By Sheer Pluck: A Tale of the Ashanti WarHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
General
By Sheer Pluck: A Tale of the Ashanti War
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
Ashanti war, 1873-1874 -- Juvenile fiction
“Well, sar, I was landed, and I made my way to de place. It war no easy
matter. De niggers all say dey know no such person, but I found de next
post, and dere de man guided me to de path which led into de swamp. Dey
told me dey thought de ole man dead, for dat no one had come along to
dem from him for nigh two month. Well, sar, as I 'spected I found him
dead, and I buried him, and took up my place in de hut. Soon it became
known through de plantations round dat de hut was occupied again, and
dey began to come to me to ask for assistance. My 'structions war dat
only to enable a husband to join his wife, or a wife her husband, or in
cases where de masters were uncommon cruel, dat I was to send 'em along
by de underground railway. De risks was too great to be run often. If
we had tried to help ebery one to 'scape we should mighty soon hab been
hunted down.
“Well, sar, I libed dere for three year. It was a lonesome life. I
planted a few yams round de hut, and de plantation hands would bring me
tings dat dey got hold of. It was my duty when I found dat a case was ob
de proper description to arrange for de flight, de man or de woman would
come to my hut, and I would guide dem through de swamps, twenty-five
mile away, to de house ob a clergyman, which was de next station. I
would jus' knock in a 'ticular way at de door, and when dis was open
leab de party dere and go straight away back to de swamp. More dan once
de planters got up hunts and searched de swamp through and through for
me wid dogs, and my hut was twice burnt to de ground, but de slabes
always brought me notice in time, and I went away into de tickest part
ob de swamp and lay dar till dey had gone away.
“Well, sar, one time come, I bery busy, passed tree men away in two
week. One night me hear barking of dogs, and jump up jus' in time to see
party ob men coming out from de little path towards de hut. I ran for de
swamp. Dey fire at me and one ball hit me. Den I ran in to de swamp,
de dogs dey follow, but I get farder and farder away, and de swamp get
deeper, and me tink dey lose me altogether. I sit quiet on 'tump when I
hear someting splashing in swamp, and all of a sudden a big hound sprang
on me, and fix him teeth in my shoulder. I had no arms, for in de hurry
I had not time to catch dem up. De beast he growl and bite, and hold
on like death. I saw dere only one ting to do. I tumble forward into de
swamp wid de dog underneath me, and dere I lay, wid my mouf sometimes
above de water sometimes below, till de dog was drowned.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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