To prove that Adair was right, the Ranger soon after made her number, and at the same time another sail appeared to the northward. She turned out to be a brig of war, the Wasp. Captain Grant immediately went on board the frigate, Captain Lascelles entered fully into his plan, and instead of three, as soon as the Wasp came up, fortunately ten boats started on the expedition. Hemming was much gratified when Captain Lascelles declined to supersede him, assuring him that no one was better qualified to be entrusted with the command. The boats dashed over the bar, and pulled up the south branch. As it was flood-tide they made rapid progress. They had gone some way up when they saw someone on the bank of the river beckoning to them. “A mere naked nigger,” said Adair, looking through his glass, “not worth waiting for him, I should think.” Hemming seemed to be of the same opinion, for the boats continued their progress. Seeing this the negro set off running as fast as he could go, and was soon lost to sight in the jungle. Not long after they came to the end of a reach, and then it appeared that the river doubled back as it were on itself.
“Hillo, there is something in the water ahead of us,” sung out Adair to Murray.
“It is a negro swimming off to us. Do you see him, sir?” said Murray to Hemming, whose boat was near his.
The negro lifted up his hand, as if trying to make a signal to them, and wishing to be taken into one of the boats. Hemming told Murray to pull towards the negro, and ascertain what he wanted. In a few minutes Murray had hauled a young negro lad into his boat. “What is it you want, my lad?” asked Alick, in his usual kind way. The poor negro evidently wanted to speak, but could not find English words enough to express himself, though he was very voluble when employing his own language. No sooner, however, had Murray returned to the line of boats and retaken his place near Hemming than the black lad’s countenance brightened up. “Ah, Massa Hemming, Massa Hemming!” he exclaimed, trying to spring into the lieutenant’s boat. He would in his eagerness have jumped overboard, had not some of the seamen held him back.
“He seems to know you, sir,” said Murray.
“Is, is—me know Massa Hemming; is, is, kind massa,” exclaimed the young negro, eagerly catching at the words.
“Let him come into my boat, and I’ll hear what he has got to say,” said Hemming, greatly to the delight of the negro, who clearly understood him. No sooner was the black lad on board Hemming’s boat than he seized his hand and kissed it and showed every mark of affection. Then with evident eagerness and haste he made all sorts of signs, aiding them by such few words as he knew. “Man come—bad, no, no,” he said pointing up the river. Hemming understood that someone would come and try and mislead them, and that they were not to trust him. Then Hemming tried to ascertain the fate of the missing boat’s crew. His heart sank when the negro explained, by signs that he could not mistake, that they had all been murdered.
“No one escaped?” he asked.
The negro shook his head, no, not one survived, it appeared. Murray and Adair were soon made acquainted with the information, and then indeed they began to fear that Jack Rogers, their gallant jovial companion, was lost to them for ever. Grief and indignation, and a desire to punish the perpetrators of the deed, took possession of their hearts. That was but natural. It is difficult to distinguish between revenge, which is wrong, and a desire to punish evildoers when we ourselves are affected by their misdeeds.
The young negro, after talking away and making signs to Hemming for some time longer, desired to be put on shore. Murray was ordered to convey him there.
“Good man—good man, Massa Hemming,” he kept saying all the time. “Take care, bad man come off shore.”
As soon as he landed, off he darted again through the mangrove bushes, and was lost to sight.
“He seems to be an old friend of yours, sir,” observed Murray when he got back.
“Yes, I find that he is a lad I once, when he was a young boy, jumped overboard to save in the West Indies after he had been taken out of a slaver,” answered Hemming carelessly.
“He made me out when we were in the river before taking the Spanish schooner, and has ever since been watching for an opportunity to speak to me. I cannot make out exactly what he wishes to guard us against—some treachery I conclude. I could not fancy that he would have recollected me so long. It shows that blacks have grateful hearts.”
The flotilla of boats proceeded some way farther, when a large canoe was seen paddling out towards them from the shore. A burly negro sat in the stern and made a profound salaam with his palm-leaf hat as he approached.
“Me first pilot in dis river,” he shouted with a stentorian voice; “take me board—me come show way.”
Hemming ordered his crew to cease rowing, and took him into his boat to hear what he had got to say for himself. He had, however, exhausted nearly all his vocabulary in his first address, and there was some difficulty in understanding him. In vain Hemming tried to gain some information about the missing boat and her crew. The negro either knew nothing or was resolved not to tell. At last he produced a book of certificates, and when Hemming had glanced over them he burst into a fit of laughter and handed them back. The big negro looked exceedingly indignant, and, striking his breast, repeated vehemently, “Me good man—me show way.”
Many of the certificates had been far from complimentary to the negro, but still Hemming thought that he might be useful as a pilot, till he recollected the warning he had just before received.
“This is undoubtedly the very fellow I was to expect,” he said to himself. “No, no, you go on shore; we can do without you,” he exclaimed, addressing the negro.
The burly savage blustered and protested, but he was made to step into his canoe, which had been paddling alongside, and Hemming signified to him clearly that he must take himself off. They observed him watching them for some way; then he hauled up his canoe, and taking a path inland, they saw no more of him. They had pulled on for half an hour or more when Murray caught sight of a board floating in the water. He could scarcely account for the impulse which made him steer towards it and pick it up. His eye brightened as he looked at it.
“Hurra!” he shouted joyfully; “Hurra! Jack Rogers is alive; here is a note from him. There is no doubt about it. It is short though—he says: ‘A prisoner. Up south branch. Jack R.’” The shout was taken up by his own crew and the crews of all the other boats, and the banks of the stream rang with their loud hurras. This brief notice instigated all hands to make still greater exertions to try and recover Jack, wherever he might be. On they went; reach after reach of the winding river was passed, and they had got a long way up, higher than any of them had been before, when a shot, seeming as if it came out of the bank, flew over their heads. Another and another followed.
“We are just in front of the pirates’ battery,” exclaimed Hemming; “on, lads, on! we’ll storm it without delay.” The seamen required no further encouragement. A shower of rockets was first fired into the enemy’s fort, and then on they dashed, in spite of the heavy fire of musketry, as well as of grape-shot and langrage, which was opened on them in return. To their rage and disappointment, the boats stuck on the mudbank just outside the stockades, which they only then discovered. Many of the seamen leaped out of the boats and attempted to wade onwards, but they either at once sank into the mud or fell forward into the deep ditch, where several were shot down before they could be rescued by their comrades, while others were drowned or smothered in the mud. It was horrible work. An enemy whom they despised was close to them and yet could not be got at. Hemming, his heart burning with anger and grief at the loss of so many poor fellows and the almost hopelessness of success, ordered the boats to shove off with the intention of making an attack on some other part of the fort. The blacks continued firing away under cover without much fear of being hit in return. Before getting to any great distance Murray thought he saw a channel to the right, which must run near the fort. He pointed it out to Hemming, who told him to lead the way. He was right; the negroes had neglected to fortify it, and in a few seconds the boats were close up to the stockades. Not a moment was lost in storming them and hauling them down. In rushed the gallant bluejackets, led on by Hemming, Murray, Adair, and other officers, and at length they got their black enemy face to face.
“There’s Rogers, there’s Rogers!” shouted Murray and Adair, for they both saw him at the same time. They were certain of it, though his features were considerably begrimed with powder, smoke, and dirt. This was incentive enough to make them push on with still greater haste, had they not been eager to punish the abominable slave-dealers and their crew of ruffians. The brave fellows little knew the terrible trap prepared for them. Murray and Adair had sprung on ahead, and believed that in another minute they would have rescued Jack from the grasp of his captors, when they felt themselves suddenly pulled back by Hemming and Dick Needham.
“Back, back, lads, back!” sang out the lieutenant. At that moment up ascended, right before them, a mass of earth and stones and wood, with a dense cloud of smoke and dust, accompanied by a terrific roar, and they felt themselves lifted off their feet and sent heels over head, while down upon them came showering all the more solid portions of the above-mentioned materials about their ears, as they lay half-stunned and stifled, and vainly endeavouring to rise. Another foot in advance, and they would have been blown to destruction. Hemming had seen the old Spaniard fire his pistol into the tub, and guessed what was coming. Murray and Adair felt themselves very much hurt, so indeed were Hemming and Needham; while several poor fellows were maimed or killed outright. The two schoolfellows, after lying stupefied for a few seconds, lifted up their heads and began to crawl out from the mass of ruins which surrounded them.
“Where’s Jack?” exclaimed Murray.
“Where’s Jack?” cried Adair, getting upon his legs and helping Murray, who was hurt more than he was.
These were the first words they uttered. He had not been out of their thoughts in spite of the dreadful commotion. As the smoke cleared away they caught sight of the group of fugitives, among whom they supposed he was, ascending the hill which rose beyond the fort. They were eager to pursue, but when they looked round and saw so many of their companions disabled, and Lieutenant Hemming himself on the ground, they could not help fearing that pursuit would be hopeless. Still they were moving on, when Hemming, recovering himself, called them back.
“It is of no use, lads,” he cried. “The scoundrels have escaped us this time. See, see, too, we have work here.” As he spoke, flames burst forth out of the barracoon, part of which had been blown up by the mine. The seamen who could stand, wounded or not, rushed forward, led by their officers, to help the miserable slaves. They hacked away desperately to get them free of their manacles, trying to cut through the solid iron or the beams to which the chains were secured. Meantime the hot flames were raging around them, and almost prevented them from performing their work of mercy. Still, in spite of the fire, the heat, and the smoke, and the possibility of being again blown up, the undaunted fellows laboured on. Numbers of the poor slaves had been liberated, and several children had been carried off who would otherwise have been left with their mothers to perish; but at last the terrific element gained the upper hand.
By this time the retreating slave-dealers had got completely out of sight, and when Lieutenant Hemming looked round and saw the number of men he had lost, and the disabled state of some of his boats, and of so many of his followers, he felt that he could in no way be justified in attempting to continue the pursuit. An officer often shows his bravery and fitness for command as much by his discretion and by holding back as by pushing forward.
Hemming was just one of these men. If he thought a thing ought to be done he did not stop to consider what others would say about it; he did it. He now ordered his party to collect, and having conveyed some of the lighter guns to the boats, and spiked and turned the others over into the mud, and set fire to what would burn in the fort, he ordered all hands to make preparations for embarking with the rescued slaves, as well as with four Spaniards, three of whom were wounded, and several negroes who had been captured. He had formed a plan which he hoped to carry out. Some time, however, was occupied in repairing two of the boats; one was so completely destroyed that he could not carry her off. Before all these arrangements were concluded, and the party were prepared to embark, it was late in the day. Hemming wanted, by a show of retreating, to throw the slave-dealers and negroes off their guard, and then to make a sudden dash up the stream and to come upon them unawares, having previously sent down the river to the ships some of the boats with the captured slaves. The rest of the officers agreed to the plan as soon as he propounded it to them, and Murray and Adair were consoled at the thoughts of soon being able to return and attempt Jack’s rescue. The state, however, of his wounded men, and the difficulty of navigating the river in the dark, compelled Hemming to bring up sooner than he had intended. A spot of high ground near the river which he thought might be easily defended induced him to land. Some bamboos and young trees were cut down to form a stockade, fires were lighted, sails were spread to form tents, and every preparation was made for passing the night.
“I only wish that Jack was here; he would enjoy this,” observed Paddy to Alick. “I say, by hook or by crook, we must get him out of the hands of those ruffians. I’ve been turning the matter over in my mind, and I am resolved, if Mr Hemming does not think fit to go back and try and rescue Jack, that I will make the attempt myself. I could very soon black myself all over, and a nigger’s costume will not take long to extemporise. I would soon frizzle up my hair, and with an old palm-leaf hat on the top of it, and my shirt with the tails hanging down and tied round the waist by a piece of rope-yarn, I should look every inch of me a blackamoor.”
“Capital,” observed Murray; “I’ll accompany you if we find better measures fail; but still I fear that we should run a great risk of being discovered by the blacks.”
“Not a bit of it,” answered Adair; “the very daring of the thing would throw them off their guard. They would never expect that two white people could so speedily turn themselves into niggers. Of course we must pretend to be dumb: though we can talk first-rate nigger gibberish in the berth, it won’t pass current, I fear, among the natives of these parts.”
