in some lovely glen in the wilds of Scotlandor Wales. That is so long as your glance did not go too high, away upto the hills of everlasting snow. But all about us, except a few yardsof shore, was wood and forest, among the trees being several such as thebeech--just breaking into bud--with which the English eye is familiar.Here, too, were ferns and mosses such as we had seen growing in thewoods and sylvan dells at home.
We had landed, as I have said, in a cove off the bay, and this wasreally the mouth of a little river, very silent here and very deep, buta little more inland hurrying along over its stony bed with a noise likethunder. It was doubtless fed by the melting snows of the Cordilleras.
Jill and I left the men to draw up the boat while we took a littleramble into the interior, promising Ritchie not to go beyond hail. Wewanted to stretch our legs and get fully awakened.
Jill was his old self again, so I was happy accordingly.
"How's all this going to end, Jill?" I said.
"I don't know," replied Jill; "but I suppose we might as well be here asanywhere else."
"Certainly; if those interesting savages do not give us more trouble."
"Oh, bother take them; never mind. We gave them such a dose yesterdaythey'll hardly want another."
"Jill," I said, "look!"
We had come to a bit of clearing on the banks of the river, and close bya huge tree were the remains of a fire. The ground round it, too, waswell beaten down, as if people had lately been round it.
"Strange!" said Jill, "and no one seems about."
I took up two half-burned branches. The ends were covered with ashesand looked cold. I struck them together, _sparks flew out_!
"Jill," I said, "we'll go back now. The Indians are near us now."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
A STATE OF SIEGE.
We hastened back to give Ritchie the news.
If we had expected he would exhibit any surprise we were mistaken.
"It's no more'n I expected," he said quietly.
"Perhaps," I hazarded, "these are friendly Fuegians?"
"I never met 'em," he replied. "Must be some new tribe. All that everI saw could be friendly enough when driving a good bargain, and scrapingthe butter all to their own side of the dish. Their motto is, `Take allwe can get, and take it anyhow.' My dear lad," he continued, "couldanything be handier for these savages than to collar a white man. He isdressed, and has nick-nacks in his pocket; well, they want the dress andthe nick-nacks, for you see they don't have any clothes of their ownworth mentioning; then the body of the white man comes in handy for aside-dish. They think no more of killing a white man than they do ofsending an arrow through the heart of a guanaco. No, never trust aFuegian farther than you can fling him, and that'd be over the cliff ifI had all my will."
Hark! There was a crashing sound among the bushes not far off. I ranto my gun. So did Jill. But Ritchie never moved step nor muscle, atwhich I was at first a little surprised. Not, however, when a guanacoappeared in the clearing not far off, and had a long-necked look at us.
"Don't fire!" he cried. "We're not ready for the niggers yet."
"Didn't you fancy," I asked, "that the savages were on us when you heardthe bushes crackling?"
"That I didn't. They don't come like that. You don't see them, and younever hear them. No, they're all from home. That fire was lit lastnight, and left burning. But they'll come back. So now to get ready.You see, young gentlemen, the gentry very likely look upon the glen andwoods round here as a kind of happy hunting-ground. There is fish inthe river, too, and fish in the bay. So, though it may be days beforethey come, we may as well cook their dinner in time."
"But surely we won't be here for days?"
"Maybe not. But it's just as likely to be days as not. It alldepends."
As he spoke, Ritchie advanced some little distance to the right,beckoning us to follow.
He drew the bushes aside from the foot of the rock, and lo! the entranceto a large cave.
"It's still there, you see," said Ritchie. "Not a bit altered since Iwas here before. No; caves are like keyholes, they never fly away."
He entered, and we followed, the men holding the branches aside to admitthe light. The place was large and roomy, and evidently constantlyinhabited. Here were the remains of a fire, here a heap of bones, andhere again a bed of dry leaves.
The most of the forenoon was spent in preparing our fortifications. Thebushes were cut down from the front, admitting light and air, and abulwark of small tree trunks was built in front, the boat being hauledinside. There was plenty of fallen wood about, so that our work was byno means difficult.
After all had been done that could be done, we had nothing to do butwatch and wait.
Watch and wait for the wind to change and give us a chance, or for thefoe to come.
I do not know anything more irksome than such a position. When there isdanger ahead, it is human nature to wish to face it at once and be donewith it. But in this case we did not know whence the danger would come,nor what would be its precise character when it did come.
All that day--and a dreary one it was--the wind blew steadily from theeast, whitening the waves, and moaning mournfully through the trees inthe forest around us. We kept a good outlook on the Reach for anysteamer or ship that might be passing, but none appeared.
The sun set in a gloomy sky to-night, and the moon failed to show. Thiswas no disadvantage. Our sentry was set, and beside him the two dogskept watch and ward. We lay down armed all in the dark, Jill and I sideby side, on our couches of leaves. I think Ritchie began to tell astory, and I set myself to listen, but exhausted Nature would assertherself, and I was soon hard and fast asleep. Nor did I waken tillbroad daylight was streaming in at the mouth of the cave.
Another day went slowly past, without any alteration in the wind, andwithout our friend the foe appearing.
About sundown Jill bantered Ritchie about the Pacific and Atlanticfighting for mastery, and the frequent changes in the wind; but Ritchietook it very good-naturedly.
"It is evident," Jill said, "the Atlantic has it all its own way thistime, Ritchie."
Night fell again, as dark and wild as ever. About ten o'clock, just aswe were thinking of settling, one of the dogs uttered a low and ominousgrowl, but was at once muzzled by the sentry's hand.
A canoe had suddenly glided into the little creek or river's mouth, butit passed on. Another and another followed, till we had counted sevenin all; but from the constant jabbering they kept up it was evident theyhad not observed us.
"That makes the fleet," whispered Ritchie. "Seven is a magic numberwith many savages."
About an hour after, Ritchie stole quietly out of the little fort. Hesoon returned and asked me to come. I obeyed. Jill wanted to accompanyme, but I forbade him.
We stole quietly up the river, keeping well in under the shade of thetrees, and ere long saw the light of a fire glimmering through the bushahead. We crept on still more silently now, careful not even to snap atwig.
We reached high ground just a little way above the clearing, andgradually drew near the glimmering light. Then Ritchie cautiouslylifted a branch of evergreen.
A more fantastic and horrible sight I never saw. The fire was fiercelyhot, and evidently made of hard dry old wood. Around it, but at agoodly distance, sat, crouched, or lay fully a score of semi-nakedsavages, all men, all armed--at least their weapons lay near them--andall silent. Many had hats and garments of our men on; woollen shirts orlinen ones, some bloodstained. But their legs and arms were all bare.Every eye was turned towards the fire, where, spitted against the treeup which the red flames were now roaring, were huge masses of flesh thata glance told me was human. There was a hideous grotesqueness about thewhole scene that made me draw back and shudder. But some movement onthe part of the cannibals made me look again. The feast was about tobegin.
Ritchie and I drew back and cautiously took our departure.
We never spoke till near the creek s
ide, and then only in whispers.
"Those are the fellows from the _Salamander_," said Ritchie. "The veryflesh they are now gorging on is part of their companions that wereblown in pieces."
The Fuegians evidently set no sentries, so their canoes, which we sooncame upon drawn up in a row, were entirely at our mercy.
Our mercy was excessively meagre in this instance.
These canoes are merely planks of wood fashioned with knives and fire,and lashed together by means of pieces of skin.
It took us no great length of time to dismember them, nor to launch thepieces into the stream afterwards.
"And now," said Ritchie, "the forest itself is our principal danger.These chaps'll be all about us to-morrow morning early, like bluebottlesround a dead