cry—so wery bitter and sharp like one knife—no, I tink it must have been woman."
"Almighty powers! Do you mean to say that the figure hung up between us and the fire is really and truly a human being?"
"I do," said Serjeant Quacco, with the same sang froid; "I do, massa. What you tink it was?"
I could not tell—I thought at one moment it was a fellow-creature, and at another that it must be impossible, notwithstanding all the hideous tales I had heard of the doings on this coast; but the truth, the horrible truth could no longer be concealed.
"It is only one man or woman prisoner dat dem are cutting in pieces, and trowing into de river." Here I saw with my glass that the other leg of the victim had been severed from the trunk. "But I sall tell you, dat dem intend to attack you dis wery night."
I heard him, but was riveted to my telescope. All struggles had ceased in the dark and maimed carcass, and presently one of the arms was cut away at the shoulder, when the bloody limb fell against the post on one side, and the mangled trunk banged against the upright on the other, and swung round and round it, making the whole engine reel; while, as the drums and shouts grew louder and louder, the other arm was also cut off at the elbow, and down came the mutilated trunk of the sacrifice into the middle of the fire, which for a moment blazed up, and shot forth showers of sparks and bright smoke, then rapidly declined, and in half a minute it was entirely extinguished.
The fires in the advanced boats were now all put out, and nothing evinced the neighbourhood of our dangerous enemy; while the lovely moon once more looked forth on us, her silver orb reflected on the arrowy streams of the dark river, in a long trembling wake of sparkling ripples, and all was as quiet as if she had been smiling on a scene of peace and gentleness.
To what peculiarity in my moral composition it was to be attributed I do not know, but the change from the infernal scene we had just witnessed to the heavenly quietude of a lovely night had an instantaneous, almost an electrical effect on me; and, wounded and ill at heart as I was, I could not help looking up, out and away from my grovelling condition, until in fancy I forgot my miserable whereabouts, and only saw the deep blue heaven, and its countless stars, and the chaste moon.
"Hillo, Benjie Brail," shouted friend Davie—"where away, my lad? Come back to mother earth"—("alma mater tellus," said a voice near me—Corporal Lennox for a thousand, thought I)—"my dear boy, the bright sky overhead, that I make no doubt you are apostrophising so poetically, will soon be shrouded by that brooding mist there—never doubt me."
He augured rightly; for, in a little, a thick haze did in very deed begin to mantle over the water, and continued to increase until the glorious planet and bright stars were again obscured, and you could scarcely see the length of the felucca.
Quacco's hint, however, was by no means thrown away on us; we immediately saw all clear to give our savage neighbours a warm reception, should they venture down under cover of the fog.
We had been some time at quarters, the boats astern having been hauled up alongside, lest, in the fog, some of the canoes might venture near enough to cut the painters. But every thing continued so quiet and still, that we were beginning to consider our warlike preparations might not altogether have teen called for.
"I say, Sprawl," said I—"Poo, these poor creatures will not venture down on us; especially after the lesson they had yesterday?"
"Don't trust to that, Brail, my good boy," said Davie.
"No, massa, don't you trust to dat, as Massa Prawl say," quoth Quacco—"I know someting—ah, you shall see." Here the poor fellow crept close up to Dick Lanyard, "Captain—if you love sleep in one skin hab no hole in him—if, massa, you walue de life of dem sailor intrust to you—ill-bred fellow as dem may be—let no one—no—not so mosh as de leetle dirty cook-boy—shut him eyelid until to-morrow sun melt de fog, and"——
Something dropped at my foot, with a splintering sort of sound, as if you had cast a long dry reed on the deck. "What is that?" said I.
"Will you be convince now?" said Quacco, slowly and solemnly. "Will Massa Brail,"—turning to me, and handing a slender wand, about ten feet long—"will good Massa Brail be convin"——
Spin—another arrow-like affair quivered in the mast close beside us. It had passed sheer between the first lieutenant and me.
"Ah, ah, ah!" exclaimed Quacco in a mighty great quandary—"dere is anoder—anoder spear—mind, gentlemen—mind, gentlemen, mind, or a whole feet of war-canoe will be aboard of you before you can look round."
"Men!" shouted Lanyard, "keep a bright lookout; there are native canoes cruising all about us, and close to, in the thick mist there. Peer about, will ye? Small-arm men, stand to your tackling—clear away both guns. Hush—what is that?"
"Nothing," said Sprawl—"I hear nothing but the rushing of the river, and the groaning and rubbing of the boats alongside against the gunwale."
"But I do," said Pumpbolt.
"And so do I," said Mr. Marline. "There is the splash of paddles as plain as can be—there"——
"Where?" said De Walden.
"There," said Binnacle—"there;" and, at the very instant, I saw the dark prow of one canoe emerge from the fog, the after-part being hid under the thick, but moon-illumined haze. Presently another appeared close to her, but less distinctly; both assuming a wavering and impalpable appearance, like two large fish seen, one near, and the other farther off, in muddy water.
"Mr. Marline, fire at that fellow nearest us."
The moment the musket was discharged, the canoe backed into the fog again, but we could plainly hear the splash and whiz of a number of paddles rapidly plied, as if in great alarm. But even these sounds soon ceased, and, once more, all was still. For half an hour after this, all hands remained on the qui vive, but the silence continued unbroken; so, after seeing the lookouts all right, Sprawl, Pumpbolt, and myself (as for Lanyard he would not leave the deck) went below to have a snack of supper, preparatory to making a start of it, if it were possible, whenever the swell on the bar was quieter.
"Tol lol de rol," sung ould Davie Doublepipe. "Oh Benjie Brail, Benjie Brail, are we never to get out of this Styx—out of this infernal river? What say you, Pumpbolt, my man?"
"I'll tell you more about it," said Pumpbolt, "when we have got some grub. But what Sir Oliver has done, or how he has managed without me, for these two days past, is a puzzler."
"Ah, bad for you master," said I. "He will find he can do without you—should not have given him the opportunity, man."
"No more I should—no more I should," responded the master.
So we set to our meal, and were making ourselves as comfortable as circumstances admitted, when Binnacle trundled down the ladder in red-hot haste.
"The canoes are abroad again, sir—we hear them close to, but the fog is thicker than ever."
"The devil!" said I; and we all hurried on deck.
Imminent peril is a beautiful antisoporitic, and we found all hands at quarters of their own accord—the devil a drum need to have been beaten.
"Where do you hear them—where is the
