Again there was a long pause--a horn was sounded--then another--then a
wild confused yell, mingled with which the musketry again breezed up,
and we could hear, from the shouts of our people, that the covering
party at the boats had been assailed. When the first shot was fired,
the black resetter lifted his head, anxiously, as if to listen; but
seeing my eyes were fixed on him, he instantly dropped it again. But
the instant he heard the negro horns, the noise of their onset, and the
renewal of the firing, he started to his legs, as active as a lynx; and
before any of us could gather our senses about us, he was on the verge
of the wood; when all at once a thought seemed to come across him; he
stopped, and hung in the wind for a moment, as if irresolute whether to
bolt or turn back. At this moment one of our people let drive at him,
but missed him, although the ball nipped off a dry branch close above
his head. He instantly ran and laid hold of one of the pillars of the
frame that supported the abominable little idol. Another shot was
fired, when down tumbled his godship on the head of his worshipper, who
caught the image by the legs, and seeing some of our people rushing to
seize him, he let go his hold of the upright, and whirling the figure
round, holding on by its legs, he let drive with it at the man nearest
him, and dropped him like a shot. He then bolted out of sight, through
one of the several muddy paths that opened into the mangrove thicket
landward.
"No time to be lost, my lads," whistled old Davie; "keep
together;"--then, in his thorough bass, "Don't throw away a shot; so
now bring along your prisoners, and let us fall back on the
boats----that's it--march the Dons to the front--shove on, my fine
fellows--shove on."
The firing at the boats had by this time slackened, but the cries
increased, and were now rising higher and fiercer as we approached. We
reached the fort, the place of our former conflict. Heavens! what a
scene presented itself! It makes one's blood run cold to reflect on
it, even after the lapse of years. On the platform lay two Spaniards,
and close to them three of our crew, stark and stiff, and already
stripped naked as the day they were born, by whom Heaven only knows;
while half a dozen native dogs were tearing and _riving_ the yet
scarcely cold carcasses, and dragging the dead arms hither and thither,
until our near approach frightened them away, with a loud unearthly
scream, of no kindred to a common bark.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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