Cradock Nowell: A Tale of the New Forest. Vol. 3 (of 3)Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
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Cradock Nowell: A Tale of the New Forest. Vol. 3 (of 3)
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
New Forest (England : Forest) -- Fiction
This was not not by any means the sort of thing he had bargained for;
and he became, to state the matter mildly, most decidedly nervous.
He saw that there were invading him five great double canoes, each
containing ten or twelve men; and he had no gun, nor a pinch of powder.
Very likely they were cannibals, and would roast him slowly, to brown
him nicely, and then serve up Wena for garnish. He shook so up there
among the rough branches—for he did not so very much mind, being
killed, but he could not bear to be eaten—that Wena began to howl down
below, and he was obliged to come down to quiet her.
Then he tied up black Wena, and muzzled her, to her immense
indignation, with a capistrum of mowana bark, which quite foreclosed
her own, and then he crept warily through the woods to observe his
black brethrenʼs proceedings. They were very near the shore by this
time, and making straight for the traderʼs hut, of which they had
doubtless received some account. Cradock felt his courage rising,
and therewith some indignation, for he knew that the goods could not
be theirs, and by this time he considered himself in commission as
supercargo. So he resolved to save the store from pillage, if it were
possible, even at the risk of his life.
For this purpose he lay down in a hollow place by the water–side, where
he could just see over the tide–bank without much fear of discovery,
at least, till the robbers had passed the shed, which, of course,
was their principal object. It was evidently a king of men who stood
at the prow of the foremost canoe, with a javelin in his great black
hand, poised and ready for casting. His apparel consisted of two great
ear–drops, two rings upon his right wrist, and one below either knee;
also a chain of teeth was dangling down his brawny bosom. He was
painted red, and polished highly, which had to be done every morning;
and he looked as dignified and more powerful than a don or dean. One
man in each boat was painted and polished—doubtless the sign of high
rank and great birth.
When the bottom of the double canoe grated upon the beach, the negro
king flung back his strong arm, and cast at the shed his javelin. It
passed through the roof and buried itself in the body of the fetich,
which swung horribly to and fro, while the crinoline moved round
it. Hereupon a yell arose from the invading flotilla, and every man
trembled, waiting to see what would come of such an impiety. Finding
that nothing at all ensued, for Cradock had not the presence of mind
to advance at the moment, they gave another yell and landed, washing a
great deal of red from their legs. But the king was brought ashore,
dry and bright, sitting on some officers’ shoulders. Then they came up
the bank, without any order, but each with his javelin ready, and his
eyes intent on the idol. How Cradock longed for a piece of packthread,
to have set the dried codfish dancing!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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