The Cruise of the Midge. Michael Scott

spread out, and quivered like aspen leaves, as he held them up towards heaven in an attitude of supplication. There—he is gone.

      By the time the last of our stragglers had dragged their weary limbs into the enclosure, the shouting and firing again waxed warm in the direction of the boats; so we made all sail towards them the instant we had scrambled over the rude stockade, leaving the other wounded Spaniard, who lay in a harder part of the mud, to his fate, notwithstanding the poor fellow's heart-piercing supplication not to be left to perish in so horrible a manner as his comrade, who had just disappeared. We advanced as rapidly as we could, and presently came in sight of this new scene of action. The boats were filled with our people who had been left to guard them, but were still aground, although the flood was fast making. They had evidently made the most desperate attempts to get them afloat, and had been wading up to their waists in the mud. Four white Spaniards were blazing away at them, and at least one hundred and fifty naked negroes were crowding round the head of the creek, and firing from half-a-dozen old rusty muskets, and throwing spears made of some sort of hard wood burnt at the ends, while several were employed cutting down the mangroves and throwing them into the mud, so as to be able to pass over them like a mat, and get at the boats. One or two of the demon-like savages were routing on bullocks' horns, while six or seven had already fallen wounded, and lay bellowing and struggling on the ground before the well-directed fire of our people.

      "Advance, Mr. Sprawl, for the love of heaven," the midshipman in charge of the party in the boats sung out—"advance, or we are lost; our ammunition is almost out."

      Our own danger made it sufficiently evident, without this hint, that our only chance of safety was by a desperate effort to drive our opponents back into the wood, and there keep them at bay until the boats floated.

      "Ay, ay, my boys," cried Lanyard, "keep your fire—don't run short."

      "Confound you, don't fire," shouted Mr. Sprawl, "or you will hit some of us," as several of the boat's crew nearest us continued, notwithstanding, to pepper away; then, to his own people—"Follow me, men; if we don't drive them into the wood, as Mr. Lanyard says, till the tide makes, we are lost."

      "Hurrah!" shouted the brave fellows, "give them a touch of the pike and cutlass, but no firing.—Hurrah!"

      When we charged them, the negroes and their white leaders were in an instant driven into the recesses of the jungle, but not before we had captured three more of the Spaniards and seven of their black allies. Our object being in the mean time attained, we called a halt, and sent back a man to the boats, with orders to advise us the moment they were afloat. Worn out and feeble as most of the party were, from want of food and fatigue, many fell asleep in a moment, leaning against trees, or slipped down on the twisted roots of the mangroves. Every thing had continued quiet for about a quarter of an hour, no sound being heard beyond an occasional shout or wild cry in the recesses of the brushwood, when all at once the man we had despatched to the rear, came rushing up to us at the top of his speed.

      "The boats will be afloat in ten minutes, sir."

      "Thank heaven, thank heaven," I exclaimed.

      "But an Eboe canoe," continued the man, suddenly changing my joy into sadness, "with more than fifty people on board, is now paddling up the creek."

      "The devil!" exclaimed Mr. Sprawl, "are we never to get clear of this infernal corner?" And then recollecting who he was, and where he was, and that the lives of the whole party were dependent on his courage and self-possession, he rose, calm and resolute, from where he had sat himself down on the root of a bush.

      "Men, we may go to the right about now and be off to the boats—so send the wounded forward; the officers and marines will bring up the rear. So heave ahead, will ye? but no rushing now—be cool, for the credit of the ship."

      The instant we retreated, the sound of the negro horns and drums again commenced, showing that our movements were watched; the yells rose higher than ever, and dropping shots whistled over-head, clipping off a leaf here and a dry branch there. We sculled along, the noises behind us increasing, until we once more reached the head of the creek. The boats were by this time not afloat exactly, but the advance of the tide had so thinned the mud, that it was clear, if we could once get the people on board, we should have little difficulty in sliding them into deep water. However, the nearest could not be got within boat-hook length of the bank, and two of the oars being laid out to form a gangway, no sooner did the first seaman step along them, than—crack—one gave way, and the poor fellow plumped up to the waist in the mud. If we were to get disabled in our fins, certain destruction must ensue; this was palpable to all of us; so we had to scramble on board through the abominable stinking slime the best way we could, without risking any more of the ash staves. In the mean time the uncouth noises and firing in the rear came nearer and increased.

      "So now, hand the prisoners on board, and place them beside their comrades there," shouted Mr. Sprawl.

      Easier said than done. Taking advantage of the uproar, they had hung back, and now as the first of the savages appeared from under the green trees, evidently with an intention of again attacking us, they fairly turned tail, and before we could prevent them, they were off, and for ever beyond our ken. The last of our people had got on board, all to a poor boy, who had been badly wounded, indeed ham-strung with a knife, and as he had fainted on the brink from pain and loss of blood, for a moment he had been forgotten. But only for a moment.

      "God help me, God help me," said I, "why, it is poor little Graham, my own servant; shove close to, and let me try to get him on board." The lad spoken of was a slight brown-haired boy, about fifteen years of age. The sound of my voice seemed to revive him; he lifted his head; but the four Spanish prisoners, whom we had secured on board, on the instant, as if moved by one common impulse, made a bound overboard; although they sank up to the waist, they made a desperate attempt to reach the bank; the leading one, who seemed to have been an officer, shouting out to their allies in the wood, "Camaradas, una golpe bueno, y somos salvados—una golpe fuerte, y somos libres." This was the signal for a general rush of the combined column from the thicket; the black naked savages, led on by the white crew of the slaver. As they rushed down to the brink, the poor wounded lad made a desperate attempt to rise; and as he ran a step or two staggering towards the creek, he looked behind him at the negroes, who were advancing with loud shouts. He then, with his face as pale as ashes, and lips blue as indigo, and eyes starting from the socket, called out, "For the dear love of Jesus, shove ahead, and save me; Oh! Mr. Sprawl, save me! Mr. Brail, for God Almighty's sake, don't desert me, Oh sir!" A black savage had rushed forward and seized him—I fired—he dropped, dragging the boy down with him; and I could see him in his agony try to tear him with his teeth, while the helpless lad struggled with all his might to escape from the dying barbarian. He did get clear of him; and with a strength that I could not believe he had possessed, he once more got on his legs, and hailed me again; but the uproar was now so loud, and the firing so hot, that I could not hear what he said.

      "The boats are afloat, the boats are afloat!" shouted twenty voices at once. At this very moment a negro caught the lad round the waist, another laid hold of him by the hair, and before he could free himself, the latter drew his knife round his neck—the next instant the trunk, with the blood gushing from the severed arteries, was quivering amongst the mud, while the monster held aloft the bleeding head with its quivering and twitching features.

      "Heaven have mercy on us—Heaven have mercy on us!" said I; but we were now widening our distance fast, although I could see them strip the body with the speed of the most expert camp-follower; and while the Spaniards on shore were, even under our fire, trying to extricate their comrades, all of them wounded, who were floundering in the slime and ooze, their black allies were equally active in cutting up and mutilating the poor boy with the most demoniacal ferocity and. … . I dare not attempt further description of a scene so replete with horror and abomination. We poled along, with all the little strength that a day of such dreadful incidents, and a climate of the most overpowering heat and fearful insalubrity, had left us. At length the creek widened so as to allow us to ply our oars, when we perceived the large Eboe war-canoe, already mentioned, in the very act of entering the narrow canal we were descending. As we approached, we had an opportunity of observing