O'er Many Lands, on Many Seas by Gordon Stables (top 10 most read books in the world .txt) 📕

and one of the dhows ran up even under our guns, and picked him out of

the water.

"Then both got clear away."

"Like mountain cat that guards its young.

Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung."

Scott.

"He watched me like a lion's whelp,

That gnaws and yet may break its chain."

Byron.

"Ben Roberts, dear old friend," I said, as soon as the captain had

finished. "I remember that sea-fight which you have just so graphically

described."

"And pray," said he, "what and how much of it could you remember, seeing

you were down below, and were so well used to guns thundering over your

baby head, that you often went to sleep during general quarters? Now,

just you tell me."

"Well," I replied, "I suppose it must have been the collision at the

conclusion, for I was knocked all of a heap off the chair, and the Ay-ay

and I threw ourselves into each other's arms and wept."

"Yes, lad, and I found you, when I went down to my cabin, in each

other's arms, and both fast asleep."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

I myself, dear reader, must now resume the thread of my narrative, from

the place where Captain Roberts gives it up.

When the crew of the _Niobe_ returned to their native land from the

Cape, and the new crew joined, I remained with my foster-father--my dear

old sea-dad.

From the Cape we sailed straight to Bombay, it being found that the old

_Niobe_ would require to go into dry dock.

I remember being dazzled with all I saw in Bombay, except those terrible

Towers of Silence, on which the dead bodies of the Parsees are exposed

to be devoured by birds. What I think struck me most was the gorgeous

dresses of the natives, and the enormous amount of gold and silver

ornaments they wore about them; bangles, and bracelets, and jewelled

noselets, and ear-rings as big as cymbals, or the brass plates that

barbers hang out in front of their doors. If I wondered at the natives,

the natives wondered at me--the piccaninny sailor-boy, as they called

me--for I was now dressed out quite like a man-o'-war's man.

From Bombay we returned to our cruising ground, which was at that time

called the Cape station, and stretched all along the entire east coast

of Africa, from the Cape to the Red Sea, including not only Madagascar

with its circlet of tiny islets, but Mozambique, the Comoro Islands, and

Seychelles as well. Were I to tell you all my adventures on these

shores, I should have no space to devote to sketches probably quite as

interesting.

Let me come then as speedily as I may to the one great event of my life:

my capture by that arch-fiend Zareppa, and my treatment while a prisoner

for ten long years in the wildest part of the interior of Africa.

As soon as we reached Zanzibar, I being then of the ripe age of six

years, the captain called me aft, and Roberts the boatswain came along

with me.

"My man," said the captain to me, "You are six now, and it is high time

you were rated."

I began to cry. A rating I thought meant a flogging, and I had seen

poor fellows tied up over and over again and flogged until the blood

gushed out of their backs.

"It is nothing," said the kindly captain; "I'm going to make a man of

you."

"Oh!" I said, and wiped my eyes.

"But," continued the captain laughing, "We'll make a second-class boy of

you first."

Roberts laughed now.

"I'll teach him sir," he said, saluting the captain, "to splice and reef

and steer."

"Well, away you go," said the captain, "and see, my little man, that you

do all you are told."

I touched my forelock, and went away forward with the good boatswain; so

proud that I'm sure I didn't feel my feet touching the deck.

My education had begun long before; it continued now, and I hope I did

my duty.

For the next four years we had plenty of chasing of ships, plenty of

cruising, plenty of jollity and fun, both on shore and afloat, and now

and then a pitched battle.

We had never seen Zareppa again, but we had often and often heard of

him. We knew that he was in the habit of marching into the interior

upon peaceful negro villages lying about the Equator, burning them, and

capturing the inhabitants as slaves.

Oh! boys at home, if you but knew the horrors of the slave trade; if you

could but realise even a tithe of the misery and wretchedness and

fearful crimes included in that one word "slavery," as applied to Africa

alone, you would not deem yourself entitled to the proud name of British

boy, until you had registered a vow to do all that may ever lie in your

power, be that little or be it much, by deeds or by words alone, to wipe

out the curse.

Had you seen what I have seen of it, had you sojourned where I have

sojourned, you would have witnessed deeds that would harrow your mind to

think of even till your dying day.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

My life on board the _Niobe_ was altogether a very pleasant one; the

best part of it was the long glorious cruises we used to have in open

boats. Fancy, if you can, going away in a well-found boat, away from

your ship entirely for, perhaps, a month or six weeks at a time, in the

glorious summer weather, with the blue sky above, the blue sea below,

and hardly ever more wind than sufficed to cool and fan you, and to

raise the sea into a gentle ripple. We cruised along the coast, we

cooked our food on shore--and oh! what jolly "spreads" they used to be,

what soups, what stews!--we cruised along the coast, and we sailed or

pulled up rivers, and into many a lovely wooded creek, going everywhere,

in fact, where there was a chance of capturing a slaver, or of making a

prize. When the slave ships ran we chased them, when they fired on us

we fought them, and they were always beaten. They might win a race, but

never a battle. We were some fifty men strong; we never stopped,

therefore, for an invitation to go on board; we went, sword or cutlass

in hand, and they were bound to give way.

But to me, I think, the glad sense of being away from the ship and of

leading a free and roving life, was the greatest part of the pleasure,

and I used to be so sorry when we bore up at last for the rendezvous

where we were to meet our ship.

That, then, was the bright side of the picture of my life in these glad

old days. And I must confess that it really had not a dark one,

although sadness used to steal over my heart, when letters came from

what others called home--England.

Home! To me the word had no other meaning except the wide ocean, and

yet when I saw others reading their letters with such joy depicted on

every countenance, well--it was very foolish of me, no doubt--but I used

to steal away into some quiet corner, and weep.

"Now, my lad," cried Roberts to me one day. "Get that twopenny-ha'penny

cutlass of yours out, and prepare to go on shore. We're going up

country to fight those rascally Arabs. We are going to storm Zareppa's

own stronghold."

"Hurrah!" I shouted; "And you will really take me with you, Mr

Roberts?"

"That I will, lad; and you're not your father's son unless you know how

to behave yourself in presence of a foe."

I said nothing; but at that moment I almost thought that Roberts

instigated an act on my part, which followed some days after this. Had

he not mentioned Zareppa and my father in two consecutive sentences--my

father and my father's slayer?

"Oh!" I said inwardly, "could I but meet the man face to face!" What a

childish thought, you will say, for a mere stripling, with a

twopenny-ha'penny cutlass! The cutlass, by the way, was a middy's dirk,

of which I felt very proud indeed.

The boats were called away. The expedition against the Arab stronghold

was going to be "a big thing," as Roberts said, so every man that could

be spared from the ship joined it.

Our guide was poor Sweeba. This negro had but one thought in life;

namely, to avenge the murder of his family. I'm afraid that revenge is

a very human though an improper feeling; and it is easy enough to

understand, without attempting to justify, Sweeba's thirst for

vengeance. I hope that I myself shall never forget that Bible text

which says--

"Vengeance is Mine, I will repay."

The utmost caution was necessary in passing up through the forest and

jungle, for we were surrounded by enemies on all sides. However, we

made forced marches in silence and all by night, and in three days'

time, being favoured by fortune, we arrived in front of Zareppa's

stronghold, and within two miles of the place. We lay closely hidden

till daybreak, a good two hours, sending Sweeba forward to scout. He

returned shortly with the intelligence that the Arabs were in great

force, and had both camels and cavalry, and that they had also thrown up

a strong earthwork on the hill around their position.

Before sunrise we were ready; a mere band we were, but a brave one,

about one hundred and twenty in all, bluejackets and marines. Ere the

sun had mounted over the forest land we were close upon Zareppa's

position, and in the darkness our fellows had even cut out a company of

war and baggage camels. It was here that the fighting first began, but

taken by surprise, the camel-drivers, after a faint show of resistance,

fled hurriedly up towards the fort.

It was now daylight, but the beams of the sun were sadly shorn by the

smoke that arose from the fort as a tremendous volley was fired to check

our advance. Under cover of this volley down thundered the foe to the

charge. But little more than two hundred yards intervened between the

fort and our fellows. Yet many a horse lost its rider, many a brave and

stately Arab bit the dust, ere the enemy reached us.

I cannot describe what followed. No one can give an account of anything

save his own experience in a fight like this. The enemy fought with

terrible courage. Again and again were they foiled, again and again did

they return to the charge with redoubled determination. They leaped on

our very bayonets, over their own wounded, and their dead and dying fell

together in heaps. But all in vain. Zareppa at last, despairing of

success, withdrew his daring followers.

"Now, lads," cried our commander, "follow me into the fort. They have

shown us how Arabs fight; we will now show them what true Britons can

The wild "Deen! deen!" of the Arab is nothing in strength of volume to

the stern British "Hurrah!" It is a war-cry that has struck terror into

the hearts of foemen on every land on which the sun shines. It is a

war-cry that means business. It meant business to-day, as our fellows

dashed up that hill and entered the fort. Then the fighting commenced

in deadly earnest; the Arabs had leaped from their chargers, which were

held in readiness in the rear, and fought with swords only, even their

spears being for a time discarded. Our fellows fought with sword, with

bayonet, or with butt-end, and men fell fast on both sides.

Only once during this fight Roberts was near me, but then his good sword

saved me from a fearful cut. "Back to the rear, boy," I heard him yell;

"you're too young for this work."

But, look! yonder is the chief, yonder is Zareppa. Though I had never

seen him before, an instinct seemed to tell me that that was the man who

had slain my father. I flew at him--foolishly enough, no doubt--flew at

him as if I had been a