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
Frank came out and looked round. The Ashanti camp was deserted. Ammon
Quatia had moved away with the main body of his troops, although the
musketry fire round the village was kept up. A Fanti stood at the
door of the hut with Ostik. The four guards were sleeping quietly.
Noiselessly the little party stole away. A quarter of an hour later they
struck the path, and an hour's walking brought them to Assaiboo. Not an
Ashanti was met with along the path, but Frank hardly felt that he was
safe until he heard the challenge of “Who goes there?” from an English
sentry. A few minutes later he was taken before Captain Bradshaw, R.
N., who commanded the sailors and marines who had been left there. Very
hearty was the greeting which the young Englishman received from the
genial sailor, and a bowl of soup and a glass of grog were soon set
before him.
His arrival created quite a sensation, and for some hours he sat talking
with the officers, while Ostik was an equal subject of curiosity among
the sailors. The news that the Ashanti army was in full retreat relieved
the garrison of the place from all further fear of attack, and Frank
went to sleep before morning, and was only roused at noon when a
messenger arrived with the news that the Ashanti camp had been found
deserted, and that the road in its rear was found to be strewn
with chairs, clothes, pillows, muskets, and odds and ends of every
description. Few Ashanti prisoners had been taken, but a considerable
number of Fantis, who had been prisoners among them, had come in, having
escaped in the confusion of the retreat. Among these were many women,
several of whom had been captured when the Ashantis had first crossed
the Prah ten months before. In the afternoon Sir Garnet Wolseley, with
the greater portion of the force from Abra Crampa, marched in, and Frank
was introduced by Captain Bradshaw to the general. As the latter was
anxious to press on at once to Cape Coast, in order that the sailors
and marines might sleep on board ship that night, he asked Frank to
accompany him, and on the road heard the story of his adventures. He
invited him to sleep for the night at Government House, an invitation
which Frank accepted; but he slept worse than he had done for a long
time. It was now nearly two years since he had landed in Africa, and
during all that time he had slept, covered with a rug, on the canvas of
his little camp bed. The complete change, the stillness and security,
and, above all, the novelty of a bed with sheets, completely banished
sleep, and it was not until morning was dawning that, wrapping himself
in a rug, and lying on the ground, he was able to get a sleep. In the
morning at breakfast Sir Garnet asked him what he intended to do, and
said that if he were in no extreme hurry to return to England he could
render great services as guide to the expedition, which would start for
Coomassie as soon as the white troops arrived. Frank had already thought
the matter over.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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