The Log of the Flying Fish: A Story of Aerial and Submarine Peril and AdventureCollingwood, Harry
Science
The Log of the Flying Fish: A Story of Aerial and Submarine Peril and Adventure
Collingwood, Harry
Adventure stories; Sea stories
Unknown to and wholly unsuspected by them, the old crone who was in
charge of the gang of female labourers had, for some days past, been
keeping a sharply watchful eye upon the investigators, and upon the day
in question she had been, if possible, more sharply watchful than ever.
So interested in them did she at last become that, turning her back upon
the women and leaving them to work or not as they saw fit, she advanced
until she entered the shadow of the tent, where she paused, eagerly
scanning the features of the slumberers. For some ten minutes or so she
stood motionless as a statue, her sunken glittering eyes turning from
one placid face to the other; then she stepped to the baronet's side
and, seizing him by the shoulder, shook him sharply. The sleeper might
have been dead for all the consciousness which he exhibited at her rude
touch. Another and more violent shake proved equally unproductive of
results. Then she passed on to the colonel, to Mildmay, and to the
professor, experimenting in like manner with each. If she wished to
arouse them, her efforts were useless; they were, one and all, locked
fast in the embrace of sleep--profound, unnatural, death-like sleep. A
scornful laugh grated harshly from her lips, and, wheeling sharply upon
her heel, she rejoined the gang of excavators, exclaiming:
"Cease this useless labour; there is no further need of it. The witch-
potion has done its work, and you may all return to the village. I go
to summon the warriors."
The women, without further ado, gathered up their tools and baskets,
and, breaking into a low monotonous song, to which their feet kept time,
took the trail leading to the village, and soon disappeared among the
scattered ruins and the bush which clustered thickly about them.
Ten minutes later a band of dusky warriors, fully armed and numbering
about a hundred, made their appearance, and, led by Lualamba, advanced
to the tent, which they surrounded. Four grass hammocks, each of which
was stretched between two long bamboo poles, were then brought forward,
and, by the directions of the chief, the unconscious white men were
carefully lifted from their seats and deposited at full length in them.
The tent was then struck, and, with its simple furniture, taken in
charge by certain members of the band told off for the purpose, when
each of the hammocks, with its sleeping burden, was carefully raised
from the ground and shouldered by four savages, and, the remainder of
the warriors forming round them as an escort, the band took the trail to
the village, and marched rapidly away.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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