The Hero of Panama: A Tale of the Great CanalBrereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
General
The Hero of Panama: A Tale of the Great Canal
Brereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
Panama Canal (Panama) -- Juvenile fiction
George shouted. A man amongst the natives blew on a horn, while another
beat a drum. Then some forty of them launched themselves past the firing
line, and fell upon the charging enemy furiously. At once it became
evident that the fight was to be one to a finish. The men who had
followed George had without doubt the greatest hatred for those others,
and for that reason fought with a ferocity which was terrible. Shouts of
consternation came from the enemy at their sudden appearance. Men in
rear turned and fled, while those in the van came to a halt. Jaime
turned and beckoned to them. In the short space at his disposal he
threatened his followers. Then he and those with him were overwhelmed.
In one brief minute the rush of Jaime and his supporters was converted
into a mad retreat, with a band of dusky men in rear of them slashing
and cutting desperately. As for Jim and George, they were carried
forward by the natives, and, with the lusty Tom beside them, thrust
their way far in amongst the flying enemy, striking right and left with
their rifles. Nor was Tom satisfied with that. The negro was possessed
of enormous strength, and nothing could resist him. He dashed far beyond
his comrades, discarding his rifle. His ponderous fists shot out in
every direction, flooring the enemy; then, catching sight of Jaime
struggling amidst the natives, and possessed, it seemed, with the same
terror which had suddenly assailed them, Tom leapt at him, covering the
ground in enormous bounds, and easily clearing a path before him. In a
trice he was level with the robber, and though the latter turned and
endeavoured to bring a weapon to bear on the negro, the gallant Tom was
too quick for him. He had him by the collar in an instant, the fingers
of his right hand encircled the back of the neck, causing the wretch to
drop his revolver and shriek. Then, just as had happened earlier on, the
man was swung like a bale into the air, and was whirled above the heads
of the others.
"By de poker, but dis time yo not get 'way!" bellowed Tom, mad with
excitement. "Yo not get back to dem scum to lead dem against Missie
Sadie. See here, me break yo neck if yo move. Me crush ebery bone in yo
body. Yo hear dat? Den keep quiet or me pound yo to a jelly."
The miserable fellow was not able to move so much as a finger, so firmly
did Tom grip him; and if he imagined that his comrades would help him,
he was much mistaken. For they were terrified, and fled back to the
forest with George's men hanging on behind them. Indeed, in five minutes
there was not a trace of the enemy, save the numerous bodies which lay
in the open. There was only Jaime de Oteros, a prisoner now, cringing
at the feet of our hero, and looking askance at the panting men about
him.
"Now, sah," said Tom, drawing in a deep breath, "not want dis scum any
longer. Suppose we hang um straight off and so save heap ob trouble."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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