Mass' George Part 96

"Says, sir, that he cannot take your hand, but respects you all the same."

At that moment the Spaniards began firing, and this roused our men into replying, a sufficiently perilous position for the group between them, till the young officer ran towards his men, holding up his sword; but before the Spaniards had ceased our fire was silenced, for I saw the General run here and there, shouting angrily.

"That was a risky proceeding of yours, Preston," said the General, as the colonel came back within the fence.

"Yes, sir; a foolish, undisciplined act," replied the colonel; "but I felt carried away by the bravery of that young fellow, deserted as he was by his cowardly crew."

"I cannot blame you," said the General, "for I felt similarly moved."

Little more was said, for every one was intent upon the proceedings of the enemy, who drew back about a hundred yards, and then formed up with military precision, apparently previous to making a determined advance together; but a full hour pa.s.sed, and no advance was made. Two officers came ash.o.r.e from the s.h.i.+p with ten more men, and we were all kept in a state of tension, momentarily expecting to have to defend ourselves against a desperate attack.

But none came, and soon after the whole force marched down to the boats and embarked, while a couple of hours later the s.h.i.+p was going slowly down the big river with the tide.

Now it might have been expected that on seeing this our men would have burst into a triumphant cheer, but they did not, but stood watching the s.h.i.+p in silence. For there seemed to be something too solemn for words or any display of exultation. Utterly worn out with fighting and watching, and feeling as if we had all been rescued from death, men moved about gravely and quietly, and I saw group after group where gentlemen and ordinary working men, old soldiers who had come out there to that pleasant land believing they had for ever turned their swords into shares and pruning-hooks, were seated holding the hands of their wives, and with their children on their knees, their heads bent, and the tears streaming down the women's faces; and I know that a heartfelt thanksgiving went silently up to heaven that night for the escape we had all had.

But still there was the feeling of insecurity afloat, which caused the greatest precautions to be taken. The forest was not far distant, and for aught we knew the Indians might again come on.

So sentries were placed, to be relieved after short watches, and I fully intended to take my turn when I lay down; but, just as it was once before, almost as I began thinking, all became blank, and the next thing I remember was waking up, feeling ashamed of my neglect, to find that once more it was broad day.

CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR.

Morgan and I had more than one long talk that next day about the Spaniards and the pusillanimous way in which they had behaved; but not until a good deal had been done to make our tent comfortable, and that in which poor Sarah was lying, mending fast, but still very weak. A great deal too had to be done for the wounded, who bore their sufferings with wonderful patience, and were delighted when I went and sat with them, and talked over the different phases of the fight.

Morgan was sentry once more in the afternoon, and after seeing my father comfortably asleep, I went across to him, where he was keeping a sharp look-out for the Indians; but so far there had been no sign, and we began talking about the wounded, and how long it would be before they were stirring again.

"Ah, a long time, sir," he said. "You can make a man weak with a shot or a cut with a sword. It's done in a moment, but it takes months to make one strong."

"I say, Morgan," I whispered, "don't you think the General ought to have a place dug and made for that powder?"

He turned sharply and looked me full in the eyes, but instead of answering my question, he said--

"You see, Master George, they were regularly cheated over us."

"Who were--the Indians?"

"The Indians? No; the Spanish."

"He will not talk about the powder business," I said to myself. "He always turns it off."

"You see, sir," he continued, as he softly rubbed the barrel of his piece to get rid of some of the rust that had encrusted it, "they expected to find us a set of quiet spade-and-hoe-and-wheelbarrow sort of people, quite different to them, as are looked upon as being so warlike and fierce."

"And so we are, Morgan."

"And so we are, lad. We came out here to dig and live, and be at peace, with our barrows; but that doesn't mean that we haven't got the fighting stuff in us, ready for use when it's wanted. I don't want to fight, and I save my fists for digging, but they are fists all the same, sir."

"Yes, of course."

"Yes, of course, sir. But they Spanish didn't understand that. They thought that in spite of what was said last time they came, all they had to do was to make a show, and order us off, and we should go; so they made a show by shooting at the Indians; and I'll be bound to say that every time the Spanish officers cried 'fire!' they thought they were frightening us too."

"But they didn't, Morgan."

"Not a bit, sir. Wrong stuff. They made a great big mistake, and when they get back to Flori--what is it?"

"Florida."

"Ah, Florida, I should say there'll be a good bit o' trouble, for they were meant to do more than they contrived. You see, when they fired, the Indians ran, and they followed them up, and fired again, and the Indians ran faster. Then by and by they came and fired at us."

"And we did not run, Morgan."

"No, sir, not a bit; and as somebody had to run--one side must, you see--why, they did. You see we didn't look nice. We'd been at it, look you, and got the marks of battle on us to show that we could do something, and it was rather startling to men coming on to attack a place. First beginning of fighting one feels a bit squeamish; after that one don't. We'd got over our squeamishness; they hadn't, for I don't count their bit of firing as anything. Think they'll come back, sir?"

"If they do, it will be with a war-s.h.i.+p, and great guns," I said. "Not as they did this time."

"Then I don't think they'll come at all, sir, for bringing a war-s.h.i.+p means big business, and our having war-s.h.i.+ps too to keep them off. Do you know, I begin to think that we shall have a holiday now, so as to go back home."

Day after day glided by, and in the rest and relief it seemed as if quite a new life was opening out for us. My father was mending rapidly, and Sarah was well enough to insist upon busying herself about many little matters to add to our comfort. Hannibal only seemed to me to be dull and quiet, while Pomp was at me every day about going out somewhere, and looked as if he were a prisoner chained by the leg when told that he must not stray from camp.

There had been repeated discussions, so my father told me, over the all-important question of giving up our watchful life, and beginning once more to take to that of peace; but it was still deemed advisable to wait, and another week glided away, made memorable by the deaths of two of the brave fellows who had been wounded.

It was the evening after the last of these two had been sadly laid in his resting-place, that Morgan startled me by saying suddenly--

"He's only a black, certainly, Master George, but somehow one's got to like him."

"Why, what has Pomp been doing now?" I said.

"I was talking about his father, sir."

"Hannibal? Well, what of him? I haven't seen him to-day--no; now I come to think of it, nor yesterday neither."

"No; he hasn't been up."

"Why, Morgan," I said, "I was out round the plantations yesterday with Colonel Preston, and I've been with my father and Sarah all to-day; is poor old Hannibal ill?"

"Very bad, I think, sir. I asked the doctor to go and see him."

I ran off to the rough tent he and Pomp had contrived for themselves, and to my horror I found the doctor inside, and that my father had contrived to get there by the help of a couple of sticks.

"I didn't know Han was ill," I exclaimed.

"Hus.h.!.+ Don't speak loud," said the doctor. "The poor fellow is in a serious condition."

I crept into the hut to find Pomp on his knees by his father's head, and with his face buried in his hands, while a startled feeling came over me as I saw how still and helpless the great broad-shouldered giant lay, his brow wrinkled up, and his cheeks hollow; but his countenance changed as he caught sight of me.

"Ma.s.s' George," he said, and he tried to raise one of his hands.

"Oh, Hannibal!" I cried. "I did not know you were so ill. Pomp, why didn't you tell me?"