With Cochrane the DauntlessHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
General
With Cochrane the Dauntless
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
Biographical fiction; Dundonald, Thomas Cochrane, Earl of, 1775-1860
At times he fancied he saw men approaching, but only to find that his
imagination had converted trees into moving objects. He had long since
left the edge of the inundation. He was parched with thirst, his mind
wandered, incoherent cries proceeded from his parched lips. At last he
thought he saw a native village before him; as he drew towards it figures
came out from the huts and gazed at him. A moment later he fell headlong
to the ground, and lay there insensible.
When he came to himself he felt so weak that he could neither turn nor
raise his head, but lay wondering vaguely where he was. As he looked
upwards he thought he was still dreaming, for the well-known face of Pita
was looking down upon him.
“Do you know me?” It was certainly Pita’s voice, and being unable to move,
Stephen closed his eyelids quickly in reply to the question.
“The saints be praised!” the Indian exclaimed, using the ejaculation
common among the Peruvians. “He knows me, Hurka—he is sensible again,
after all this time.”
Hurka hurried up on the other side of Stephen. “It is true!” he exclaimed;
“he knows me also.”
The Indian brought a gourd, and poured some liquor into Stephen’s mouth.
“Do not talk,” he said; “we shall have plenty of time for that later on.”
Stephen closed his eyes obediently. Even now he was not certain but that
he was still in a dream. So many times of late he had had a vague fancy
that his Indian guides were still with him that he doubted the evidence
both of eye and ear. However, he soon went off to sleep again. When he
awoke, Hurka was at hand, and ready to pour some hot broth down his
throat. It was long before he was strong enough to ask questions, and the
Indian positively refused to talk. At last the time came when he was able
to be propped up into a sitting position on his bed, which was composed of
leaves covered with blankets.
“I am strong enough to hear about it now, Pita. Tell me where I am and how
you come to be here.”
“Hurka will tell,” the Indian replied; “it is a long talk.”
Stephen looked to Hurka, who at once began.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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