Harry Milvaine: or, The Wanderings of a Wayward Boy

The Karaites fell back after a time, defeated and foiled, and Harry’s triangle then charged into their very midst, delivering by far and away the most furious and successful charge of the day.

For a time now it seemed to be a drawn battle.

It might have been well, now for Harry had he retreated farther, and probably gained the eastern hills, for, excited by fighting, Kara’s army would undoubtedly have followed them.

He did not, however, and in less than an hour he lost all opportunity of fever being able to do so.

On came the enemy once again, and this time they managed completely to surround Googagoo’s army.

Not his amazons, though; these fought with spear and axe in the rear of the enemy, and it is quite impossible to describe the terrible fury of each of their onsets.

For three long hours the battle raged.

The sun was now beginning to decline. The enemy seemed as determined as ferocious, and as numerous as before, while Googagoo’s ranks were sadly thinned.

They still kept their stand, however, against all the odds that Kara could fling in front of them.

Fight they must.

It was victory or death with them.

For defeat meant annihilation, it meant that not one man or amazon would ever return to the islands to tell the terrible tale, and that the islands themselves would soon have to capitulate, and come under the sway of the cruel King Kara-Kara.

The sun began to decline towards the western woods, but still the battle raged on. The words of Scott came into Harry’s head even now as he saw his brave fellows falling on all sides.

“What ’vails the vain knight-errand’s brand?Oh! Douglas, for thy leading wand!    Fierce Randolph for thy speed!Oh! for one hour of Wallace wight,Or well-skilled Bruce to rule the fight,And cry Saint Andrew and our right.”

The battle raged on.

One of Harry’s squares had already been broken, and it being impossible to re-form again, the men had fought their way through the cloud of savages around them and joined the ranks of the amazons.

Hope was beginning to fade even from Harry’s heart.

He could not bear to hear the plaint of poor King Googagoo.

“Where is He who fights for the right?” he was saying.

“Where is the Eye who beholds all things?”

Where is the Eye? Look. Whither shall we look? Look far away towards the western horizon yonder. Are those the crimson clouds that herald the sunset? No, they are too low down on the plain, and a rolling canopy of blue is rising up and meeting the sun.

The southern woods are all on fire. The battlefield itself is soon —

“Wreathed in sable smoke.”

And out from the fire, it would seem, there now rushes an enemy that King Kara-Kara has but little reckoned on meeting.

No wonder he withdraws his men from the sadly weakened phalanxes of the island king, and tries to make his way southwards.

Here he is opposed by the stern fierce amazons, and their ranks are soon strengthened by a cloud of savages, spear-armed, who rush up behind them and fall upon the enemy in their front.

“Scarcely can they see their foes,Until at weapon’s point they close,They close in clouds of dust and smoke,With sword-sway and with lance’s thrust;    And such a yell is thereOf sudden and portentous birth,As if men fought upon the earth,    And fiends in upper air;Oh! life and death are in the shout,Recoil and rally, charge and rout,    And triumph and despair.”

Neither King Googagoo nor Harry could tell what the meaning of this sudden attack on the ranks of Kara-Kara meant. It seemed like an interposition of Providence. So, indeed, they both considered it, and doubtless they were right.

Meanwhile Kara’s army, now sadly thinned, fought like veritable fiends.

Escape there seemed none.

The hills to the east were guarded by the island men, there was the lake behind them, the new foe in front, and the woods in the west were all ablaze.

The route was soon complete and the carnage dreadful to contemplate.

So terrible are these fights between African kings that it is no exaggeration to say, that out of all the thousands that Kara-Kara had brought into the field hardly one thousand escaped alive, and they had to force their way through the burning forest, many falling by fire who had come scathless from the field.

King Kara-Kara was among the killed.

He was found, next day, in the midst of a heap of the bodies of those who had rallied round him to the last —

“His back to the field, and his feet to the foe.”

In his hand he still clasped the spear he would never use again.

“Reckless of life, he’d desperate fought,    And fallen on the plain;And well in death his trusty brand,Firm clenched within his manly hand,    Beseemed the monarch slain.”

Book Four – Chapter Six.

The Mystery Explained – After the Battle – Death of Somali Jack

Before we can understand the seeming mystery that clings to the end of the last chapter of this tale, we must go a little way back, both as regards time and space.

All the men Harry had with him in the unfortunate scuttled dhow at the time she was beached were taken, along with little Raggy, by the so-called brother of Mahmoud into the far interior of Africa, and there sold or bartered away as slaves, and, as we already know, Suliemon made what dealers term “a pretty penny” out of the nefarious transaction.

Escape for the poor fellows so banished seemed impossible, for, although they had had an idea, from the appearance of the sun and stars, that they had been all the time journeying steadily west, with either a little angle of south or of north in it, so cruelly long had the route been, so terrible had been their hardships, and so great their dangers, that the idea of returning was considered by them as entirely out of the question. Hope did not quite forsake them, however, but they had no means of communicating with the outer world – that is, the world beyond this dark continent. Occasionally they cut letters in the hides of the wild beasts that had been slain, as these skins often found their way to the markets of Zanzibar and Lamoo.

Who knows, they told each other, but some one may see these letters, and come to our assistance!

But alas! though the letters were seen, and marvelled at and talked about, no government, either English or French, deemed it worth while to send a search and relief expedition.

Yet those ten poor fellows had wives and little ones, had sisters and brothers, and fathers and mothers at home, who were, like Harry’s parents, mourning for them as dead.

The lives of cruelty and indignity which they had led, during all these long dark dreary months and years, it is not my intention to describe. Suffice it to say that these men were the abject slaves of a brutal king, compelled to eat of the most loathsome garbage and to live in a state of almost nudity. No wonder that already four of their number had passed away. Their bodies, shocking to relate, were not even buried, but thrown into the jungle for the wild dogs to gnaw and the ants to eat.

The others lived, including Nicholls the bo’s’n.

Ah! often and often had they wished to die.

The only pleasure of their lives, if pleasure it could be called, was that at night they were not separated, but kept in one common prison, strictly guarded by armed sentinels.

Then in the dark they used to talk of the dear old days at sea, and of their homes far away in peaceful England.

More than once during the time of their captivity King Kara-Kara had been on the war-path against the drunken old ’Ngaloo, and the former had been the victor, although he had not followed up his triumph, as he used to threaten he would do, and annihilate ’Ngaloo and his people.

The two kings hated each other with a true and everlasting hatred, and the same may be said of their followers or people.

A day of rejoicing came at last, though, to the poor white slaves, and that was when the island scout had bravely forced his way into camp, and given them news of their officer Harry.

Then the king their master got word, somehow or other, of all the prosperity of honest Googagoo, and determined at once that he would make war upon him and utterly spoil and harry him.

So he called his men of war together, and made all preparations for the campaign which we have seen to end so disastrously for this ambitious monarch. He reckoned without his host in a manner of speaking – at all events he did not take King ’Ngaloo into account. He kept the sentinels on the hills and slipped away northwards at the dead of night.

Now ’Ngaloo had recently had a visit from a band of Somalis under the guidance of an Arab, who had brought him gifts of rum and beads. ’Ngaloo gave the beads to his wives to hang around their fat necks, their wrists, arms, and ankles, and his wives were happy in consequence, and even submitted with patience and smiles to be pulled around the palace tent by the king’s horrid tongs. But ’Ngaloo stuck to the rum.

He never knew quite clearly what he was about as long as his him lasted, but he was not a fool for all that; and when one day a sentinel reported that the towns and camp of Kara-Kara were very still and almost deserted —

“Oh!” said the king, “old Kara’s away after something. Ha! ha! ha! now is the chance for me! But I wonder where he has gone to.”

These rival kings had one thing in common, a certain superstition not unusual among some African potentates; they thought it unlucky to make war the one upon the other without some cause. These causes, however, were easily found; if they could not be found, then they could be manufactured for the occasion.

’Ngaloo determined to manufacture one now. So he went to bed, not to sleep, for he ordered his prime minister to squat on the floor close to his dais and hand him rum as he wanted it.

’Ngaloo preferred drinking like this, it saved him the trouble of tumbling about.

He lay awake nearly all night thinking and laughing and giggling to himself. Once he caught his prime minister napping, and gave him a back-hander with his tongs, which effectually kept him awake for some time to come.

In the morning ’Ngaloo called three of his people to him, and sent them away across the hills with a message for King Kara-Kara. It was to the following effect, though I cannot give the exact words:

“Will King Kara-Kara be good enough to cross the mountains with his army, and visit his dear brother King ’Ngaloo, the mighty monarch of the whole universal earth, who will have the greatest pleasure in pulling King Kara-Kara’s nose with his gilded tongs, and the nose of every man in his army.”

Off went the three men, and delivered their message, and off went their heads just three minutes afterwards. For though King Kara-Kara was far away, he had left a lord-lieutenant behind him.

It did not matter about the messengers having their heads off, they were first on the list, at all events, for the next human sacrifice, and a day or two back or fore could not hurt. But as they did not return, the fact formed a casus belli, and gave ’Ngaloo just the opportunity he wished for.

So he put on his war clothes, hung his tongs in his girdle beside his dagger, took his spear in his hand, summoned all his army, and marched over the borders, five thousand strong, with tom-toms beating and chanters braying, and in two days’ time had entered the Kara-Kara territory.

He captured every one he could, only those that were not worth capturing he made short work of. Then he burned all his enemy’s towns and villages, and having left a thousand men to lay siege to an inaccessible mountain, on the top of which, with the white prisoners, the lord-lieutenant had made his camp, ’Ngaloo with the rest of his savage army followed his foe up to the lake side, and it was fortunate he had arrived in time, as we have seen in the last chapter.

The remnant of Kara-Kara’s beaten army hied them back to their own country, only to find it laid waste by fire and sword; so they fled away into the wilderness, and joined other tribes with whom they had been friendly before this.

Having both fought on one side, and both assisted each other in annihilating the unfortunate Kara-Kara, ’Ngaloo and Googagoo naturally became very friendly.

Both armies bivouacked that night on the battlefield, and the wounded were attended to. These, however, owing to the brutal customs of African warfare, were very few, for ’Ngaloo’s men in the moonlight ran a-muck all across the blood-stained field, and ruthlessly slew all those who showed the slightest signs of life.

Next morning was a sad one for Harry, for his faithful Somali Jack, who had served him so long and so faithfully, who had nursed him in sickness, and more than once saved his life, breathed his last in his arms shortly after sunrise.

He had been terribly wounded in the battle, and nothing could save the poor fellow.

Quite conscious he was to the last, and conscious, too, that his end was drawing near, though neither he nor Harry knew it was so very nigh.

Some duty or other demanded Harry’s presence in another part of the field, but Jack said —

“Do not go and leave me now, dear master; stay with me a little time.”

“I will stay; I will not go – poor Jack,” replied Harry. And he sat down beside the dying Indian, and took his head in his lap.

Harry often thought of this last interview with his Somali servant afterwards, and how thankful he always felt, when he did so, that he had not gone away and left Jack. Had he done that he would not have seen the last of him, or heard his dying words.

These, however, were few, for Jack was weak and his voice feeble, and his breath coming in gasps. He lay some time quiet, then —

“I have so much to say,” he almost whispered; “but I forget, and I am cold —so cold.”

“I have a brother in Brava.”

Harry thought he said mother.

“You have a mother, Jack?”

“No; no mother – a brother. See him; tell him how I died, how I lived. Tell him about heaven and all things good, as you have told me.”

“Raggy – he will miss poor Jack.”

There was a long interval of silence. Jack’s eyes were closed now, and Harry thought he slept. But he opened them presently.

Then he put his cold damp hand in Harry’s. “Master,” he said, “you have given me life.”

“Oh, Jack!” said Harry, “I fear it is far beyond my skill to give you life.”

“But you have given me life – light and life. I was but a savage. You have told me of Him who can love even a savage.”

“Yes, yes, Jack; He loves you. He will receive you.”

“Say ‘The Vale,’” Jack murmured.

Harry knew what he meant, and repeated a verse or two, in metre, of that beautiful psalm that has given comfort to many a soul in sorrow.

The last verse that Jack could have heard was the fourth:

“Yea, though I walk thro’ death’s dark vale,Yet will I fear none ill,For Thou art with me; and Thy rodAnd staff me comfort still.”

There were just a few long-drawn sobs at intervals, then Harry sat watching to see if he would sigh again.

But a minute passed, and Jack sighed no more. Harry gently closed the eyes.

Then he sat for a time, biting his lip till it almost bled; but all to no purpose, his sorrow would find vent.

And knowing all we do, can we wonder at Harry’s grief?

Can we wonder that he bent over that faithful Jack, and that the scalding tears fell from his eyes upon the poor dead face?

Book Four – Chapter Seven.

The Fight on the Hill – Reunion – “The Greatest King in all the world” – Home Again

This is a busy, work-a-day world, events will not tarry, nor will duty wait even upon grief, and no sooner had Harry and his party dug a grave and laid poor Somali Jack to his long rest in a cotton-tree grove, than he had to hurry off to camp again.

It was the morning of another day, a bright and beautiful day, birds sang in the bush, or went flitting from branch to branch, displaying their rainbow colours, as happy and careless as if there were no sorrow in the world.

But other birds there were – kites and fierce-looking corvidae, with horrid-looking vultures, that went sailing lazily round in the sky, alighting every moment on some dead body – to gorge. And gorge they would, until unable either to walk, or fly.

And what they leave of the corpses on the battlefield the ants, whose great hills and homes can be counted by the score, will speedily devour.

At night, too, when the vultures have gone to roost on the scorched and blackened branches of the burned forest, wild dogs and hyaenas will come in crowds to the awful feast.

Then rains and dews will fall and wash the bones, and the sun’s bright beams will bleach them, till in time nought will be left in the field of that fearful fight except blanched skulls and snow-white skeletons.

Ah, boys! where is the glory of war when the fight is fought, when the battle is over, and the victory won? Look upon that silent, bone-strewn plain and tell me where.

As naturally as if he had been voted into it, did Harry now quietly and coolly assume command of the whole army, both Googagoo’s and ’Ngaloo’s. The latter king he could not respect, albeit it was through his instrumentality that they had all escaped utter annihilation. He tried to feel grateful to ’Ngaloo, but it was impossible, he really could not help observing that the great chief had a selfish, grasping, and grovelling mind. There were times, indeed, that he could scarcely feel civil to the savage.

And no wonder. ’Ngaloo, after looking for a long time at Harry’s actions, and admiring his bustling but well-trained activity, came, and with cool audacity made a proposition to him. It was couched in the following terms:

“We soon go back now to my beautiful land among the mountains. I am a great king now. I have been a great king all my life. I am now twice a great king, because I shall reign over all the rich land and woods of my dear brother King Kara-Kara, whose confounded dead nose I pulled on the battlefield. So there is no king in the world so great now as ’Ngaloo. Come, then, and live with me. I will make of you a big chief. I will cut the head of my prime minister off, and you shall reign in his stead, and have all his wives as slaves – ”

It was precisely at this point that Harry interrupted the king’s poetical harangue.

Harry simply said —

“Bosh!”

Very emphatically he said it, too. Then he wheeled right round and proceeded with his duty.

’Ngaloo went away then, somewhat crestfallen; but he had a private commissariat of his own, and he found some rum there, so he consoled himself with that.

A few hours afterwards, ’Ngaloo might have been seen marching about among Harry’s troops, with a sottish kind of a smile on his face.

’Ngaloo was taking lessons in modern warfare. He told Harry, when he met him, that he meant to remodel his own army upon the principles of Googagoo’s.

The cross-bows greatly took his fancy. So did the amazons.

He could not tire looking at them, and as soon as he got home, he said, he would arm and drill every one of his wives, and make amazons of them.

“And if they do not be good soldiers,” he added, “why, there is the tongs.”

He snapped that weapon as he spoke, and cackled and laughed as if he had said something very clever and witty.

The next stupid thing that ’Ngaloo did was to take Harry by the arm, and tell him with a burst of confidence, which was no doubt meant to be very friendly, that when they returned to King Kara-Kara’s, and captured the white slaves, Harry should have no less than two of them, and that he, ’Ngaloo, would only keep four to himself.

Harry burst out laughing in the great king’s face; but instead of being offended, ’Ngaloo was delighted, for he thought that Generalissimo Harry Milvaine was pleasedly acquiescing in his pretty little arrangement.

’Ngaloo was so delighted that he must needs go and help himself to another dose of his brain-devouring rum or fire-water.

Then he turned his attentions towards Googagoo. He made this honest king a very long speech indeed, laudatory of his own exceeding greatness, and of the comparative insignificance of every other king and chief in creation.

To all of this Googagoo listened with the politeness and urbanity inseparable from his nature.

But the king of the hundred islands, in a return speech, reminded ’Ngaloo that however great and glorious we were in this world, we must all die one day and go to another, where the Great Spirit would judge us according to the deeds done in the flesh, or forgive us if we trusted the Son that He had long, long ago sent to save us.

Alas! ’Ngaloo was not much impressed by the earnest words of Googagoo. He was silent for a short time, as if in deep thought; then he spoke to the following effect:

“Very likely all you say is true; but I suppose in the next world I will be just as big a chief, and have more territory than I have in this. For,” he added, “there is no getting over the greatness of ’Ngaloo.”

It took the united armies a whole week to reach King Kara-Kara’s country.

Harry had taken the precaution to keep his people quite separate and well in advance of ’Ngaloo’s, and gave strict orders to Walda and his other officers to watch for the slightest signs of, treachery on the part of ’Ngaloo.

Our hero mistrusted him, and perhaps he had reason; but, on the other hand, he need not have done so either, for “the greatest king in all the world” was so frequently overcome by frequent applications to his fire-water commissariat, that he had to be carried in a grass-cloth hammock nearly all the way.

It was forest land mostly which they traversed, woods filled with chattering monkeys and bright-winged silent birds, woods in which lions roared and hyaenas laughed all night long, woods often dripping with dank dews, and at times so dark by day that it was difficult to find a way through them.

But anon they would come to open glades and glens among the hills and mountains, with clear streams rippling through them, in which many a lusty trout gambolled and fed, with sweet bird-voices and the murmur of insect life, making music in the air, every creature happy and busy, because of the sunshine that gladdened all.

They came at last to the foot of the mountain or conical hill, where Harry’s unhappy shipmates were imprisoned.

Some slight show of resistance was made by those beneath, while those at the top and on guard rolled down great stones and rocks upon them.

But Harry’s brave fellows, he himself at the head of them – he well knew how to climb a hill – took the place with one wild determined rush.

Many of the assaulters were wounded and some were killed with the descending stones, so that their savage instincts got the better of their judgment, and in spite of all that Harry could do, an ugly scene of carnage took place as soon as the fort was captured. Harry had found his men at last. And not a whit too soon, for at the very moment when, waving his victorious sword on high, he scaled the last parapet, they were being ordered out for instant execution.

Ordered out? From what? Out, dear reader, from one of the most loathsome dungeons it is possible to imagine, dark, slimy, dismal, and filled with noisome vapours, a dungeon that for months they had shared with centipedes and slimy, slow-creeping lizards.

And all this time their food had been only raw cassava root and a modicum of half-putrid water.

And now Harry Milvaine, their beloved officer, stood in their midst.

They had not forgotten their discipline, for each and all touched their brows by way of salute.

“My poor fellows?” said Harry, his voice half-choked with emotion.

It was the first kind words they had heard for years. No wonder they broke down, and that those once sturdy British sailors – babies now in their very weakness – sobbed over Harry’s hands or hugged him in their feeble arms.

Harry had been telling Walda that, in all probability, there would be a quarrel with ’Ngaloo about his shipmates, the survivors of the Bunting’s men, and that there would possibly be some fighting.

“But,” said Walda, “I know the people of King ’Ngaloo well; they do not love fighting, they would rather cross the hills to their own homes.”

“Yes, true, Walda; but the king – the king. Remember that he rules over them, and if he bids them fight, then fight they must, and will.”