the staging appeared there was a break in the trees, and, as they drew opposite it, they saw that it had been erected at a point where another stream, a tiny tributary, emerged from the forest. Along its bank there was a path, while its mouth seemed to have been widened.

“All of which shows that we have a thoughtful agent,” said Mr Pepson, as he put the helm over. “Back her, Johnnie. Steady. Ahead a little.”

Very easily and gently the four craft were brought into the tributary, their painters being made fast to the trees which came close to the bank. Then the party landed and looked about them.

“Zis is hod, mein friends,” grunted the Dutchman, as he stood panting in his shirt sleeves. “I do nod wish for zis walk in ze foresd.”

“While I shall be glad to get it over,” said Mr Pepson, with emphasis, casting an eye overhead as he did so. “I tell you we are in for a storm, and that is hardly a pleasant prospect in such a place.”

Dick wondered why, for the mass of the forest which hemmed them in on every side seemed ample to protect them from any harm which might come from a storm. But no doubt his leader had had experience and knew, and at his words he slung his rifle, took a bag of cartridges, and prepared to march. Johnnie, too, leapt to the shore, for there was no longer any need to leave a guard, and within a few minutes the party was en route for the gold-mine.

Almost for the first time in his experience, Dick marched by a forest road, a track cut through the heart of the jungle, and he began to realise what were the difficulties of transport in this remarkable country. For the path was barely wide enough to admit one single man, and the great girth of the Dutchman often brought him into difficulties. It bore signs of having been cut some weeks before, for the marks of knives and hatchets were often to be seen. But in spite of the care taken in clearing it, parts were already practically impassable; for vines and other creepers had grown across it. However, a few sweeps from Mr Pepson’s sword cut them clear, and the party were able to advance. They wound here and there, following the track, which deviated so as to avoid large trees and very thick brush. At times they sank to their knees in marsh land, while on several occasions they leaped or waded across streams quietly trickling through the jungle. It was all very new and very strange, and our hero could have enjoyed it more had it not been for the heat. It was intensely hot and muggy. Not a leaf stirred, and not a sound came to them save the creak of an occasional bough, and the crack of twigs which lay underfoot. Bird and beast life seemed to have departed. Mr Pepson shook his head and hurried on.

“Better reach the open as soon as we can,” he said. “This is no place for a man once the storm breaks. Listen! It is coming.”

The tops of the trees moved while the tangle of leaves rustled. Dick thought he heard an indefinite sound, a distant hum, gradually rising in intensity, but as yet it was so slight that he was uncertain. He halted as Mr Pepson turned round and mopped the perspiration from his face. Then, as he replaced his handkerchief, he looked at his chief and started back. For the leader of the expedition, usually so calm and self-possessed, looked as nearly terrified as Dick imagined it would be possible for him to be. He stared overhead, and stood there listening acutely.

“You hear it?” he asked anxiously. “You hear a moaning sound?”

“I fancy I did a minute or so ago, sir. Wait. Yes. There it is, without a doubt, and it is louder.”

“Id is ze wind, mine frien, I zink,” gasped Meinheer, seating himself on a fallen log.

“The wind! It is the storm. A tornado!” exclaimed Mr Pepson, ominously. “I tell you we are in the greatest danger, and that we must act if we wish to be secure. Look about you, and find a spot where there are very big trees, and numbers of trunks which have fallen.”

He went on all fours and peered into the jungle and up towards the summits of the trees, many of which towered for two hundred feet overhead. And presently, when they had moved on a few yards, Dick’s hand went out and he drew his leader’s attention to a part which seemed to meet his requirements. A glance seemed to satisfy Mr Pepson, for in an instant his sword was out again, and he began to hack a road to the spot with all his strength. There was evidently no time for explanation, that Dick could plainly tell, for the distant hum had now risen to a roar, which seemed much nearer, while the tops of the trees above him rocked and strained in the wind. Then they were still again till another gust caught them. Whatever the danger to be feared, he had known Mr Pepson long enough to be sure that it must be great, else why the haste, why so much anxiety? Whipping out his sword he fell to beside him, and together, with Meinheer following them, his coat over his shoulder, and his handkerchief mopping the perspiration from his face, they fought their way through the jungle till they had reached the spot which Dick had pointed out. And here Mr Pepson threw himself exhausted on the ground, gasping with his exertions, while Dick was glad to sit down. As for Johnnie, he crouched at the foot of a giant cotton tree and cowered there. Dick could see the whites of his eyes, and noticed that he trembled.

“Get in here,” suddenly shouted Mr Pepson. “The very place! It may shelter us.”

He sprang to his feet, and forcing his way through some feet of the tangle, came to a tree of somewhat smaller dimensions as to height, but of enormous girth.

Like all the cotton trees in the forest at that point, the roots of this leviathan barely did more than penetrate the surface of the ground, for it was there that all the moisture lay. Below was a hard stratum which offered opposition, and as a result the roots had spread themselves out over a wide area, while they had risen into the air till there was an archway of large dimensions beneath the tree. Dick had seen the same before, and it had attracted his attention. At Mr Pepson’s shout he tore after him, and presently all four were stretched under the arch. Nor were they a minute too soon, for if there had been a roar before, the noise now was deafening and positively awe-inspiring. The gusts which had up to this caught the tops of the trees seemed now to be concentrated into one enormous blast. The very forest shivered and trembled. The treetops bent and the trunks groaned. Then the storm burst. A sheet of lightning lit up the sky and even penetrated to the forest depths. The roar became even greater, till the volume of sound was positively deafening. And how the trees bent! The one beneath which the party lay trembled and swayed. As Dick’s hand rested on one of the giant roots he could feel it moving under the strain, and wondered whether the huge mass would topple.

Crash! There was a sharp sound as if a cannon of small calibre had been fired, and a mighty tree a few yards away, fractured some feet from its base, came with a thud to the ground. Meinheer hid his face in his hands and groaned, while Johnnie rolled on the ground in terror.

“That was what I feared,” shouted Mr Pepson, now quite calm. “There will be many more before the storm is ended. But I fancy we are safe. They will not always fall so close to us.”

Dick looked out into the jungle, his face calm and grave, though in his heart he felt terribly afraid. For this was something against which one could not battle. The storm would have its way whatever man might do, and to stand there utterly helpless, was trying. All round him he could hear the crash of trees. One fell even closer than the first, and caused him to step backward in alarm, for the mighty trunk was dropping directly towards him, sheering through everything that stood in its way. It lopped the tops from half a dozen cotton trees, and brought two more crashing through the forest with it. Then, as Dick thought that he and his companions must be destroyed, its branches became entangled in those of the tree which sheltered them. Again he felt the vast mass sway. The trunk actually gave out a loud report as if it had cracked. But it was a veteran, and, thanks to its huge girth, was of unusual strength. It stood its ground, and when Dick looked again there was the falling tree held up in midair, with its two victims with it. It was a marvellous escape.

“That is the worst, I should say,” said Mr Pepson, coolly. “It was a narrow shave, I admit, but then I was expecting trouble. We are lucky, I can tell you, and you will realise the fact as we push on again. Ah! here comes the rain. I fancy we may congratulate ourselves.”

They had indeed every cause to be thankful, for their escape had been a narrow one. An hour later, when they emerged from the friendly shelter of the tree and struck out on the path once more, all realised this more fully. For hundreds of giants had fallen. Their trunks lay in every direction, many fantastically supported in mid-air, pillowed on the branches of their fellows.

“That is what one sees all along the coast,” said Mr Pepson, turning his head, “and I am told that some of the caravan routes which pass through this forest toward the interior are often almost completely blocked by fallen trees. It is the weedy youngsters that tumble. They run up swiftly, as straight as a rod, till they overtop the veterans. Then comes a gale, and owing to the nature of the ground and the little hold which their roots give them, they topple over. We’ve had a lesson, Dick. Keep out of forests in future when the wind blows.”

A little later the party emerged into the open, and were delighted to find that there was a very wide clearing, the forest standing back on all sides for more than a mile. And in this space the ground rose steeply, till its crest blotted out the view beyond.

“Rock,” said Meinheer Van Somering, with a chuckle of delight. “Dad was ze report, I zink. We were told dad ze mine was well placed. I agree, Meinheer, for in zis coundry where zere is rock zere is gold.”

At this moment a shout rang out in the silence, and a figure appeared on the crest of the rock.

“Our Dutch agent,” said Mr Pepson. “He is coming down to us, and soon we shall be at the stockade.”

Indeed, within a quarter of an hour the agent had joined them, making his way down the steep rocky hill by a path which was invisible from where they stood.

“Mein word!” exclaimed the Dutchman, as he stared at his agent and watched his agility as he leaped down the steep path. “If zat is ze only way do ze stockade, we shall be dead. Yes, I tell you, we shall die, for who could climb such a blace? Id is too steeb.”

“And happens to be the nearest way,” replied Mr Pepson, reassuringly. “Never fear, Meinheer, there will be an easier way down.”

That the agent was glad to see some white men could not be doubted, for he rushed toward them with a shout, and commenced to greet Meinheer Van Somering volubly. Then he was introduced to the others, and shook hands with an eagerness which showed that for many a week he had had no one there with whom to practise the art.

“Glad to see you, gentlemen,” he cried, in excellent English. “That am I, for it is dull here. When you get to the top I shall show you why. You will see to the right and left trees in one dense mass. To the north and south there is the same. Nothing but trees, and the blue sky overhead. It becomes tiring. But now you are here and I shall have company. Come this way. We can go by the path which I have just followed, or we can skirt round the hill.”

They elected to go by the latter path, for the steep ascent would have been too much for Meinheer. After an hour’s walk they found themselves on the far side of the rocky highland, and there before them lay the stockade, high up on the side of the hill, and within an easy rifle-shot of the forest.