CHAPTER XXV
DESPERATION
No, the peril was none the less to any of the villagers, and greatlyincreased to the Englishmen, for the natives began to look darkly atthem.
Kirke had made them all leave their inflammable houses, perched likedovecots high upon poles, and had encamped in a little clearance at theedge of the jungle.
This he insisted upon enlarging to the best of their ability, cuttingdown all cover beneath which the dacoits could steal upon themunperceived. So dense was the scrub that this was hard work, and theBurman hates hard work.
Kirke, with British energy, set the example himself, hacking, hewing,and felling, with promptitude which was far from being seconded. Hecaused the debris to be built up around a circle, within which heentrenched the women and children, with all the household effects thatcould be gathered together, and would fain have thrown up earthworks tothe best of his ability, but the Burmans would not dig them out.
He insisted upon the houses which remained being cut down from theirelevations, lest the dacoits should succeed in mounting to them, andfiring down upon the camp; and this annoyed the short-sighted ownersmore than anything else.
"Why should we destroy our houses?" they said. "The dacoits are gonenow. We have given them the fire to eat, and they have had enough of it.We wear the charm against fire and sword, the blessed nats will protectus, ours are stronger than theirs; and the houses must be put up againbefore the next flood-time comes."
"True," argued Kirke, "but meantime you may be all killed. The dacoitsare certain to return, perhaps in much greater force. They will comedetermined to avenge the deaths of their friends, and they also wearcharms. You must take measures for your own safety. Cannot you get helpfrom any neighbours strong enough to protect you? Is there no Englishstation within reach? Could no scout be sent to any Britishpolice-station, to tell them of our need and beg assistance? There mustbe some such place. Cannot we send word to Rangoon?"
The Burmans looked at each other. They knew well enough that there was apolice-station within twenty miles of them, but they had concealed thefact from Kirke because they wanted his money. He had brought prosperityto them, and they did not want to lose him. He had proved to be aperfect godsend to them hitherto; but it was plain to them that thereputation of this very prosperity had partly caused the dacoits toassail them.
Would it be best for them now to keep the Englishmen with them longer,and fight the robbers themselves, or to make capital out of helping themto return to their friends, who, out of gratitude, would come and killthe dacoits for them?
The question was hotly debated in the village conclave.
Moung Shway Poh was jealous of Kirke's ascendency. He felt his authoritytottering on its throne. Kirke spoke to him in a dictatorial tone, andordered him about just as if he had been the veriest child, stilluntattooed; and the old man hated him.
"We have the strangers with us," said he, "just as much as if we sent tothe station and had the officers, who would bring good guns, big guns,kill the thieves, and save our houses. They would give us rewards forhelping their countrymen; pay for the dacoits' heads--be a revenue to usfor all next year. We should have plenty of rice, plenty of smoke,plenty of everything from them. This man has spent all he has now, hecannot have much left; and the boy has nothing at all, though he musteat and be clothed."
But the other side was represented by the sons of the man who was cutdown and mutilated by the cruel dahs of the dacoits,--by the children ofthe poor woman who, with her infant, had shared in her husband's fate,and whose grandmother and little sister had been saved by Ralph.
Other victims had also fallen, and their relations thirsted to avengeblood by blood. They were eager to kill the dacoits themselves. To them,in that case, would belong the glory; to them would the butterflyspirits of the victims be grateful; to them would the price of thedacoits' heads be paid, which would be lost to them if the police shotthem instead.
Kirke, having superintended all the defences which he could prevail uponthe Burmans to make, sat by the side of Ralph, who was sleepingprofoundly on his mat, and watched the council--debating at a littledistance--with great anxiety.
He knew well what issues were under discussion; he had gauged thecharacters of these men accurately during his residence with them, andwas convinced that they would treat him like an orange which had beensucked dry, and of which the rind was only flung away.
He could have escaped by himself, and his resources, though nearlyexhausted, were not yet quite at an end. He had enough left to hire orpurchase a tat,[3] or pay for a passage in the big rice boat, and somake his way to an English settlement, where he could take his chance ofpunishment for his conduct on board the _Pelican_, and await remittancesfrom home.
Since meeting with Denham, his apprehensions of the consequences of hiscrime had dwindled down. No lives had been lost, much time had elapsed,and he had been of material service to Ralph. He was assured by Ralphthat Mr. Gilchrist wished him no harm, and would prove placable.
But it would be better for him to give himself up, rather than to betaken prisoner by English police; he would much prefer making his ownway to Rangoon to being sent there as a captive.
Yet he could not abandon Ralph, who was in no state for a hurriedjourney taken under the difficulties which must attend an escape. Evennow the boy was muttering and rambling in his sleep, the fever wasrising higher with the approach of nightfall, and the wound in his legwas terribly inflamed. Kirke changed the dressing, bathed it and Ralph'shead and face with cool water, and changed his hot pillow. Ralph lookedgratefully up at him as he woke up completely.
"You are very good to me, old fellow," said he. "I am sorry to be such anuisance; but, somehow, I feel very stiff and queer, and my head rages."
"All right," said Kirke, a lump rising in his throat as he gazed uponhis friend, so dear to him now. "All right, we will win through thisworry soon. You are better."
"Yes, I'm better," said Ralph, with a mighty effort at cheerfulness.
"Drink this," said Kirke, offering some water to him; "go to sleepagain, there is nothing else to be done, and I'm watching."
Ralph drank the water, and soon fell into a calmer, more refreshing,slumber.
Kirke went to examine his store of ammunition, and became graver thanever, for he found that it was running extremely short. There was nomethod by which he might replenish his powder; but the dacoits, with thewhole country behind them, could get practically inexhaustible supplies.
Kirke heaved a sigh, and sat down once more by the sleeping boy.
It was growing dark, but the council still argued and disputed at alittle distance from the circle entrenched, and words were running highamong its members.
All at once a shot was heard, and a bullet tore its way from the gloomof the trees, crashed through Kirke's stockade, and buried itself in theground.
"Ameh!" shrieked the women, springing to the farthest corners.
The men leapt from their haunches, upon which they were crouching, andjumped over into the circle, glad enough now of the protection affordedthem by Kirke's foresight, and once more willing to accept his gallantleadership.
Whiz!--ping!--went a second shot; followed by a third--a fourth. Kirkecaught up his gun, and blazed back a return fire, aimed in the directionfrom which the assault came. "But," thought he, "this is of littleavail, for we cannot take aim at the wretches, whereas the blaze of ourlamps makes us so many marks to them."
But the firm resistance offered had an effect; the dacoits' shotslessened, then ceased. What did this mean? They must have some newscheme on foot.
The besieged stood in line, facing the jungle, with the women andchildren behind. Suddenly, wild shrieks from them announced danger. Twoof the dacoits had crept around, under cover of the long grass, crawlinglike snakes close to the ground, and were prepared to leap into thefence, dahs in hand.
With one bound, Kirke sprang to that side with clubbed gun, and struckone man down from a swinging blow on
the head. Ralph was at his side inthe same instant, with a native spear in his hand, the first weaponwhich he could catch up. One of the women, who was engaged in cookingthe supper, flung the pot of boiling rice at the intruders in the samemoment of time. It hit another fellow right in his face, and thescalding contents ran down all his naked body, at which he uttered ademoniacal howl of pain.
"Bravo, Miss Pretty!" called out Kirke. "Have at them! There's a pluckygirl."
Were it not for the women, who came gallantly to the aid of the men, thefight would have been a short and hopeless one, for the dacoitsevidently had been reinforced in numbers. They assailed the little campon all sides,--there was no spot from which a terrible face did notgleam and disappear. They tore at the defences with their hands,--theytugged at the stakes with feet and teeth,--they hurled darts, they firedshots,--now from this side, now from that. The villagers fought likewild animals,--both they and the dacoits uttering fierce yells andshrieks; only the two young Englishmen set their teeth, and silentlystruggled, side by side, with their doom. One--two dacoits more felldead, but the rest were fiercer than ever.
The ammunition was exhausted, their strength failing them, it was butdesperation which enabled them to maintain the combat, but they foughton and on.
Daylight broke at last; the short night was over, and the assailantsretreated once more beneath the cover of the jungle. Kirke reckoned uphis men.
Two of them were wounded seriously, one by a cut on the head from a dah,the other by a gun-shot in the chest. One of the girls was thrustthrough the shoulder by a spear, and a child had been killed.
All the powder was gone, but there were spears, dahs, and clubs insufficient quantity,--also food,--and there were a good many musketballs still left.
Moung Shway Poh had found a shelter beneath the thickest part of thestockade, where he was found, squatted on his heels, under the shade ofthe strongest umbrella that had been saved.
"You old coward!" cried Kirke. "I missed you in the night, and wastedcompassion upon you, fearing you were wounded or killed. Have you beenhiding there all this time, while we others have been fighting for you?"
"Don't be rude, Englishman," said the old sinner, with all the dignitywhich he could assume; "what would have become of my people if theirgrandfather were hurt. It was for their sake that I took care of myself;the royal self's lord should think what would become of all without theexperience of my years to guide them."
"Bosh!" cried the irreverent Kirke. But perhaps the ancient Burman didnot understand English vernacular language.
There was one missing whose disappearance caused both the young men muchconcern. Little Miss Sunshine, the pretty little village belle, themerry child of whom both had made such a pet, was nowhere to be found.
They searched up and down, they called, they questioned everyone, butall fruitlessly. No one had seen her since Ralph had helped her toescape from the blazing hut. So imminent had been the peril, so hot thefighting, so much had there been to do in the intervals, so anxious wasKirke about Ralph, that it was not until he put the people into a sortof review, and counted them over, that the little girl was missed.
It was Ralph who thought of her then. "Where is Miss Sunshine?" askedhe.
No one knew, no one had seen her, no one had thought about her. That shehad fallen a victim to the dacoits in their ambush among the jungle wasthe most likely fate to have befallen her. She was gone, and had left nosign.
With heavy hearts Kirke and Ralph set themselves to prepare for theinevitable renewal of the enemy's attack when darkness once more coveredtheir approach.
Kirke sharpened the spears and knives, and Ralph caused the women to tieup musket balls at either end of long pieces of cloth, such as they woregirded around their loins for clothing. These made excellent weapons,and the Burmese quickly mastered the knack of using them.
Rice was prepared, water-pots refilled, fuel brought in, stones piled inheaps,--some of the people slept while others watched. All was put intothe best order possible.
A sorrowful event occurred in the course of the day, which fired theEnglish breasts with indignation.
One of the children in the village owned a pretty cat, which was thebeloved of her heart, and responded to the petting which it receivedwith all the love a cat can feel and show.
The house in which this child lived was one of those destroyed by fire,and, though the inhabitants had escaped the intended massacre, no onehad thought of the household pet. Little Golden-leaf had sobbed herselfto sleep, fretting for its loss the night before; and her motherconsoled her by saying that pussie had gone mousing into the jungle, andwould come home when she had caught enough.
About the middle of the day, a prolonged feline wail was heard, and thelittle one called out, "My puss, my puss, I hear her crying for me!"
In another moment the poor cat was seen limping painfully along, leavinga track of blood along its path. Each of her four paws was cut off, andthe wretched creature was trying to crawl back to its friends upon itsstumps of legs, with the fillet from a dacoit's head tied to its neck,to which a sharp stone was attached. It made its tortured way through atiny gap in the stockade, and tried to rub itself against its littlemistress's legs in the old affectionate manner, in joy at having foundher again.
Little Golden-leaf burst into pitiful grief.
"Your father will put it out of its pain," said her mother.
"No, no, no!" sobbed the child, "he shall not put his soul in danger forme or my puss. The good Englishman will cure my puss, and its littlepaws shall grow again. Won't they?" cried she, turning to Ralph.
"No, my pretty; it would be kinder to kill poor pussie at once," saidhe.
"No, no!" reiterated the tender-hearted little girl,--"No, no! I cannotbear it. Make pussie well, good kind man."
Ralph had not the heart to distress her further. He felt very sick as helooked at the maimed animal, and thought what the message with which ithad been sent might mean.
What had been the fate of pretty Little Miss Sunshine, when the wretchescould have exercised such cruelty upon a helpless dumb animal! He tiedup the mangled legs of the poor cat, and it tried to purr as it lay inits little friend's arms while the operation went on. The child thencarried it to the fire, and sat down to nurse and cuddle it, while Kirkebuilt up a sort of rampart over and around her, to serve as a shelter aswell as possible.
"They meant that as a hint of what they will do to any of us if theycatch us alive," said he to Ralph.
"They _must_ catch none of us alive," replied Denham.
"May God help us all," sighed Kirke.
"In Him do I put my trust," replied Ralph firmly.
"If anything goes wrong with me," resumed Kirke, after a few moments,"you will send word to my father, won't you, Denham? and tell him I wishI had been a better son to him, and a better man, which I would havetried to be had I been spared."
"I will," said Ralph, "if I am spared myself, but there is little chancefor either of us."
"I fear not," said Kirke; and neither of them spoke more for a longtime.